When Way Closes

This past Thursday my mom was awaiting my weekly phone call when i surprised her by ringing the doorbell. "Surprise mom. I'm home". She burst into tears of joy and "Hallelujahs", causing a scene for our surrounding neighbors. After a month of saying difficult good-byes to everyone I love in Kolkata, I was finally embraced by my loved one's in the states.

So why am I home? (you may wonder)

Because I believe "way will open"; this is a Quaker phrase I stumbled upon recently which means the process of discerning one's vocation. This is where I find myself, alongside most other people I know. I believe the last few months of my life I just experienced the flip side of "way will open" when completely out of my control or desire the way I had willed to happen was closing quickly behind me. And clenching my fist around this dream, I fought hard not to let it go, until.... I saw it for what it really was.

Let me be frank; egocentrism. I was in love with an image I desired to maintain- living and serving amongst the poor of Kolkata. Very little of who I am delighted in my daily very undefined work and living there. Many people legitimately are living and serving amongst the poor there, but for me, I was trying to be someone I was not, convinced that was what God required of me. "Surely God could not love a privileged, white, educated, American like myself" my wounded heart tossed and turned. So to earn that "unconditional love" I set out go to the extremes to prove to God and self that I am serious about this Christian thing.



And it took me hitting rock bottom, suffering from anxiety and burnout for me to begin to wonder... "What if this is not about requirements? What if God is genuinely interested in a relationship with me? Not to "use me".... but to just love me.

The moment I decided I wanted to come home was after listening to a speech by Richard Rohr on contemplative prayer. He spoke on how we learn, through meditation and self-awareness, how to recognize and silence our ego as we go before God. The beauty of this is we can only let go of our egocentrism as we grow into the truth of God's love for us. It is the freedom we find in God's unconditional love that naturally transforms us into our better selves. It's not actually something we set out to do, but rather something we grow to receive. It was there I realized my anxiety was because I was trying to will myself into being someone I was not and because I was giving from a place I did not possess.

I recently received a book called "Letting your Life Speak" about vocation which keeps putting words to my experience.

"One sign that I am violating my own nature in the name of nobility is a condition called burnout. Though usually regarded as the result of trying to give too much, burnout in my experience results from trying to give what I do not possess.... it does not result from giving all I have: it merely reveals the nothingness from which I was trying to give in the first place"

This author is teaching me that there is a place in me that does flow with abundance and it is growing into this knowledge of myself from which I will learn my vocation.

So I am home. And as I finally allow the door of India to close behind me, I turn to see a room of many doors before me. It's a bit overwhelming actually. But this time I am not doing this out of my own will. Instead, I am beginning to believe in a love that arms me with new set of questions that will help me along my way. "What brings you joy Melissa? What are you good at? What do you love doing?"

Questions that, for once, allow me to start with the knowledge that I am loved as I am and can trust my inner workings as they were created with love. And use this self-knowing, and the love that invites it to grow, as my guidepost for how I can authentically give out of a place of abundance. And perhaps this one day will lead me back to Kolkata. And perhaps it will not. All I know for certain is for now I am home and this journey continues here.

Learning and Discerning

In my last blog, I shared my struggle with burn-out and anxiety. For the first time since I came to India, these past 2 months I was plagued with deep questioning of whether I want to serve long-term here anymore. As I look back over the past year I see an incredible journey of both pain and growth. I am glad to say, since I last wrote, that I have recovered from burn-out and am now entering a time of discernment with the Servants team. At the beginning of this month, the rest of the team returned from 2 months out of country renewing their visa's. So now I am officially "the Intern" and using this time with them to discern if I want to live and serve in India for the next 3 years on their team.


I know Servant's vision is right where my heart is at; it's all about transformation of poor communities through building relationships with neighbors and utilizing the skill, knowledge, and efforts of local people's to create change. It's about empowering local communities to see the issues and unite over them. It's about daily living out the love of God in their context, by becoming a good neighbor before anything else. It's about solidarity before discovering solutions. It's about respecting the culture and language by taking the time to learn both of them from neighbors, affirming they are the one's with the important knowledge and skills to offer. It's about moving slow together and not fast alone. It's about not overwhelming the community with western skills, knowledge, or money lest they loose sight of their ability to enact the change for themselves. It's about being prayerful and living prophetically in a time consumed with "me". It's about humility and respect. Creativity and celebration. Rest and grace.


All of these things resonate with my heart. It's what I hope for in an organization. But even though our ideals and values match, I don't want to assume that I want to live these out in an Indian context. This past year has allowed me to learn so many things about myself- particularly that I have made many of the choices in my last 5 years subconsciously out of what I think I "should do" so that God will love me. But perhaps the most important thing I am learning in India is that God already does love me. And for the first time in my life I am learning that the question to ask when I enter into a new commitment is not "what should I do? " or "what would a radical follower of Christ do?" but actually "What is Melissa Dorman good at, and enjoy, and find life-giving for her and the world around her?" Because ultimately there is a loving God who created me uniquely to do those things, even if they do not mirror the life of Mother Theresa. Which is fine because I'm also learning that the best person I can aspire to become is actually me.

The Art of Not Doing Anything

For most folks, chillin out all day on the couch, watching a movie, and eating junk food sounds like paradise! But for someone like me, who finds so much of my self-worth in what I check of my "to do" list by the end of the day, it is downright devastating to find out that these are the doctors orders for me.

Right now I am learning the art of "not doing anything". Through all the accumulated stress and transitions in the past 9 months; ie. culture shock of India, Nepal, and Bangladesh, transition in relationships from living with Auntie and Uncle, moving in with Shikha in the a 1 room place in the red-light district, my time ending at Freeset, moving into a new home this month, and beginning my internship with Servants... I have officially been diagnosed with burn-out. Unlike being stressed out where you feel you have too much on your plate to balance, experiencing burn out feels like you don't even have a plate to put things on. Things that use to bring me so much energy and joy- like spending time with my bengali neighbors- now makes me feel really anxious and tired. And with all my down time I have had too much time to think; I am often faced with daunting questions about my purpose here, whether this is really my dream, will I be able to survive for a 3 year commitment with Servants? Questions I can't answer but also can't stop asking myself. It's something I have never experienced before and for a "doer" like me, it's hard to face the facts that right now...I just can't do very much.



