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.