Renew

I’ve taken in information for way too long, and it’s time for some creativity.

Something in the making.

A drawing, a story, a dance that I (and the world) have yet to know.

This is what happens when I neglect journaling space for a good semester (if not year).  I lose not only the space, but my head and heart loses their route for expression.  Thus, all my energies get bottled in, suppressed, distracted from potential pursuits and purposes.

Admittedly, I had some of this space at the very end of school this past year, but it was mostly a realization that I had done too much on my own.  Not by myself, but on my own initiative and power.  Taking too much on in my hunger to “do more.”  Not “too much to handle,” but too much to live healthily.  Living with caffeine and without sacred space – both my own fault.  Furthermore, I was taking this on in my own strength, rather than praising God throughout the season and relying on His joy as my strength.  Even amid the downpour, however, I was grateful to hear whispers of His love, a simple “I am with you” late into the night.

Now, as an alumnus, I look toward another four years ahead in a new city as I prepare to become a physician.  If med school is all it’s said to be, how on earth do I preserve this space?  There needs to be a shift in my paradigm.

I need not do everything for its own sake (or my own sake).

Nor should I.

I need to learn to live out my time constructively, such that I actually have time to breathe – and be – in God’s presence.

Restructuring my time alone for more “down time,” however, is not the only thing that needs changed.  Not only “doing less,” but a recognition of what’s best.  What’s empowering.  Transformative in the best way possible.

That’s what God’s all about.  Even if in this past year I appeared to do a ton of things “for God,” my connection with the Vine was shallow at best.

My zeal for the lost, for the downcast, for justice, righteousness, and peace was meager at best.

I wasn’t even operating on principle, so much as the idea of keeping my head above water.

And that is NOT what I have known of my Savior.

I have tasted and seen that my Lord is good.  He is the greatest good anyone could ever know or experience.  And it is His heart that I desire to recapture this new season.

I desire to abide in His covenant, worshiping and knowing Him as good in times of calm and times of utter insanity.  Never ceasing in my love for Him, never letting it grow cold or harsh or somehow “rough” by the weight of this world.  Simply hoping, simply trusting, simply abiding in His faithfulness to His children, and learning to walk in Him.

Knowing this journey through His eyes.

Prayers that in this time of calm, I would be able to relearn these sacred pathways, and remember, by His Spirit’s assurance and His Word’s instruction, how to abide in Him.

God be with you.

In Christ,

MJW

It's a rap!

“It’s a rap. It’s a rap. It’s a rap, rap, rap, rap, RAP!” ~ Tony Mitton

That’s what the 6th graders did for the end of school. Epic sauce. And now I want to try to reach a level of rappage equal to if not exceeding theirs here... yo... yo... yo, yo...

But actually, I want to give a wrap-up to my Bangladesh experience relatively near the experience (that, and I don't want to put you through the pain of me attempting rap). I’m beginning to write this up while I’m still in Bangladesh, but I am finishing it at home, so that way I can reflect more about differences between here and there. At least, that’s the goal. Knowing my schedule, I’ll probably only have time to glance at this once before I actually post it [reality: I only added the first part and some links... and cut out this: And now, late-night viewers, we close tonight’s program with a lovely concerto piece by none other than Mr. Floyd Q. Harrington-Schultz: “Henrietta’s Happy, Hellenistic Hungarian Hippo.”]. Thus, it won’t be a Germany, which got finished a week or so before I left for Bangladesh.

Speaking of Germany, God is awesome: remember Herrnhut? The site of nearly 100 years of non-stop prayer I visited? They had a particular type of star that they made, which reminds me of the Unitas Fratrum. While I did not take a picture of this, inside LAMB’s church, in the middle of the ceiling… there was a Herrnhuter Sterne. God unites us across the world.