(taking a lesson from Homer)

In the states, if I had burn out, I could just take a vacation, change my work hours, spend more time with friends. In a foreign country where my work IS where I live- building relationships amongst the poor.... it's a little more challenging to recover and then set up healthy boundaries in the future.

I have seriously wrestled with returning back to the states for a while, but I think one more transition at this time will likely not ease my stress. So for now, I am here, taking it real easy... or trying to learn how to at least. This month I have suffered a bladder infection and giardia (one of the side-effects of burn-out is lower immunity) so it's forced me to rest a lot. I feel really well supported by my new team members (even though most of them are on Visa leave) and folks from home. They have all offered a listening ear and their love and care through all this. It's ironic that I have waited so long to find and join an org like Servants, and my first month as their intern I am at my worst. Perhaps this is exactly where I need to be to learn I am loved by God and others despite what I can do. So far my new team has encouraged me to take as much time as I need to recover and to give myself lots of grace in all this. I feel very blessed and love by them all.

I feel I am learning lots of lessons about self-care and my limitations and God's love for me. My hope is in joining this team, I will learn to live a more sustainable way of life that not only focuses on bringing life to my neighbors but also bringing life to me and my team. For now, keep me in prayer as to find courage to give my heart once again to a new team of people, as I learn the art of not doing anything, and more importantly finding God loves me just the same.

Discovering my Need to Succeed

My first and... and then second attempt at making Rooti


Arriving back in K-town it felt like home- yellow taxis, streets alive with people, the smells of Indian food and rotting garbage. Hmmm hmmm...Home sweet home. On my mind was the future; doing a masters program, potential research, applying for my new organization, working part-time at Freeset with my 2 best friends. All these ideas of “who I might be in 2011” swimming about in my head. But not for too long…

To my surprise, when I went to discuss my part time role at Freeset with my boss, I was faced with a hard choice; either work full-time at Freeset and move into a middle-class apartment or continue living with Shikha to focus on learning Bengali in which case they could not offer me a part-time role. From his perspective, my living with Shikha was getting in the way of doing my best work and causing problems for others. I was devastated (beyond what I would like to openly admit on my blog)

I was at a cross roads between the community I have grown to love this last year and still wished to partner with and … and the Servants community that I am applying for and I feel called to join…(but cannot officially until training this September)

In the end, I felt I needed to begin my journey with Servants… even if it was un-official. But now what do until September 2011… just live here?

The next day, I accompanied a Servants member still looking for a home in the slums in the north part of the city when we stumbled across a little place perfect for 2. She looked at me…the thought crossed my mind… “I wonder what it would be like to live here?”

Unlike the crowded and polluted alleys of Sonagacchi, this community felt safe, spread out, and restful. I had a sense of peace that this is exactly what God was doing all along. I need a safe place to slow down and grow into my new community as I focus on language and culture. So within 2 weeks, and after lots of hard conversations, I found myself hugging Shikha good-bye and climbing into a taxi (although I will still visit once a week).


Me and my new room mate Meghan as we head off to our new home

This situation was has been an incredibly stressful turn of events... I even considered flying home until September training. But in the midst of all the anxiety, I have been given a glimpse into seeing myself more truthfully and that is a true gift. Probably not a surprise to many of you but this month I was shocked to find out I am actually an over-achiever. (I know, laugh it up). But on a serious note, whether I would like to see it or not, this means my self-worth is dangerously caught up in how others view me and the success of my work. I know you are wondering… how in the world did you manage to discover this about yourself Melissa?

Glad to answer, I have been exploring this part of me using a spiritual tool called the Enneagram. This tool has Christian roots starting as far back as 350AD with a desert monk Evagrius Ponticus but today you can find tests and readings easily online. Basically the Enneagram describes 9 basic personality types and how these interact together and with God. Each type has a basic gift and a basic need. As we attempt to meet our own needs outside of God, we head down a destructive path. But as we grow aware of our needs and how God is the One who fulfills it, then we grow liberated from our own destructive ways and into the gift of who God is making us to be.

Check out the link to learn more: http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/intro.asp

Using this tool does not give us the answers, it actually just helps us ask the right questions. For instance, why did I rush into living with Shikha? Looking back, I think part of me unknowingly really wanted to push myself to gain the respect of my western peers. But that backfired, being the oddball living with a local did not impress them and in fact it may have made some feel guilty for not living this way (shoot!). Plus the stressful home environment exhausted me so that I could barely keep up with 4 hours of work- so no one really benefited. <----Our new bedroom

I like to think of it like this; there is this little Melissa inside of me scheming to get people's attention by doing good stuff, but I never see her false motives until her plans go array and hurt the folks around her. It's connecting this little person inside me with the Love of God she so desires that will liberate her from all this scheming so she is free to just love regardless of being affirmed by others. As I learn this about myself, it’s humbling or rather humiliating… how ever you want to phrase it. And I am discovering there is lots to learn about just "being" with God. Now that I see this, I can begin to explore a love not dependent on what I can or cannot achieve for God. A love that delights in me regardless.


our new kitchen--->

These next few months I will have lots of time on my hands; I hope this experience helps me grow into that unconditional love I so desperately long for and have been looking for in the wrong places. 2011 is not exactly as "productive" as I imagined, but like my train ride here, it's been full of surprises and the unexpected way God always gives me exactly what I need.

Gotta Catch that Train!

I often use this space to update you on my course in life, or even share meaningful moments I have had along the way.... but this time I want to just share an exciting story. So enjoy!

Beep-beep Beep-beep 5:45am my watch rang- it was time to begin our journey to Kolkata. Little did we know, the sound of my alarm also signaled the start of a race- a race to catch our train that had started boarding before we even left our beds. Unfamiliar with how to correctly read boarding times on our international train tickets, we leisurely enjoyed our granola and fruit breakfast, pleasantly surprised on how our taxi was a “minute early” at 6:29am to take us to our 7:15 departure. Tic tic tic. 6:29 we sat at a train station, a place packed with local peoples, cha venders, street children and disabled begging for our change, mosquitoes buzzing about us. The cha vendor assured us we were in the right place. Naively we plopped down in a pool of all our belongings to wait for our train. 7:13- I went to ask the conductor “Which side of the tracks we should wait at?” One look at my ticket, his face told it all- we were not in the right place.


