Ant Struggling

I’m currently waging a war against a tribe of ants who have decided to invade my home. All it took was one dropped piece of candy on my balcony that I forgot to retrieve. When I went back out the next day, the ant army had taken over. I removed the piece of candy and killed the lot of the invaders. The next morning, to my dismay, I saw that the little pests had taken over my kitchen too. Like an idiot and I had left out a bag of M&Ms on the counter. I’ve been fighting against the little pests for 4 days now. I’ve managed to decrease their numbers but still they come.

As I was meticulously cleaning my kitchen yet again, I realized that the ants have a parallel in my spiritual life. Recently I entertained a temptation. I didn’t act on it but I did think about what it would be like to act on it. Entertaining the thought was all it took and I’ve been battling to get it out of my head ever since. It’s like that one piece of candy, a chink in my armor. 

In addition to the temptation, the guilty lies began to come. You’re not strong enough. Look at the mess you almost got yourself into. You’re too weak. 

The Spirit brought a song to my mind:

When I fear my faith will fail, Christ will hold me fast;

When the tempter would prevail, He will hold me fast.

I could never keep my hold through life’s fearful path;

For my love is often cold; He must hold me fast.

He will hold me fast, He will hold me fast;

For my Savior loves me so, He will hold me fast.

Those He saves are His delight, Christ will hold me fast;

Precious in his holy sight, He will hold me fast.

He’ll not let my soul be lost; His promises shall last;

Bought by Him at such a cost, He will hold me fast. 

For my life He bled and died, Christ will hold me fast;

Justice has been satisfied; He will hold me fast.

Raised with Him to endless life, He will hold me fast

‘Till our faith is turned to sight, When He comes at last!

Suddenly I realized that the enemy was right. I am weak. This is true. But HE IS STRONG. And HE’S holding me fast. He is warning me. I have His Spirit inside of me holding me in my faith. If He was willing to bleed and die for me, it means that He intends to hold me or keep me in Him. What a freeing thought. What a way to conquer sin. On my own I am too weak but I’m not on my own!

I still struggle with temptations. I still struggle with grief of my friends’ departure. I still struggle with loneliness. But I am struggling. Struggling is a good thing. It means I’m fighting. If I weren’t struggling it would mean I have given over to the temptation. 

I was reminded of something Tim Keller said, “God will only give you what you would have asked for if you knew everything he knows.” 

I’ve been wrestling with the Father about what He has both given (or not given) and taken. Why did he let my friends leave? Why does He see fit to see me struggle in loneliness. Why has He withheld a companion from me? Why can’t I tangibly feel Him? Why does it seem like He is withholding or taking things from me? How can that equate delight? Yet when I stop throwing a temper tantrum and consider who He is, I realize that if I could see centuries down the road, I wouldn’t change anything. He gives what is best. He takes what is not. 

All this reminded me of something my friend forwarded to me. 

I understood the doctrine of grace—at least I thought I did. I had heard preachers (myself included) recite, “God accepts you just the way you are.” But “I enjoy you” was different. God’s acceptance is a lifesaving, judicial truth; we are forgiven. But merely to accept someone does not convey desire or delight. So in my mind, God’s acceptance was just a notch above tolerance: God in His grace permits us to come into His presence and heaven. But to enjoy someone indicates forward motion from God that expresses intentional and personal delight.

I realize that I fall into the category so often of God tolerating me. Right now I feel like he is merely tolerating me and thus being stingy with his gifts because it suits Him to be stingy. If he really delighted in me wouldn’t He have given me X or Y or not taken A & B? Oh how many times will I have to confess the sin that I believe He is holding out on me? How many times will I have to confess that He doesn’t seem to be enough to me? How many times must I confess that I don’t think He delights in me? I would be so free if I could ABIDE in the reality that He delights in me, He is for me, He loves me, He gives what is best and takes what is in the end poison. He has already given me the greatest gift, Himself. The cross. It all points me back to truth. He didn’t spare His Son, will He spare anything? And if he crushed His only precious son on my behalf, then surely this shows love for and delight in me. So I struggle with the ants and I struggle with my sin. I’m thankful He holds me fast.  

A Third Culture Birthday Party

Harry, Shelly, and I parted ways about two months ago. Their reason for taking language classes was to get into the university. My goal was simply to learn to speak better. Since the classes weren’t helping them achieve their goals, they stopped coming and spent time preparing for the university entrance exams. I had been missing them a lot and had been meaning to send them a message saying so for weeks. Then on Friday, Shelly beat me to the punch and sent me a message. It warmed my heart. I told her I’d like to see her so she invited me to her birthday party. 

Myself, Shelly, and Harry

I met up with the two of them in the city center. A few of Shelly’s friends joined us as well and we walked to her aunt’s house. I forgot that her family speaks Arabic rather than the local language. I hadn’t been expecting other locals or additional family members to be there either. I would guess there were about 20 people total. For some reason, it also never occurred to me that there would be dancing. I forget that people in this part of the world love to dance. That’s all they do at social gatherings but it’s not my cup of tea. I only dance when forced. When they weren’t making me dance, I pondered why we dance so little in the States. They seem to do it for fun and it brings them joy. We have so much to rejoice about and yet we rarely dance. Later when I told Harry that I only danced maybe once a year in America, he was shocked. He asked what we do for fun if we don’t dance. I told him we play board games or watch movies. Later I thought about how I would much rather have a conversation with someone than to spend an hour dancing with them. I didn’t come to a conclusion about our lack of dancing but would like to think on it a little more.