On this trip to Bangladesh, God has taught me three key things about myself and my relation to others, all of which relate to my pride. I might seem like a kind, sensitive soul to most, but inwardly, I grapple with my sense of control, so part of me is not surprised that He revealed to me such missteps. At the same time, with each realization, I discovered a core truth about living for God and what that means in this world, whether I am serving Him abroad or domestically. Therefore, I pray that these boastings in my weakness would only bring understanding of and glory to the Living One:

1. I realized my pride in/attachment to the academy. I wrote about this earlier, but I came to understand how much I had made education a sort of idol. Some people worry about missing the food of home, the comfort of family, the financial security of a non-missional life. Do such things cross my mind? Now and again. But what crossed my mind more, especially at the beginning of my time here, was how I would miss the university research environment if God called me to a remote area of the world. The thing is, I was wrong on two counts: (1) people serving God in foreign lands can and do pursue further study (two people I met at LAMB were currently pursuing master’s degrees, and a third was working on her PhD), and (2) intellectual discourse and study should lead to action in missions, no matter your context, and should not remain sheltered in the university environment (it is a means, not simply an end). Pursuing advanced degrees does have a purpose, but I pray God would show me further how I can use them for His purposes, rather than my own. True wisdom from above is pure, not polluted by an air of intellectual superiority. So God, let me serve You in a way which would use whatever knowledge I attain for Your Kingdom’s purposes, and show me when to say “no” to a study opportunity for the sake of the gospel (side note: I’m not saying, “Quit doing homework and get on your knees!” But what I am saying is that I do not need a BA, MA, MPH, MD, and PhD to live a life worthy of God’s calling).

2. I realized my pride in thinking that it always must be me, a foreigner, who serves/does the work. Don’t get me wrong, I love international missions work, and I pray God would use me in this capacity in the future in whatever form He chooses, whether for a month or so each year or for a more extended period of time. However, this service does NOT mean that I take over all tasks from the community into which I enter. Missions is so much more than going to another place and doing service. Missions is living, breathing, walking in Christ wherever you are. This spirit should be fostered in the local community, and if any group were to come and serve this part of the body, then we should encourage them in their own work, rather than try to run the show. I’d welcome help from other university students in serving my own college's community, sharing with them the needs of our people, and then letting them discuss the needs they see. Admittedly, outsiders can give insights into things wrong with a system. At the same time, once these issues are revealed, who should be in control of solving them? It’s like a doctor and a patient together discovering a diagnosis. Whether the symptom report came from physician or patient, the value of patient autonomy should dictate how the patient proceeds with treatment. In this, the patient has the most control over what happens to them, and can allow the doctor to make decisions if desired. Similarly, in international missions, we should labor where we are requested to serve, supporting the work that the native people decide to establish, and not overstepping our bounds. Thus, we together bring service and praise to God in the context, wherever it might be, as the body united across place and culture. On earth as it is in heaven (Revelation 7:9-10)

3. I realized my pride in seeking the position of an exalted servant in this world, whether a doctor, teacher, or what have you, when instead I must humble myself before God to find true servanthood: I must follow Christ. Subconsciously, I believe I thought that I must inherently serve in a classical “servant” profession to serve God. But that does not mean that I have a servant’s heart. I could serve God better on a factory floor with a humbled heart than if I was “caring” for patients simply for my own pleasure or to assure use of “my” abilities. The nature of a true servant requires this submission to God, so no matter what I am doing, whether appearing philanthropic in the sight of the world or not, I take the talents given to me and multiply them as God allows. In this, I pray I would be like Christ, as Paul writes about in Philippians 2:5-8 “Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” In this way, I can reflect Christ as Deas Vail, whose name means “humble servant of God,” sings, “I’m only a seed in Your hands / I’ll never be big enough / But the smallest of parts in Your plans / Is bigger than anything I know.” It’s not about how I serve as much as Whom I serve.

What does the future look like for me? God only knows the specifics. Part of me intends on working overseas again, as I found this trip way too short. I want to learn a language and engage with people more deeply relationally. At the same time, I don’t want to limit this goal to contexts abroad. I am approaching my final year of university studies, and I want to be ready to serve Him through operating in the language, culture, and activities of my peers. I want to be salt and light to them, and I pray I would not be so overcome by schoolwork and medical school interviews to avoid these relationships.