(My friend Pip who we stayed with in Bangladesh while studying Bengali)

Clearing a path in the crowd, he pointed to the train across the way “Dhaka Containment station! Go!” In the chaos of the moment I gathered from his Bengali conversation with the observers that there were actually 2 train stations, international and domestic. A concerned observer stepped forward to lead the way. It was a boy, just crazy enough to believe we might make our train. I started to believe him too. At 7:15 (the time of our departure) we found ourselves running across train tracks with all our belongings to catch the wrong train that was headed towards the right station.


(I got a haircut in Bangladesh)

The train bellowed it’s horn, signaling that it the engine was turning it’s gears just as the girls loaded their gear on the train. Still on the platform, with 30pds on my back and 20 pounds in my hands of luggage, the train started to gain speed. My first attempt to jump aboard failed. I had too much weight to jump 2 feet onto a moving train- go figure. Recalling this scene in a movie I knew what to do next, I tossed my valuables into the carriage and pushed with all my strength to board the train again. Luckily, two men joined my efforts and pulled me and my pack inside to an upright position. Temporarily relieved, I looked at my watch….At 7:20 we were on the wrong train at the wrong time pulling away from the wrong station. We looked at each other. It was written all over our faces; the prospect of catching the only train this week to Kolkata was fading like our mistaken train station was into the distance behind us- faster and faster.


(7 layer tea in the Shrimongal Bangladesh gardens)


I searched our tickets, were no instructions about “what to do when you sit at the domestic station and miss your international train by an hour”. So we sent our silent prayers as we imagined another week in Dhaka. I looked over, the boy had not a worry on his face. Within minutes the train pulled up to a much nicer platform, one that made our last station look so obviously intended for domestic travel. Observers cheered us as we jumped across the 4 foot gap, luggage and all. When I turned around, a man pointed across the tracks at the most beautiful train I have ever seen- a modern steel carriage that contained our only hope of reaching Kolkata this day. “You have 3 minutes, Run!” he said.

So we scrambled off the platform, luggage and all once again, over the tracks and up again onto the platform of the other side. Men pointed the way, the boy ran ahead with our luggage. “No time, no time, run!” the observers cheered us on. Running past security, out of breath, handing our tickets to the customs officer felt like what I imagine it might feel like to cross the finish line of a triathlon. As we caught our breath, our little hero said not a word. He even refused to take any money for his help, but still we insisted. Without him we would be $60 short and another week in Bangladesh. It figures before our adventure in Kolkata even begins we would have an adventure in getting there. I can only hope the next six months have half as much excitement in store and that this is but a foreshadowing of how God will continue to provide for us along our way.



(Kolkata here we come!!!)

A Home, Away from Home, Away from Home

(view from the roof where I stayed in Nepal)

Nepal was just a few hours behind us when we entered a slum community in bangladesh. As we approached the outskirts of the vast community, I noticed we were ironically encircled by modern high-risers, the workplaces and homes of the nations wealthiest people. The slum conveniently located in this position to serve the domestic cleaning and hard-labor jobs of the wealthy. After the work of the day, it was as if the city divided itself into economically bi-polar communities.

From across the river, I saw little tin and scrap wood shacks help up on stilts hovering precariously above the polluted riverbed. My mind was plagued with questions... "Would a muslim slum be as hospitable as the hindu slum I just left? A month without bengali study, will I remember how to talk? Will this be a good experience for my 2 friends on their first night here?"

We descended into the narrow lanes, where the moonlight could no longer guide us. Tin walls lined the path as we stumbled over rocks and debris, side stepping around boiling pots of food or scattered ditches. Each doorway revealed a different story. People chatting on the floor of one, children playing in the next, a tired woman cleaning, a group of men playing cards after a long days work.

Within the first minute, just as I I began to wonder if our presence might not be welcomed, a woman stepped out of a doorway to greet us. Her name was Mukta and before I knew it we were sitting on her bed sipping tea. In homes this small, the bed is not only a place of sleep but fulfills the role of a kitchen table, a living room couch, a desk, and many other uses. She told us about her husbands illness, likely a case of TB, and her 8 year old son whom was mute, from a high fever years ago. All this was over plain conversation as we exchanged the details of our own lives with her. Surprisingly, my Bengali freely flowed out as if just yesterday I was in Sonagacchi. And somehow this tin shack felt a tinge like my India home. The walls and people were new, but the warm hospitality was exactly as I had remembered. The time passed easily, along with the tea. As conversation wound up we thanked Mukta and took our leave.

As we trailed out of the slum, to my surprise, a woman grabbed my arm and pulled me into her home. Startled and confused, we both burst into laughter. She quickly offered that I stay for dinner. Clearly subdued by her offer and or perhaps the hilarity of the situation, I pleaded that she go invite my friends to join us, whom were still walking ahead unaware of this pleasant kidnapping. Soon the five of us sat on the bed as the rest of the room filled with spectators. We spent the hour receiving bengali make-overs, eating rice and vegetables, and giggling at the spectacle we created. I left that night once again blessed by the generosity and kindness of the poor.

For the next month I am studying bengali 5 hours a day, an intensive effort to gain some much needed grammar and literacy before returning to my home in India. The school I am attending is called HEED (Health, Educated, and Environment Development) and does amazing work throughout Bangladesh. Check out the short video below to see a bit of HEED's work and how our daily lives in the west can help prevent natural disasters and love our neighbors better overseas.

Trekking the Himalayas

Often it is on the mountaintop that we see clearly the valleys below- both behind and onward.

This is certainly the case for me as I just got back from an 8 day trek through the Himalayas to pray and relfect. I set out alone, but by the second day I realized that was an unwise choice, one that others have lost their life from. Luckily, minutes after this realization and a humble prayer, God provided a wonderful man named Isreal to lead me the remaining 6 days.


Some highlights; eating wild-berries in lush meadows, walking over wooden bridges suspended over blue wild rivers below, through cloudy pine tree forests, passing Buddhist temples and indigenous villages, standing at the highest peak of my trek as the sunset on my right and a clear view of Mt. Everest on my left, making superglue out of acorn sap to fix Isreal's shoes, hiding in the mountains from 3 angry oxen, late night conversations about world politics, God, and empowerment around lodge fires with trekkers from all over the world, and about 30 hours of praying and thinking along the way.