Myself, Shelly, and her guests

We spent the first 45 minutes or so dancing and then we ate. There were some sandwiches and a pasta dish along with 3 cakes. I didn’t taste the sandwich but the pasta was great. 

The food table

Candle time!

They had decorated with balloons and had
written each guest's name on one balloon.

I made some observations as I sat there trying to figure out which language to operate in. The house was old and the furnishings were old and worn. The home was small. I noticed an older looking picture of a graduate on the wall. I laughed to myself that they must be proud of him. I learned they had a male family member in the States in Tennessee. I mused that it was probably the successful and favored uncle. I later found out the graduate had been killed by a bomb in the war in their home country. They had all fled that country because it was no longer safe. It seemed ridiculous when they were asking me why I live here. To travel and learn a new language, to have fun. They were here to survive. I later wondered if the worn furnishings were for lack of money or rather if it’s because this is a transition home to them. They’re hoping to go to either Europe or America. 

With what ease have I lived my life. I felt like crying as I took it all in. I imagined my family being forced to move to a nearby country because of war. They would have to pool together all their resources to make the trip and set up a very meager home. Would they be able to speak the language? I know they would miss the former glory days of Tennessee. I had a hard time not feeling guilty about what an easy and safe life I have had. 

In the midst of it, Harry mouthed to me and asked if I was doing ok. He really is like a big brother to me. He’s 14 years younger than me but I feel like he watches out for me. I know he has feelings for Shelly so it leaves our friendship to be purely platonic. I eventually got up to tell Shelly that I would need to leave soon. I said all of this in English before realizing she doesn’t really speak English. I was so confused about the languages. Harry and I left together and he walked me to the bus stop. I was grateful for the insight into their lives and even more grateful for their friendship. 

The women in Shelly's family

Through the Eyes of Visitors

We had a group of folks come here to visit. One day we were in another city exploring a castle. The couple commented on how a tree we passed had the sweetest aroma. Many of you already know that I essentially have no sense of smell. I asked the couple what the tree smelled like. They were a little stumped at how to describe the smell. The wife commented, “How do you describe smell to someone who doesn’t have a sense of smell?” Even when they did describe the smell, not having a frame of reference, it didn’t register with me. When people tell me they smell roses or body odor, rain or fresh cut grass, these don’t register with me either. I have no frame of reference. 

As I was walking around praying for the folks that live here, it struck me that so often sharing with them is similar to my inability to smell. They have no frame of reference for the Good News that we know. They have never “smelled” the truth so when I explain it to them, it’s like they can’t connect it with anything in their lives. Not only that, I often find it hard to share with people who don’t have prior knowledge. How does one explain the Holy Spirit to someone who has no concept of the Trinity. Where does one begin to explain that Jesus is God’s Son to people who have no concept of that. It would take a miracle for me to understand smells. Likewise it will take a miracle for locals to have eyes, ears and minds to see, hear, and understand the Good News. 

View of the castle

Lami taking a break at the top

A view from the top

Having guests made me fall in love with these people all over again. I live among some of the most hospitable people in the world. We went to a local version of a meat and three kind of restaurant one day in that same nearby city. The workers were so attentive to us. The ground is a dirty place so a local would never put their bag on the ground. I knew this and as we were sitting down, I was trying to find a place to put my backpack. One of the workers saw my struggle and immediately brought an extra chair to our table for my bag. Later they continued to bring us extra bread and desserts. This is pretty common place for me but it was neat to see it through the eyes of my guests.

An old church steeple

Church doors are locked here

View of the old church from the rear

The city we were visiting is world-wide famous for their porcelain and ceramic. We went to a ceramic shop to browse around. We were met again with overwhelming hospitality. My guest decided to buy a fancy plate hanging near the ceiling of the shop above lots of fragile porcelain. She joked with the owner as to how he would safely get the plate down. He pulled out a tool with a handle and a metal plate scoop on it. Of course he had to give us magnets as gifts for buying from him and we had our usual glass of tea.

Ceramic fountain in the city center

We visited another porcelain area the following day. There were lots of shops and the married couple ended up in a different one than me. The owner was serving them tea. My friend and I joined them in their tiny store. They again were overly attentive to us and we became Facebook friends with them. When the owners found out I live nearby, they told me multiple times that I can come and stay the night at their home any time I visit and they will take me around to the places I had not yet visited in their city. I think I will. 

While my guests were here, I had to do a lot of translating. After a week of non-stop translating, my brain was pretty much mush. One day, my local friend said something and my American friend translated it into English. I naturally assumed that my guests did not understand but I caught myself just before I translated English into English. 

My lovely friend who traveled all this way to see me.