My heart for rural communities began to develop on an ASB trip last semester, seeing how underserved they were in the U.S., and I believe that has simply continued in my work at LAMB. Having limited resources educationally and medically requires ingenuity to use effectively. I would hope to take these on as challenges, whether through National Health Service Corps, Teach for America, or both, enthralling my intellect in the process. However, I pray I do not leave them as simply mental exercises. Christ died for urban communities, for suburbia, and for what some affectionately call “the sticks.” I believe He has a heart for all these peoples, and I do not want to limit my ministry to a particular group. I do pray that I would continue to serve in rural communities, though I pray more that God would reveal to me the needs around me, and that I would operate as His servant, no matter the context. I am not living simply for tomorrow. He has me where He wants me today. And I pray I would live in that moment, pouring out all I am for His Name, until my breath gives way, and His breath pilots my ship to shore.

Until then, I will sojourn. Peace to you all until next journey!

In Christ,
MJW

Between

Yo kiddos,

Why the random influx of blogs, you ask? Well, when you have time to reflect on your trip for three days, and then have no internet access, things happen. Thus, unless I wanted to watch a Hindi game show involving shoots and ladders, I wrote up blogs.

Here, I’m going to write briefly about the experience of the population known as “Third Culture Kids,” i.e., those children raised by parents from one culture, and live in a different culture. Basically, every missionary child, though not limited to these. For example, if a businesswoman from the U.S. and her husband were forced to move oversea, say to Egypt, their children would be Third Culture Kids. Why third, when there’s only two? Because they seem to occupy a place unto themselves, a middle space between the two which somehow becomes a third culture unto themselves, such that they don’t completely fit in either their parents’ homeland or the environment in which their family resides.

As personalities vary, children can have different perceptions of the experience. It is awkward for anyone, but it is not necessarily negative. The experience of children born into missional contexts, for example, often go into missions themselves, whether in the environment they were raised or another entirely, as was the case of the grown children of an older couple at LAMB.

Others, however, do take it hard. One time during PE (what a glorious subject!), one of the expat children faced a misunderstanding with his Bangladeshi peers, and sat off to the sidelines, moping. I walked up to him, thinking he was angry about the game, only to hear him voice his concern about how he never felt at home any place. In Bangladesh, he was always the “bideshi,” the foreigner, the outsider, but in the nation his parents were from, he was seen as a Bengali, one of the people of Bangladesh. I counseled him as much as I could, asked him to seek his identity in God, and then returned to supervising dodgeball… where another expat child was having a great deal of fun.

The incident caused me to reflect a good deal about what I would have for my own children in missions. I pray I would be more than willing to get up, stick a nail in my sinful flesh, and go to the ends of the earth to follow God. I would hope the same for my future wife. But for my children, who have no choice in the matter, how should I counsel them? How should I point them toward Christ, as I had not been raised with such torn allegiances culturally? I do not take this as a reason to avoid the mission field. However, my kneecaps should wear down a bit more for them as they discover within themselves a third culture.

In a sense, I suppose we as Christians all are in this state: Kingdom children far from our native land of heaven, somehow occupying this foreign land called earth. Of course, we do not adopt the ways of this world, but we are still confused as to how we act in the world without becoming of the world. The tension is awkward, but we know the One who shapes our identities out in spite of it. He is the One who draw us into this strange dance between two worlds until we are at last home.

Peace in Christ [yet sehnsucht until then],
MJW

Culturally Awkward Penguin

‘Sup fresh it’s our turn baby [cue The Devil Wears Prada’s version of “Still Fly”],

And you thought I was awkward in the States! Ha! You don’t even KNOW!

Here I thought I’d share with you some of these happenings from my experience at LAMB.

- Out of habit, I often put my writing utensil behind my ear. Easy enough to keep in place. Even better when my hair is long enough to conceal it in the curls, though I did not have those because of the heat. But it seems every single Bangladeshi teacher commented on the practice and thought it strange, laughing at the practice at times. Whatevs ;)

- I grew more and more confused on proper greetings with people. I knew I couldn’t hug the women I was around, though I could sometimes shake teachers’ hands. However, when I tried on the field at a maternal clinic, they said it was culturally inappropriate, but that they’d let it slide. I think I’m just gonna go for a general acknowledgement/head nod in the future :P

- One day, there was a man that kept trying to offer me some sort of purple fruits. As I left the gates of the compound, he offered them to me, and I put my hand up and said, “no thank you.” He then proceeded to follow beside me walking for five minutes speaking in Bangla, and I told him once more, no thank you, and then looked straight ahead at the road. He began laughing and shouting, “excuse me” and “hellooooo” in English until we reached the railroad tracks. To say the least, I felt uncomfortable, but I’m glad nothing came of it.