I feel this time allowed God to do many things in my heart. I was able to interpret the value of my time at Freeset as well as what God is calling me to next in my journey. Unfortunately I am learning the lifestyle of simplicity (living at the economic level of the people we come to serve) the model I learned in my Global studies courses at Azusa Pacific is quite rare among western Christians abroad, even among the wonderful Christians I met at Freeset whom I really care for. This is not a judgement statement on anyone's character or a comparison to my own self-righteousness, this is my observation on how all of us rich Christians fall short of the style of service Christ modeled for us among the poor. Even in my limited experience in Uganda and Kolkata, I see how affluence creates unnecessary barriers for building authentic friendships and empowering local people to take initiative for the betterment of their own communities. I feel this quote very much summarizes my purpose in Kolkata. I am not here to save the world but to be liberated alongside others....

"If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, let us work together." Lila Watson (Aboriginal educator and activist in Australia)

It is amidst the little bit of suffering that I have experienced in living alongside the poor (mostly induced by my own inaccurate standards of "success") I have begun to see myself more honestly as a selfish human being desperately in need of God's grace. Christ came to be with the poor and I am learning to meet Christ in my own poverty. It is wonderful!
<----(Pic of Sumita who is my language teacher who has begun to pray to Christ during our friendship)

My greatest suffering is becoming the source of my greatest joy- something I feel we easily miss out on in our quest for "effectiveness" by western standards of achievement. It is living with Shikha and Papya that God has brought me the most healing and joy because it is here I must choose to die to my desire for wealth, comfort, success, fame, productivity, pride, and convenience. It is here I am liberated from those things. And it is also here that I see God resurrecting the most love and change in the lives around me. When we loose our lives we find it. And it's true, I have never been a more joyful and alive human being, and this is only the beginning!

I was delighted a few months ago to find a community of other westerners that are also striving to live simply and empower in this way. I know it is dangerous to spend too much time with like-minded folks, as it easily taints the selfless nature of love when I begin to "love" what I see of myself in other people. However, even with this temptation, I am seriously considering applying for their organization, which would mean a 3 year commitment to journey together. Feel free to peruse their website and send me your thoughts on all this http://www.servantsasia.org/



It just seems fitting to do life in community with people of similar journeys, much like trekking the Himalayas. ha

Below is my favorite sermon because illuminates the up-side down model of Christ that so many of us miss in our quest for doing "good to the poor". We must realize Christ did not come to do good to the poor... he came to join them and then consoles us by saying "follow me". I believe this is where the western evangelical church has misunderstood the model of Christ (as I so often do). By western standards, Christ model was not powerful, effective, or convenient by any means and that is precisely why it prevails! Love has the freedom to die for the life of the world because it believes in power of God over one's own efficiency, power, wealth, or fame! Enjoy and be challenged. Peace.

Money and Power: Oscar Muriu from Urbana 09 on Vimeo.

Being a Little Foolish

Lately God has been wooing me into greater trust. Last weekend the Spirit gently pointed out that my love of money is a hinderance to both trusting God as my Provider and furthermore loving my neighbor as much as I so love myself. I was challenged to let go of more of my wealth.

At first I was afraid of parting with my money (really afraid!) but as the week passed by I have realizing the burden of my affluence while living alongside the poor. It creates a big gap in building friendships here (real friendships) and silences my ability to talk without hypocrisy about my faith in Christ among the poor - Christ being the One who left the richess and power of heaven to speak the Good News to the poor that the Kingdom belongs to them and even died for it, while I love money too much to leave it for the sake of the Kingdom to take root among my neighbors whom are the poor.

2 days ago, I was visiting Auntie and Uncle's on the Indian holiday which celebrates the goddess of wealth called "Laxmi Puja". That morning I felt inspired to write down a dream- an idea to sell more of my possessions and put those resources to work for my neighbor's well-being. It's so true; where my wealth is my heart will follow. Currently my heart is very much for myself. As I put the pen to paper to write out this dream, I started pondering the Providence of God- fear crept in again..."what might happen if I trust God more for my needs by living a life more reliant on the good will of others?"

Just then, a package arrived at the door. I was surprised when Auntie said it was for me... strange that the one day I visit a packages arrives for me. So I opened the rather large box to find 30 or more snacks alongside some basic toiletries- most of which were aligned with my mental list of "things I wish I had here". It was like someone read my mind? I searched to box to find a letter, "who could have sent this? surely it's from a close friend or family member"

To my delight the letter was from Queen- a neighbor in Pasadena! This beloved women whom I have spent so little time with sent me a huge package filled with things she had somehow knew I wanted. Jehovah Jireh! God provides through the love of neighbors and this neighbor's love for me inspired me to love my neighbors! But how?

Question: Why does boy bring girl flowers? it seems such a waste that a boy finds the most beautiful thing in nature only to kill it and bring it to his lover for a few days of enjoyment. And yet as a girl I know full and well that it is the foolishness in this act that qualifies the love. So in response to God's gift to me, through Queen, I desired to be a little foolish for Christ- not sacrificial by any means as I kept plenty of the gift for myself but just a baby step in the direction of gratitude.

Freely I was given the gift and so I felt inspired to freely give. I separated the cookies into one bag to "give away" and the other "to keep". I wrote Queen a letter telling her how I was going to share her gift with those who could never afford oreo's or teddy grahams here. Pleased with my plans I sat down, as if the deed was done, to read a book for a while. Over the course of a few hours my mind started to grow attached to the yummy cookies- so quickly material possessions begin to steal my heart again-I am finding selfishness creeps it's ugly head into the plans of love not yet put into action.

Upon this realization I grabbed the bag and knew exactly who to see. There are 8 little street kids and 2 mothers that for 3 months I daily passed and often avoided by "passing on the other side of the road" as not to be confronted with the conviction that I have far too much while others suffer so greatly- note: I am learning that my tendency is to avoid the conviction of the Holy Spirit is so that I will not compromise the "good life" I have in mind for myself for the plan's of God. Perhaps avoiding situations that cause guilt is key to living selfishly.