Henna Night

My art class finished because my teacher was getting married. She invited me to both her henna night (the night before the wedding) and her wedding. Since I had guests in town, they were welcome to come to the henna night. I always find this odd since they are complete strangers to the bride. I doubt very many Americans would invite 3 strange foreigners to their wedding. On the flip side, the wedding had a limited number of spaces and I was invited to the wedding but my guests were not. Having lived here for so long, this was also an oddity to me. Typically weddings are open to any and everyone who wants to come. In fact, only myself and one other art student were given invitations to the wedding out of four years of students. I felt honored but in the end I had to decline the wedding invitation due to a couple of reasons. 

I read that the henna night originated as the bride’s last night in her family’s home. Usually there are just women and it’s a sad occasion as the family says goodbye to their daughter. This henna night was held at a reception hall and included mixed company. As far as I could tell, there was no sadness. 

The event started at 7 so naturally we arrived at 8:30 to an almost empty room. I typically dread wedding type events for several reasons. One is that I usually have to go experience all of the new culture on my own. Usually events like this consist of super loud music and non-stop dancing. I’m pretty sure I have hearing loss from the henna night. I was also dreading interacting with all of the other art students. After months with these students, I still felt like an outsider and at times lonely or uncomfortable with them. That night they were so very attentive and hospitable to myself and my guests. The gals made sure to let us know what was going on and how we should act. I was so so grateful.

Kadie and her mom came and as you already know, they feel like family to me. So having guests with me, Kadie and her mom, and the other gals being so attentive, I was able to relax enough to just enjoy all of it. There was also a singer/dancer that kept me highly entertained and laughing. He would dance around like a crazy person as he sang and danced. Sometimes he would play a song and get out some drums and move all over the place. We watched him while we waited on the bride and groom to arrive. 

The bride and groom arrived around 9pm. They entered with flashes and sparklers and started off the official dancing. Her dress was absolutely beautiful. I was mesmerized by how beautiful it was. After they had a private dance or two, myself and the other guests joined them on the dance floor. We would be dancing in smaller circles and then suddenly the smaller circles would morph into a giant circle with the bride in the center and people taking turns to join her in the circle to dance with just her. We would then return to the smaller circles. One of the art class gals tried to get me to join the bride in the circle. I despise dancing and especially didn’t want to be in the center of everyone dancing. Eventually I caved and danced with the bride as briefly as I could manage. In the midst of our dancing, sometimes the dancer guy would bring his big ol’ drums through the crowd and dance around. At one point he gave a drum to both Ellen and her husband and they beat on the drums for a while. 

Beautiful dress, beautiful bride.

Sparklers!

The singer/dancer spun around while
simultaneously playing these five drums.

Ellen's little nephew had a drum too.

Like I mentioned, the music was so loud that I felt like I have permanent hearing loss. The call to prayer went off around 10:00 and out of respect, all music was stopped. I could barely hear what my friends were saying and my ears were muffled. My head also felt like it was going to explode from both the loud music and a headache I had before arriving. As soon as the call to prayer ended, the music and dancing recommenced. My guests and I were sitting by this point. I noticed that Ellen and her husband also sat on a fancy red couch reserved for them for the occasion. The singer/dancer had danced so much that he ended up changing clothes at least twice due to how much he was sweating. 

The moms dancing with their children.

Dancing with my guests, Kadie, and her mom.

The singer/dancer liked to play for Mr. Steve, my guest.
Note that he is wearing outfit #2.

Some guests began to leave and the singer/dancer stopped the music and told them to wait five minutes so we could do the henna part. All the girls began getting ready for the henna portion of the evening. Ellen and her husband went to change into new outfits. The bride typically wears red for the henna portion. Each of us girls received a tea light candle with elastic to wear on our palm. Some girls wore a headband with a red toile like veil and/or a pink scarf. The scarf was either draped around the shoulders or else tied on the arm. I wasn’t sure why there were two options. 

My guests wearing the pink scarves, red
veils, and elastic tea candles.

While we were waiting on the bride and groom’s wardrobe change, the singer/dancer discovered that my guests and I were American. He asked us to do an American dance. We were trying to decide what to do when one of the art girls remembered I had shown them the Chicken Dance. I laughed at the fact that we danced the Chicken Dance at a local henna party. The other guests and the singer/dancer joined us. 

Afterwards, we lit the candles in our palms and made an archway for the bride and groom to walk under. He came in and sat down in the center. We circled him while Ellen did a dance holding a pot. As the song came to an end, she threw the pot on the ground in front of him. Then they both sat in the center and we walked around them in a circle with our candles. Ellen looked so very serious but I don't know why. I think her mother-in-law was saying either a prayer or a blessing over her so it was a serious time. She put a gold coin in Ellen’s hand and then covered it with a glob of henna. The henna was covered with a napkin and a red sack was tied over the hand. Then another girl did the same to the groom. After the henna had been applied to the bride and groom, they put a blob in each of our hands. 

The henna dance.

After the pot was thrown down.

Henna on my hand.

After this, the dancing recommenced. It was almost 11 by this point and my friend had come to give us a ride home. I took a last minute picture with Ellen and gave her a gift. We left and I reflected that the henna night was one of my funnest experiences so far living in this new land. 

The red dress.