- So there’s a community of men in Bangladesh that cross dress, wearing saris like the women do here. One of these men was scaring some of the children near where I was staying, cursing in Bangla and in English, so I decided to be with them for a time. He walked up to me, winked, and threw me a kiss. I scowled and prayed that God would release him. I know these men need the love of Christ, and part of me wishes I had shown it further to this man, but at the same time, I wanted to demonstrate to the children that they did not need to fear him.

- And perhaps the top most awkward for me: on the teachers’ last official day of school, two Bangladeshi teachers at the school asked me to follow them to the gate of the compound. I thought, “Why not? More time to spend with them before I leave, and then I can say goodbye.” But then they told me that I should follow them out of the gate, “to help them buy something.” I had thought to myself that I would not give any money out like this at the school, though I did want to accompany them long enough to say goodbye. Turns out what they meant was that they were trying to buy a gift for me at random shops. To me, this crossed a different line, the line of appropriate interaction with these teachers (both of whom were female). Yet I could not persuade them otherwise, as they viewed it as a gift for leaving, not knowing when they would see me again. I walked off with a mug and various other wares in my hands, dropped them off at school, and then headed straight to my preceptor’s office to talk about the incident. As both of them were older than me, he explained that they viewed me as a younger brother as opposed to a romantic interest (in Bangladesh, a woman cannot be in a relationship with a man if he is younger than her). I wanted to make sure this was okay culturally and ethically, and though part of me still feels awkward about the situation, I did grow to better understand male-female relationships in the nation. And if that’s what my cultural awkwardness leads to, I think I’m okay with that.

Peace to you all in Christ,
MJW

Schoolwork

Now class, I need you to quiet down for a moment. I need a word with you…

How in the WORLD can I describe all that I do at LAMB school? It’s so diverse, so beautiful, so engaging…

I like teaching. A lot.

In fact, I want to teach and be a medical doctor.

Part of me wants to at the same time, but we’ll see.

Why do I love teaching? Maybe I can share with you a few reasons why from my experience at LAMB…

- Teaching Bible class to third graders and Bible stories at school assemblies. I love engaging them as I tell the stories. 6 semesters of musicals and 8 summers of Child Evangelism Fellowship tend to help build my story telling/dramatic abilities, it seems. I love coming right up to the children and asking questions that the characters would ask in the story, e.g., King Xerxes complaining to his servants about Queen Vashti not coming to his dinner – What should I do?! And then fun review games like Zonk (pull points out of a bag as many times as you’d like, but be careful, because you might get a Zonk and lose ALL the points!). Plus, in all this, I love the fact that I’m teaching God’s Word to students who may never hear it outside of LAMB, as a good portion of LAMB’s students are Muslim. No, we don’t force the gospel onto them. No, we don’t have TURN OR BURN invitations at the end of each lesson. We tell the story, and if any children have questions, we are open to telling them. But we do not force. Part of me wants to give an invitation, but I know why I should not: (1) it’s a school setting and (2) would the children really say no to something that their teacher tells them about doing, i.e., would it be their decision? Regardless, I praise God because His Word does not return void.

- Teaching social science to grade five. Basically, I got handed 4 days and was told, “Do whatever you want.” Alrighty then! In considering and preparing different lessons, I came to realize I truly do love learning about most everything. As cliché as it sounds, my mother did *twitch* instill in me *twitch* a “life-long love of learning” (aaaaaaaaaargh!). But seriously! I was reading all about China and Switzerland and Russia as potential topics to teach them on! I only ended up doing Russia and Switzerland due to time constraints, but it was awesome teaching them about everything from their meal times to their histories to Communism. Even before these 4 days when the teacher was still at LAMB (she went on home assignment partway through my stay), I loved learning about how technology had influenced everything from health care to transportation in Bangladesh! The world is a fascinating place, and I loved sharing that with all the fifth graders… and seeing their own curiosity lead them to new questions to ask and further discoveries!