As I walked down the street I was nervous, praying that this gift would not harm my neighbors dignity and that I might see Christ in each of their faces. As I reached the group of street kids I called one over and they all came running. I explained that a friend had given me a great gift today but it is too much for just me. I asked if they would like to share the gift with me- confused they looked at each other and grinned. This was a yes. At first I said "one each", but I could not hold back- If this is Jesus then I wanted to give all I had in the moment.

2 Indian men watched the event unfold, a little confused, but then touched that I would share my wealthy snacks with the lowest people's in their society. I know it was charity and charity by and large does nothing to liberate people from their circumstances or challenge the systems that put them there. However this was not an attempt at justice, but only acting a little foolish for Christ- and my neighbors on the street were loving it! Perhaps somehow this was pleasing to God, perhaps not, but for me it was a baby step in learning to let go of more of what I want.

I am finding the more I let go of this world, (which has not been much yet) in terms of money, wealth, comfort, prestige and power, to join those who are excluded from such things, the more the world looks like a more generous, beautiful, and loving place to be. It can only get better from here.

Please keep me in your prayers as this week I leave for Nepal to renew my Visa. I will have 3 weeks alone to pray and reflect on the last 6 months while I am equipped for what is next. I hope God might use this time to liberate me from my love of money for something much greater.

"There are two kinds of Christianity: success- Christianity and failure-Christianity. Jesus said, "Unless I fail, my work will be useless"- Kagawa (the late Japanese social reformer and evangelist in slums)

The Desert

Yesterday I read and reflected on the verse below. Here is the excerpt from my journal. I feel it summarizes much of "where I have been" and my hope of "where God is taking me". May it bring you life.




Matthew 4:1
Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil.

Immediately after baptism, the event where God declares love for Christ- note this is before he does any preaching, teaching, healing or dying which means this love does not require a response but offers itself freely without condition, the Spirit of this type of love leads Christ out into the desert.

In the desert there is an absence of food,
absence of shelter,
absence of comfort,
there are no other people
it is the absence of life.

I have almost never been very far from food, shelter, comfort, or other people.

Surrounded by death is where the Spirit of love leads us to be tempted, alone. So you and I, individually are tested by the Tempter- the one who comes to kill, steal, and destroy-

The Tempter is all about death.

The Spirit of love leads us to the place of death, alone, to be tested. It is here our hearts are bared naked to reveal a faith or doubt in God

who is life,

truth,

love,

freedom,

compassion.

Here temptation is not something to flee from, it is something we are led into by Love.

It qualifies our faith, purifies the soul, reveals the substance of our heart and draws us into alone-ness before God. It is the place we either realize our need for God or the place we try to play god. It is the place we either believe in love or the place we choose to hate. It is the place we are liberated to the will of Abba or become more captive to the powers of death. The desert is the beginning or not the beginning of following God.

To go searching for a desert is the beginning of the end of following God.

One cannot find a desert. As if selflessness is discovered by one's self. One can only seek the places that one might easily pass through unscathed, a place of moderate climate at best.

No, to reach a desert, one will need to be led by the Spirit of Love, lest one step into the territory of death without life accompanying. To do so would be arrogant, believing the same as the Evil One that he did not need God.

However, humility stops to listen for the gentle whisper of the Spirit of Love, a whisper that does not force itself on anyone, does not interrupt other conversations to be heard. A whisper so soft that it requires an ear trained in the art of listening to hear it, especially amidst a world that is like a room crowded with many people trying to talk over each other.

And if heard this Spirit of Love leads us away from comfort, safety, abundant supply of food, material possessions, other people we love or whatever else we think we "need". The Spirit leads us away from all that so we might encounter the One who meets all needs.

So we might encounter love.

It is in the testing of faith that one's faith becomes qualified. An untested faith is a weak faith, it knows not death and therefore knows not life.

The Evil One does not need to intrude on one's comfortable place as the Evil One knows that in this comfortable place there is no faith worth tempting. No instead the Evil One can use the one with little faith, can control them as one controls a machine, with the intimate knowledge of what makes it tic (the fear of death), to manufacture more death in the world.

The one with little faith is unfamiliar with death, has never seen a desert, and so happily produces death, even calling it "life", for the one with little faith knows very little of what death looks like. So unfamiliar with death though, the one who lacks faith also sadly, the greatest type of sadness beyond even what we feel for the dead, for this one has never known life. For the one who has never known life is the one who has never lived, so it seems only fitting that the one with little faith is cold, as a corpse is often cold and something to be very sad over.

This one feels not,

hears not,

sees not the world around it,

It is too afraid of death to ever become alive. And so remains dead.

But the one who fears not death, and has heard of the love of the Living God, can humbly stop whatever that one is doing to listen. This one trusts that Love always has good in store. This one is liberated to listen. This one can stop and listen because this one knows that doing things, even things deemed by oneself to be for God, will never take precedence over listening to the One who is God.

For even doing things one deems for God can come out of a fear of death. As if unfamiliar with the story of God, this one is trying hard to stop death because this one does not believe God is capable of overcoming death, so it is the duty, according to this one who lacks faith, to keep doing, and has little to no time for stopping and listening to God.

Oh how this one lacks faith, often clinging to those also doing so much that collectively they might never find time to stop doing things for God long enough to listen to God, for that gentle whisper of the Spirit calling them out, alone, into the desert to qualify their faith in God- perhaps the way a college qualifies individuals for a career. Anyone having exited college can say that college is but the beginning of the process of qualification. So also the Spirit of Love beckons us to come out alone into the place of death to qualify one's faith in God, that this one might stop fearing death and live liberated. So liberated that one day one might willingly even die, as Christ did, so that God could raise up more new life. Here death is not feared, it is hoped for.

No instead this one with little faith is assured of their work and has no room to doubt self, after all no one else seems to- a dangerous place to be indeed. So it only "makes sense" to keep working for God, and yet can anyone ever do work for God who is too afraid of death to stop one's work and hear God? And perhaps in hearing God, this one might find out that God does not fear death and therefore does a very different work then the one who fears death. In other words, perhaps the one who fears death has never worked for God. For the requirement to work for God is to believe in a love so good one might walk into death willingly for the good of love.

In so far as one believed in God's love, one might humbly stop

and listen,

and be led out alone

in to the territory of death,

where all but one need is not met, and where this one need is met, this one meets the Supplier Of All Needs. And in the place where death is abundant, this one might become alive by knowing the One who is Living.

