Seasons

It is winter time here in Botswana. It took me a little while to get used to having winter during the months that are summertime in America and vice versa. In my mind, June and July were supposed to be hot months, but the temperatures at night get pretty chilly here this time of year. It was a nice change to get to wear jackets and long sleeve shirts after many months of burning heat and dripping sweat. I like winter time here. It isn't frigid but it does get nippy. After a few months of the cold, though, I start to miss summer. God was so creative when he made different seasons for us to enjoy. I appreciate the changing seasons so much. 

Another type of season that we get to experience is the changing seasons of our life as time ticks by day after day. There are the seasons of childhood, of growing up, of adulthood, perhaps of being parents and then grandparents. There are the seasons of having this job or that job, of living in this place or that place, of going through this struggle or that struggle. Every one of us has different seasons that we go through on this journey called life. Some seasons we love and wish they would go on forever, but other ones we hate and pray for them to end as soon as possible. Every season has at least two similarities, and they are that no matter what sort of season it is there are lessons to be learned and that a season by its very definition is only temporary. 

Living in Botswana has been my most recent season of life, at least in the broad sense of the word. But very shortly the times will be changing and I will be moving forward to a new season. Only one month remains of my time in Botswana before I depart to move back across the ocean to America. It will be a new season with new and exciting changes, and I am looking forward to all that it will bring. 

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

Proud to be a what?

Here is a joke for you. 

What do you call someone who speaks 3 languages? 

Trilingual. 

What do you call someone who speaks 2 languages? 

Bilingual. 

What do you call someone who speaks 1 language?

American. 

I'm an American, so I can tell that joke. While it is meant to simply be funny, there is a bit of truth to it. The vast majority of people I have met in the various countries I have visited thus far, with the exception of Americans, speak at least two languages. I personally still only speak English despite taking two years of Spanish in school and spending two years living in a foreign country, so I am definitely guilty as charged. I travel the world and expect other people to understand my English no matter where I am. That seems a bit stuck up and proud when you stop and think about it. Oh but that's right, I am proud to be an American, so it's all good.

The Internet (or at least my Facebook newsfeed) has recently been exploding with news and opinions and arguments over Confederate flags, racism, gay marriage, the Supreme Court, and other such topics. There are as many opinions floating around out there as there are people engaged in the discussion, and that's a lot. My opinion of it all? Well my opinion actually doesn't matter. But I will tell you my thoughts if you're really that interested. 

I've read several "I am no longer proud to be an American" type statements since the Supreme Court ruling on gay marriage, and I have to wonder, was it ever a good idea to be proud to be an American? There are supposedly some good kinds of pride, like taking pride in your work or being proud of your heritage, but isn't the correct attitude for even those things actually gratitude? You could take pride in the work of your hands if you actually had anything to do with the fact that you have hands at all or that those hands have certain talents or abilities. But hands are a gift. Talent is a gift. So are heritage and family and background. Instead of being proud of our nationality, let's be grateful for the many blessings and freedoms we have as Americans. The United States is very blessed in everything from natural resources to freedom of speech, but that has led us to a sense of entitlement that considers having a smartphone and getting purified water when you turn on the tap to be rights instead of blessings. So, I am not proud to be an American. But I definitely am grateful to have been born in a country where I don't have to worry about my family being kidnapped by terrorists or drug lords at any moment, where I can connect with friends on social media because the government hasn't blocked it and only allowed us access to their own propaganda material, and where I can dial three buttons on my phone to get almost instant high quality medical care or police help in an emergency. I want to humbly thank God for blessings like that instead of proudly expecting them. 

Anyone who is surprised by the direction our country is going must not have associated it yet with what the Bible says about pride. I'm pretty sure that pride leads to destruction, not an increase in greatness or morality. 

Humility is the opposite of pride, but grace is what I consider to be the key here. An accurate grasp of the grace of God helps me with my own personal struggle with pride. It opens my eyes to how little control we as humans actually have over things, which in turn reminds me to be thankful for the good things that I have but absolutely do not deserve. Death is what I deserve, not freedom. By God's grace I instead have life and true freedom. Am I proud of that? Nope. But I am extremely grateful. 

So when we mourn over the moral decline of our country, let's remember that it is only a country. What I pray God helps me truly mourn over is the individual lives that are being lost because they did not know Jesus. Instead of being proud of my Christianity, I want to be grateful for His grace that is sufficient for me and for every other person in the world. Instead of being disgusted by my country of birth, I want to be busy recruiting for His country of everlasting life. Instead of being angry at the courts or the government, I want to be angry at my sins and my failures. 

And those are my thoughts. 

---

"Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." -Proverbs 16:18

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Cultures

Have you ever read the little blurb on yogurt containers about the "live and active cultures" inside? It's a little creepy to think that your spoonful of yogurt is alive. But the comforting part is that it doesn't act alive until you have consumed it, so you don't have to watch it dancing around and being all active in your spoon. I would go cross eyed with each bite. 

When I refer to a culture, it isn't typically the dancing yogurt ones that I mean. Biology aside, the anthropological use of culture refers to the "complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society." And that is straight from WikiPedia, so don't just take my word for it. We all live in certain cultures and subcultures based on our geographical location, the family we are part of, the line of work we pursue, et cetera, et cetera. Culture shock and new cultural experiences are part of the territory when we venture outside of our little culture bubbles and pop right through the soapy wall of a new bubble floating in the sea of humanity. Some of us are adventurous bubble hoppers who love the new experiences and the knowledge that come from spending time in new cultures and wonder just how different the next one will be? Some of us never leave the cozy comfort of our own bubbles and are completely happy that way. But either way, each bubble contains the life and activity that are unique to that specific culture. Like yogurt, the cultures are all live and active.