- Science lab. Oh boy! Getting to find fun microbes under microscopes is quite fun, especially when things move! But really, I love building up a spirit of inquiry in the children’s minds. Some catch on quicker than others, but regardless, I find it great that I can both teach them about different materials and living things, and also about experimental set-up.

- Teaching bioethics to the ninth grade. Though it was only for one day, I found I loved challenging their minds. As I mentioned earlier, I introduced them to principlism, a way of evaluating challenging ethical situations. I laid before them the question of embryonic stem cell research, asked them their thoughts… and whatever side they were on, I made sure to turn their thoughts on their heads with my questions. The ability to consider and reconsider needs to be a skill that all need to develop, not because we should not be sure of anything, but because we should be thorough in our evaluative process in understanding what is right or wrong, whether in medicine or other disciplines.

- Finally, to wrap up the year, we put on an end-of-year assembly. The school was divided so Preschool through Grade 4 put on one program, and Grade 5 through Grade 10 put on another (only goes through Grade 10, as that is when the students take O level examinations according to the British system). I got to work with grades 3 and 5 in their demonstrations for their parents. Grade 3 put on Daniel in the Lions’ Den, and I worked with a teacher to write a script up and put it in Bangla. It was great to see the children get into the skit (especially the lions ;) ), but also to instruct them about stage presence (facing toward the audience, speaking deliberately, slowly, etc.). Grade 5 put on a skit of their own making about a school fight, where a bully and his mean brother are confronted by their teacher. The fifth graders really came together to work on the skit, and everyone’s personality shone brightly in both the preparation and the final product (I could see some natural leaders in the group, and I loved how one of the student played the headmaster of LAMB’s school in the skit). To work with them in structuring it appropriately, and then let them take on initiative to make it even better… this is what education should do. Instruct to a point, and then boost students into their own development, guiding them as necessary. Which is why I need to be very careful about what I do and say in teaching, so I do not misguide any.

However God would have me teach in the future, I look forward to it. No matter what it is, I pray I wouldn’t step out in my own power, but in reliance on Christ, for I am not simply serving students with my life. I would hope instead that I would be a servant of the Lord, who would teach and instruct for His purposes, regardless of any sense of satisfaction I attain from the activity.

Use me as You will, O Lord, and ready me with each step.

In Christ,
MJW

Honorably Wounded

So you say I’m better off here, as dry as the shoreline in an ocean of fear,

Points to anyone who knows the song to which I refer.  Here I discuss the spirit of “honorable woundedness,” not in the sense of military woundedness in physical battle, but in spiritual war.  And what missionaries can become over enough time.

Helping can hurt in more ways than one when serving the poor.  As I’ve talked with staff here and heard their stories concerning what they have witnessed in different missional contexts, it’s enough to take a toll on anyone.  The cycle of burnout stems from there being perpetual need, and in this perpetual need, a perpetual realization that you cannot do it all.

For example (and I’m making this one up theoretically, though I have heard events similar in result happening), who would not feel discouraged if the star of your midwifery program on a Native American reservation overdosed on some medication and left herself permanently brain-damaged… all because of her husband’s abusive power.  Now let’s also say that you had developed a close relationship with this woman, having served beside her, laughed with her, and shared parts of the gospel with her.  And that similar situations happen consistently on this reservation, sometimes leading to the death of the woman.  Would you risk entering another relationship again?  Would you risk being wounded from drawing close to another person to minister to them, or would you shield yourself, and keep all your relationships surface?

Such are the risks missionaries take.  If they keep going at this pace, without anyone to counsel them, they may end up in emotional shambles or numb.  At the same time, if they leave to receive a break from the tragedy, guilt overwhelms them, a sense of failure from not enduring through the pain.  If these people do not receive a break from the insanity of their context, why should you?