It is in the testing of faith that one's faith becomes qualified. An untested faith is a weak faith. It knows not death and therefore knows not life.

"We are poor listeners because we are afraid that there is something other than love in God"- Compassion by Henry Nouwen, Donald McNeill, and Douglas A Morrison.

A Prayer of Hope

Here is prayer God worked into my being last month that I want to share. It has helped me to give up some of my lust for power, control, and selfishness. I hope it brings others life as well.


Oh Lord my Helper. Your ways are a mystery to us.

If it is our caring for the earth that the Creator is made known, then help us to care.
If it is our generosity that Your Abundance is made known, help us to give generously.

If it is in our being still that we can better see what your doing, then help us to be still.
If it is in our doing that we share wisdom, then help us to do wisely.

If it is in our love for the stranger that we learn love, then help us love those strange to us.
If it is in our love for enemy that we befriend you, then help us to love our enemies.

If is it in our weakness You are made strong, then help us to be weak.
If it is in our poverty you give us true riches, then help us to be poor.

If it is in our unseen work that You are more visible, then help us to work un-noticed.
If it is in our humble suffering that you are glorified, then help us to suffer humbly.

If it is in our dying that you resurrect life, then help us to practice dying.

Amen


Below is a video that brought me much comfort, joy, and courage in a time that I have been quite uncomfortable, despairing and fearful. My it also bring you life.

Mumford and Sons - Awake My Soul from Thomas Henley on Vimeo.

Identity Crisis and Idol Worship

This last month has been the hardest. G*d has begun to show me the truth of my fears and faith. Moving into a different culture, has challenged my own. Before I assumed so much of my culture was "just normal". Here I have to wrestle with my cultures underlying collective beliefs.

For example in India there are numerous holidays throughout the year where the Hindu people spend large amounts of time, money, and creative energy constructing beautifully painted idols. They parade these through town only to dump them into the Ganges River as a sacrifice to the gods. Through the centuries of idol worship, this now polluted river causes all sorts of illness, disease, and death for my community who rely on this dirty water for daily life. And yet these human-made objects are worshipped because the Hindu people believe the deities will reciprocate their devotion providing happiness, fulfillment, prosperity, belonging, among other things. It is the Hindu faith and fear of these gods that lead them to worship. At first sight, coming from my western culture, these idols seem absurd, until my eyes were opened to my own cultures idolatry. If we worship who we fear, then perhaps the question is, "who or rather what do I fear?"



When I first moved to Kolkata, my new community did not know who I was, which was in contrast to the community I had just left who thought quite highly of me (at least I think they did). My reputation, good and bad, did not follow me to India. And because other people did not know who I was, I forgot who I was as well. I had an identity crisis my first few months as I realized much of “who I am” was wrapped up in the lie that I am as good as people think I am. Much like any other idol, a reputation is something human made. It is what we create together as we watch, judge, and remember each other’s actions. This human-constructed idol of reputation is the fear that unless I get everyone, including myself, to believe I am good than I am not really “enough”. The Idol of Reputation promises the false-hope of attaining the fulfillment, happiness, and belonging that I have always wanted.

Looking back, and still now, I give so much time, energy, and critical thinking into winning the praise of others, and thus I worship of the idol of reputation. The problem is this idol creates an "in group" based on the exclusion of others. The idol of reputation excludes those who do not have a good reputation, like perhaps prisoners, prostitutes, drug addicts or other marginalized groups of people in society that are deemed “bad” because of things they have done. Like every idol, it only brings death and destruction in a community as it breed’s comparison, mistrust, and division. Prisoners on death row stand in witness to the death the idol of reputation produces.

But this idol crumbles as we remember our Sav!or died as a convict. His reputation nailed Him to a cross. Chr!st is the only one without sin. Where the Idol of Reputation says there is something to be achieved, G*d’s mercy stands in starch contrast and proclaims, “G*d’s love is for all and it cannot be earned”.

Hindu god of prosperity Lakshmi-->

Another identity crisis took place as G*d revealed my own love for money. In my fast-paced capitalist American culture, I have believed in the lie that “I am as good as my salary. I am as good as the profit I produce for a company. I am as good as the material things accumulate for myself”. Like all idols, money is something we humans create and attribute value to. Money promises to bring happiness, success, security, and prosperity. These promises are rooted in the fear that we might not “have enough.”



So often I have worshipped the idol of money. Whenever I chose my work based on a pay rate rather than the good it did for others, I bowed to the money. Even my understanding of time was sacrificed to money so every second was a quantifiable dollar amount that is best not wasted on things like slowing down, patience, prayer, and living in the present with others.

Much like the idols in my Kolkata neighborhood, the money is another false-hope that steals life and produces death. I see now that this idol in my culture transforms middle class families into a place where mom and dad are absent because they feel they must maintain a livelihood that required 60+ hour work-weeks. This fear brings death to families all over the world as it has created a culture of accumulation in the west where the richest 10% of adults have 85% of the world total wealth (2000). Over 1.2 billion people survive on $1.25 (USD) a day. The fear that drives materialism in my culture is starving the majority of the world. Inside North America, undocumented workers, the unemployed, the mentally or physically disabled, and the homeless are seen as sub-human when we find belonging by what we own or can produce.



But this idol crumbles as we remember we follow a homeless Savi0r. When a rich man wanted to follow, Chr!st told him to sell his possessions and give the money to the poor. The Me$$iah that explained we can love G*d or we can love money, we will hate one and love the other. We must choose to follow the man who proclaimed, “Blessed are the poor” which stands in starch contrast to a world who fears the fate of the poor. On the Contrary, the life and teachings of our homeless Sav!or’s proclaim, “This love is for all. You cannot earn it and you cannot buy it.”

Hindu people make their idols of visible material like wood and stone. Perhaps it is the invisibility of my own idols which is most dangerous. It is in a Hindu culture I find myself entangled in a worship of wealth and fame. As long as my identity is tied to idols, I will never fear the G*d who Chr!st followed to the poor, the excluded, the marginalized, and the forsaken. Perhaps this is why it is in the loosing of our lives that we gain it. I guess my hope is G*d might woo this rich young woman into loosing herself.