Yesterday, I was able to experience a part of the culture here in Botswana that was new to me. A friend of mine from church had two of his cousins pass away last week, and they have a tradition here that is somewhat of a memorial service to honor the deceased and to support the grieving family. Each evening between the person's death and his or her burial, friends and family members come to the house of the family and meet for a time of prayer and hymn singing. When my two church friends and I arrived, we were given the last three plastic chairs on the front row of the men's side. The women all sat on the ground to our right, and each one wore a head covering of some sort while the men all remained bare-headed. The male family members (father, brothers, uncles) sat in a row of chairs facing the gathering, and soon after our arrival the first song started. In between songs, the men at the front would stand up and speak or pray, and one man, who appeared to be a preacher rather than a family member, spoke from the Bible for a few minutes. All of the proceedings were in the Setswana language, so as the only white person present I simply hummed along with the songs and guessed at the gist of the words being spoken. After 20 or 30 minutes, the service ended and it appeared that a meal was going to be served, but we left before that happened and after shaking many hands on the way out. 

The entire tradition is one that fosters unity in the midst of grief and offers loving support to the deprived family. There were even tents pitched in the yard for those who had traveled a long distance to pay their respects. Clearly it was important for anyone close to the family to attend. And it was repeated every night for several days until the actual burial. 

The best thing about seeing and experiencing varying cultures is the chance to learn. Picking up on good traditions or habits from many different cultures can make you a better rounded person and can even change your perspective on life in some aspects. This Botswana funeral tradition emphasizes the importance of continual support and encouragement for those who have lost a loved one. We have our own ways of doing this in America, such as providing meals and buying flowers, but to see this method of coming together repetively put a new twist on it. And it is twists like that which keep our different cultures all alive and active. 

There and Back Again

With the release of the third and final Hobbit movie last month I thought the title to this post was rather fitting. Bilbo Baggins may have gone to perilous places filled with near-death experiences and then returned to the comfort and safety of the Shire, but for me it was rather the opposite. I left the dangers (mostly perceived dangers stereotypically associated with Africa) of my abode in Botswana and trekked off to the comfort and relative safety of my motherland for a few weeks of holiday vacation. So I have indeed been there and back again.

To quickly sum up my time back home for any interested readers I will give the highlights of my four weeks in America. The first two weeks were spent in Texas, and the days flew by as I relished the reunion with my family after one year and three months of living overseas. I was able to visit my grandmother in the hospital, meet my newest baby cousin, sing lots of Christmas carols, play games with friends and family, shop at Walmart, devour way more Christmas goodies than I should have, visit my brothers new townhouse, drive on the right side of the road, go on a flight with my dad, eat at Chic-Fil-A, watch the Hobbit movie, shoot guns, celebrate the birth of our Savior, and simply spend quality time with my parents and siblings. It was a wonderful and relaxing time that I am very grateful to have had. 

The next two weeks were spent in New Jersey with my girlfriend's family, and even the coldness of the weather didn't seem to slow down the spinning wheels of time. While there I was able to watch snow falling, celebrate New Years, go hunting for deer and turkey, attend an American church, meet new people, watch movies in front of a crackling fire, get one year older, eat lots of delicious food, go on dates with the woman I love, visit New York City, go bowling, have game nights, watch football (not soccer), and absolutely enjoy time spent with my girlfriend and her family. It all seemed to flash by and end before I knew what happened, but I thank God for the ability to make the trip back to the U.S. and have such a wonderful time.

During my 16 months here in Botswana I have grown accustomed to the way of life and the little idiosyncrasies of this part of the world compared to home, so I was expecting a bit of reverse culture shock when I returned to the states. There was an initial moment of shock when I first walked back inside a Walmart Supercenter and saw carts stacked to overflowing with stuff that nobody really needed, and realizations of the excess and waste of American culture did flit through my mind from time to time. However, I felt at home in most ways almost instantly and could have easily settled back into the way of life there once again. 

But should I? 

Should any of us get too comfortable with the earthly lifestyle that we live in no matter what country we may call home? For me, getting comfortable usually leads to lethargy or even apathy. I start to lose motivation when I am satisfied with the way things are. Contentment is a good quality to have when it comes to things like earthly possessions (that don't matter) and our calling in life (that we can't change), but I never want to be content with my relationship with Christ or with the way I am living my life. Those can always be made better, at least I believe they can.

Here's an example. I am comfortable with the people I know here in Maun. I know some from work, a few from church, a handful from conducting business around town, and that is enough for me. As a result, I rarely take the time to get to know new people at work, at church, or around the village. I have my circle of acquaintances and friends already, so why step out of my comfort zone and reach out to make new friends? That's not how a quiet guy like me operates. Yet with an attitude like that I am purposefully restricting my own sphere of influence and minimizing my ability to have an impact where it really matters - in people's lives. 

My comfort zone is killing me. I was originally excited to move here, start a new job, and meet new people because it would take me outside my comfort zone. But comfort zones are obviously mobile because mine followed me to Botswana and eventually caught up with me. 

So, largely due to my time in the U.S.A., I am being challenged again to stop being lazy, I mean comfortable, and to get up, reach out, and pursue people, God, and the things in this brief life that really matter. It's easy to say but proving harder to do, as with most resolutions, but with the Lord on my side I can succeed! 

Here are a few pictures from my trip:

The Siblings

Playing Around

Visiting Granny

New Year's Eve

Central Park, NYC

Going Hunting