In the midst of this, we know that God is able to restore us and help us endure, and He does call us out into times of rest and rejuvenation in Himself to do His work.  This is incredibly key to the work of missions, for one cannot step into this field with a spirit of self-reliance.  One must remain totally dependent on the work and supply of God, for He is the One who sustains us and heals us.  He is the One who binds up our wounds.

As a missionary from Romania told me during my time in Dhaka, “It’s very hard work, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

I end with one of my favorite songs by Kari Jobe, and I pray that no matter how difficult it is to minister (wherever you are, for spreading the gospel is met with opposition, no matter the setting), you would know God’s peace and strength:

Wish it could be easy,

Why is life so messy,

Why is pain a part of us?

There are days I feel like,

Nothing ever goes right,

Sometimes it just hurts so much.

But You’re here,

You’re real,

I know I can trust You.

Even when it hurts,

Even when it’s hard,

Even when it all just falls apart,

I will run to You,

Because I know that You are,

Lover of my soul, Healer of my scars,

You steady my heart,

You steady my heart.

I’m not gonna worry,

I know that You’ve got me,

Right inside the palm of Your hand.

Peace in Christ,

MJW

Medicine (Part 2)

When we last left our heroes...

Okay, now for what I had waited to write about: the rural clinic. This one’s probably more spiritual in tint/reflection, and I praise God for the experience. Also note that while I'm posting these blogs after my time in Bangladesh, they were written in Bangladesh during a period of time when I had no internet access.

I still cannot for the life of me pronounce the name of the clinic, but what I know is that it was 20 km from LAMB, and I clung for dear life to the back of the hospital chaplain whose motorcycle escorted us past all form of oncoming vangari (think a bicycle and a cart had a baby), car, and dump trucks, which would take up 90% of the road. When we got there, I met with the health workers, and we chatted a bit.

Side note that requires a line break: Bangladeshis will ask you a series of questions when they meet you. No matter where you are. I got asked some of these as I was riding on the back of a vangari by a motorcyclist. These are the five most common in my experience (all are asked in one sitting):

1. What is your name? (easy enough)

2. Where are you from? (also easy)

3. What do you do? (difficult in my context, as I am a university student, and I want to practice medicine someday… but to them, that means I’m a medical student)

4. Do you have any brothers or sisters? (fairly easy, get to talk about my two siblings some)

And finally, 5. Are you married? (slightly awkward, but fairly easy [no, I'm not]… unless they know you have a girlfriend, in which case it’s “when are you getting married?”)

Anyways, back to the clinic. I took a tour of the facilities and observed how their system worked. The place was mainly used by pregnant mothers, and care was given before and after birth by the staff. Education was also supplied concerning nutrition for the babies to assure their health. What was beautiful about the time was that I was able to pray with some of the staff for a Muslim woman in the next room giving birth both spiritually and physically. Tracts hung in the doorway, though patients are not forced to receive them. They are cared for, no matter their status economically or spiritually.

As a Christian, I am learning that Christ calls us toward a ministry of reconciliation of all things to Himself. So what does that look like? Spiritually is undoubtedly most important, resurrection of the heart, and assurance of eternity. However, God also calls us to minister to the physical, the economic, the environmental needs of our world… beyond the self, to communities and nations. Acting as catalysts for Kingdom-minded thinking in all that we do, how we treat each other and operate as people. The church should demonstrate this day by day within its walls. But outside those walls, we must demonstrate our identity in how we care for all things. Thus, even though this woman has yet to know the salvation of Christ, Jesus is still being demonstrated to her through the care she is given at the clinic. Further, a short distance from the clinic I met with women who were a part of a savings and deposit plan which they ran themselves, a community fund which people paid into and could take out loans as necessary, e.g., when natural disaster strike, when school fees need paid, when the working family member gets injured. I was incredibly excited to see this community initiative and organization, as such had been suggested in When Helping Hurts. Again, these women were all Muslim, but the chaplain I was with told me how the body of Christ was supporting such initiative in these communities, and he hopes to share the gospel with them in the near future.

To me, this is Christ: Savior of the world. In all its dimensions. We know we cannot completely fulfill this task until His return. But we will labor with all the strength we have to be His Kingdom people where, and so point all to the Light of His Countenance.

Peace to you all in Christ,
MJW