Entering Community with the Poor

My new neighborhood is a place where most people avoid even walking past lest someone find out they were in this part of town. This is because I share this section of the city with over 10,000 women "standing in line" who are entangled in the sex-trade. Most of which are self-less mothers who would rather sell their bodies than watch their children go hungry or uneducated.

My new home is a 15"x8" too-short-to-stand-up-in room and consists mainly of a bed, a kerosene stove, a fan, a TV, and a drain where we do our bathing, cooking, dish-washing, and (occasionally when it is urgent or too late to leave our room) it is for our peeing as well. I have found myself living life alongside the most incredible, warm-hearted woman named Shikha and her far-too-beautiful-to-be-living-in-a-red-light-district 11 year old daughter named Papya. I am happy to say these are my new room mates.

I am discovering there are many beautiful treasures in relationship with the poor.

For instance, as I packed my stuff for the big move, consolidated "my-life" into a back pack, I was required to think critically about my wants verses my needs. Suddenly as I looked over my heaps of belongings scattered on the floor there was a shift in thought. The things that had once brought me feelings of security or self-worth, suddenly seemed quite unnecessary and even shameful as I realized these things were not only excessive, they were too expensive and and large to fit into my new home.

It was at this moment I realized how much of my identity has belonged to those things on the floor called "my belongings" and somehow at one time I had been so convinced I needed. But why?

My new neighbors had lived their whole lives without such things. I looked down at my designer clothes that had once given me so much confidence in America, realizing now they would be hurtful to my neighbors self-worth, as they could never afford such things. I counted my 15 sets of clothes that had once given me a sense of security in their numbers, only now the more I counted the more it seemed like a waste knowing the cost of just one those pants could pay our rent for the next 2 months. And all my gadgets for "well-traveling" now seemed like roadblocks for well-living.

It was in that moment I found I had been owned by the things I owned; possessed by my own possessions.

And for the first time, my rock solid "ideal of simplicity" was shattered. Now I see simplicity is so much more than a principle, it is actually the natural overflow of love when our neighbors are those who are poor. I'm believing more each day that the inequality of wealth in the world is not because the rich do not care about the poor, but we simple do not know them. It has been in relationship with the poor that I'm discovering my own poverty; greed, materialism, and hoarding to name a few.

It brings to mind "Blessed are the poor for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven".


Friends and neighbors enjoying Shikha force-feed me yet another dessert

A Lesson on Language

A few days back, I was sitting with the ladies at work, practicing my Bengali; something I try to do as often as I feel adventurous enough to leave my text books for the real thing. Although, this time was different. Many of the women seemed too busy to help and I started to feel like a burden. About ready to retreat to my books, one lady sensed my discouragement and began to patiently teach me the names of body parts. Pointing to her nose or her ear, she would say the word in Bengali and I would repeat and hope to retain it, but often inverting syllables and beckoning the laughter of the ladies around us. Yet I was astounded at how quickly I was learning!

Fifteen body parts and an hour later, I realized who this patient woman was; she was one of the twenty original ladies that began with our business 10 years ago. She is a beautiful old woman, the type of beauty where you can tell she has always been beautiful. And she was elegant, even in her second-hand sari sitting on the floor of our workroom teaching me Bengali, she was clothed in dignity. Then I remembered, this is the lady who goes out into our community and finds women who have the courage to leave the trade and work with us. A real freedom fighter! Suddenly, I felt honored that she had given me so much attention.

After an hour of patient teaching, we left to find some water. Passing by Kerry, she said (in Bengali) "We are going out to the red-light district". I was surprised by the arrangement, but I quickly agreed, as I gulped down the rest of my water.

With my limited Bengali, and the growing trust I had for my newfound teacher, we ventured out. I felt so vulnerable, realizing this was just my second time walking the red-light district and my first time relying on a person to lead me who did not speak my language. But a rush of peace replaced my fear, as she took hold of my hand, leading me through narrow lanes and busy streets with the tenderness of a mother's love. I felt the warmth of her heart in the warmth of my hand.

We walked past the hundreds of women standing "in line" and stopped to talk with only a few. From what I could understand, she would tell them about our work being a place to work with dignity and more importantly freedom from "the line". I would answer questions about myself, as each curiously asked about me. Each time, the women were delighted when I answered back in their own language, feeble as it was.

The last woman we visited invited us into her room and bought us chai and cookies.

Sitting on her bed, drinking the chai, I couldn't help but imagine what had took place there, right where I sat. What had she endured? What was the cost of my little cup of tea? And how gracious was her hospitality? My heart ached, but I smiled and sipped, not wanting to waste a drop of the costly tea she had given of herself to buy.



The woman listened as we shared about our work I thought for a long time, carefully forming my words, "Apni amrader shonge kaj korte cai" (I want you to work with us). She smiled, but with a tinge of despair. I wish I could understand and say so much more. I wanted to listen to that despair, to reach beyond my elementary vocabulary and limited understanding of the conversation. It was there that language learning took on a whole new level of importance.

In the midst of my seemingly endless struggle to grasp this new language, it's days like this where learning vocab and grammar take on new meaning and new hope. Teachers like this are rarely found in a classroom. And these lessons on language cannot be found in a book.

A Revealization

So I have been wrestling with a question; “Do I love Chr!st’s mission more than I love Chr!st?”, a question that unsettles me in a place I have not wanted to confront.

To be honest, prayer has been an afterthought since I arrived in Kolkata. I have been caught up in the excitement of a new life, as I see G*d move in and through this community. Which is beautiful. But could I say my eyes are on Chr!st? Sadly, no.

Yesterday, I listened to a recording of my first sermon on “obedience vs. effectiveness”. Not something I do often, obviously, as it was a prophetic verbal-slap in the face, waking me up to reality (which is funny since it’s my voice doing the sanctifying assault). I think I had started to believe in being effective again. I have noticed that effectiveness is an easy struggle at my work, being a business for freedom (a good cause)…making it easy to believe in effectiveness over simple obedience regardless of result. It’s easy to get sucked into a vortex of working long hours for the pressing temporal needs that surround us and loose sight of the eternal. Nonetheless, I know better, that it is not WHAT we can do, but WHO we do it for that matters (And the HOW-action flowing out of that alone).

Today it occurred to me, the verse, “For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me” (Matt 26) is not only a radical statement about the how being a follower necessitates our communion with the marginalized, but it also means that what Mary did (washing Je$u$’s feet with costly perfume) is an act that challenges disciples, then and now, to keep our eyes on Chr!st before we look to see Chr!st in the poor. (This might seem obvious, but I am relearning it). How can I expect to serve Chr!st in the distressing disguise of the poor if I bypass prayer with Him out of urgency to meet the “pressing” needs around me? I justify exchanging my time to focus on Je$u$ each day for more time with the poor (or for myself), and yet it is Je$u$ I wish to see IN the poor. Plainly stated, how can I recognize Chr!st in the poor if I don't spend time with Him?



Mary modeled this; She was “a sinner” (which takes on new meaning now that I work in the red-light district), whom Chr!st had loved and accepted. And she lavished her love on Chr!st, not sparing a dime.

During our life, this is our only opportunity to give- as the Manifest Body (since the Eternal Kingdom will have no needs to tend to). This not only means that we should take advantage of our opportunities to give now, but it also means if we are not intimate with the One we give to, we miss out on the Eternal by never having made time for God during the temporal. My heart ached as I imagined walking past Chr!st my whole life to go "serve" the poor, only to die and realize I had not developed any real love for Chr!st, but only for the poor, (or my romanticized version of them). And I saw an image of myself, upon death, realizing I had only served myself in being married to a mission that was exciting and gave me self-worth, but was distant to the Master who gave me the mission, and had left myself very foreign to a love for G*d; that is to love at all. And then it struck me, this is idolatry. All things can be made idols, even the the Sacred Kingdom. And I seem to have fallen more in love with the Kingdom of God then I have with the King.

All this leads me to this; as I transition into the red-light neighborhood, with a fresh start, I believe I need to re-cultivate a life of prayer and mental simplicity, especially at the onset of each day, so that I might not miss out on loving Chr!st in my efforts to love the poor. And then maybe, out of the overflow of my love for Chr!st, I might also learn to love my neighbor, which include the poor.

Moving into the Neighborhood

One of the greatest treasures I have found in Kolkata is my host family. I live with an elderly couple, whom I fondly call "Auntie" and "Uncle", and my host brother, Sudip, who is a local pastor. I have quickly felt at home here as Indian hospitality has a way of doing that.

A common sign in Chr!st!an homes in India

One problem: I have an hour commute to and from work each day for my part time job, which has limited my ability to spend time with the community I work in. So a few weeks ago, I began to pray for a family in Sonagacchi (the red-light district) to live with and the phrase "with a widow and an orphan" kept coming to mind.

Later that week, I told my boss (Kerry) that I was looking to move into the neighborhood. At this point, you may wonder, "Why are you moving into a red-light district?" Good question.

My Global Studies professors have taught me the importance of living amongst the people I seek to serve. This is based on Chr!st's example, who took on the form of human, that is He became one of us to show us love. And following Chr!st, I want to live like the people I seek to love.



Annie and Kerry- founders of where I work--->

When I told Kerry this, he immediately said, "I have someone I want you to meet." So we walked down the street to meet Shikha, a 26 year old widow who is a single mother of 11 year old Papiya whose father died last year of liver failure. She showed us the 10'x7' (too short to stand up in ) room she recently moved into. Upon meeting her, I immediately felt that Shikha was a joyful and warm hearted woman. She served us chai and (with my permission, as I was feeling particularly bold) Kerry told her about how I was living an hour away and looking to move into the neighborhood. Before he could say another word, she asked him, "Would she live with me?!"

She answered the question before we could ask!

Of course, I said, "Yes!" Immediately she started praising G*d and calling me her new sister. A beautiful answer to both of our prayers.

A street in Sonagacchi

Now, I will take the next month to prepare for the big transition, mainly working on my ability to speak the language. Shikha doesn't speak English, and Papya needs to learn English to stay in school (and out of the sex-trade). In that way, it will be a beautiful exchange of language learning for us all. Of course, it will come with many changes, and probably challenges, but I believe many blessings as well. Perhaps I will learn more about this right -side-up Kingdom of God that says it is actually the poor that are blessed.

Remembering that Work is Love and Love takes Work

The work I have joined here is beautiful beyond what I had imagined. Even more remarkable is my ability to easily loose sight of the bigger picture and focus on myself. It is in my nature to quickly wish for what I no longer have; whether it be good weather, familiar friends, the ability to speak the language of most people I know, or eat foods that don't send me running to the bathroom. Some people label it homesickness; I prefer the term ungratefulness.

However, this week my eyes were opened a little to the "good and perfect gifts" G*d has showered before me;
I have the challenge and excitement of learning a new language...
a bengali family to learn hospitality from each day as they call me "daughter" and treat me as one too...
the simplicity of life in the slums and late night pillow talk with Auntie (my bed-mate)...
the adventure and growing pride in mastering 5 new forms of public transportation
the business skills I have been taught in the past month for my new job...
eating on average 3 mangoes a day, chai 4x a day, and discovering the best naan ever...
having over 150 women to love and learn love from each day.
(to name a few)

I recall the night of my going away party, a good friend of mine gave me an archaic looking poetry book. Not being the "poetry reading type," I let it collect dust for a few weeks before parting it's pages and discovered the beautiful truth between them.This book is called The Prophet, written by Kahlil Gibran.

It is also remarkable how fitting the passages of this little poetry book intertwine with my life, as I am learning let go of so much that I held dear while I simultaneously growing to embrace all things new here. G*d is patiently and gently teaching me to find myself anew in a place where no one knows me, guiding me to remember that "loosing your life to gain it" really means "loosing my life", and a life of discipleship requires a bit of discipline.

I hope this builds courage in you as much as it has me.

An excerpt from The Prophet concerning work

And I say that life is indeed darkness

save when there is urge,

And all urge is blind

save when there is knowledge

And all knowledge is vain

save when there is work

And all work is empty

save when there is love;

And when you work with love

you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another,

and to G*d.

And what is it to work with love?

It is to weave the cloth of threads drawn from your heart,

even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.

It is to build a house with affection,

even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.

It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy,

even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit....

Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste,
you should leave your work
and sit at the gate of the temple
and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference,
you bake a biter bread that feeds
but half a man's hunger.

To work, this is my prayer, that I am slowly learning to embody.