I went to an island recently near a rather large city. I spent a few days exploring there with some other gals. Vehicles are not allowed on the island so transportation consists of walking, biking, or riding in a horse-drawn carriage. My favorite was the horse-drawn carriage.
The architecture on the island was also unique. There were giant mansions and villas with beautiful flowers as well as many derelict homes long since neglected.
Our visit coincided with a special holy day. I believe it may have been a special day in the Greek Orthodox Church calendar. The island had very steep hills and at the top of one of the hills was an old church. Apparently locals consider it to be a holy place and on these special days, they make pilgrimages to the church to get their prayer requests answered. This is especially interesting because locals are Muslims not Christians yet they think there is power in visiting this worship facility of another faith. There are different ritualistic things they do to help get their requests answered.
1. They can walk up the giant, steep hill to the church.
2. They can walk up the hill barefoot.
3. They can walk up in silence.
4. They can unwind a spool of thread. If they make it to the top without the thread breaking, their wish should be granted. Each color of thread represents a different request. For example turquoise might be for a car while pink might be for a baby.
5.They tie the plastic label of a water bottle to a wish tree.
If a prayer request is answered, that person will return the following year, on the same day, and pass out candy or sugar cubes to other pilgrims to show their gratitude for the answered request.
After a several month stint in the States, I made my way back to my overseas home just in time for my friend Kadie’s wedding. Kadie was ready to scold me had I not made it back in time. Since I had been to several of her relatives’ weddings, she said it would have been shameful for me to not make it to hers. I agree.
The wedding consisted of two nights of activities. The first was the henna night and the second was the wedding. On the henna night, Kadie invited me to eat dinner with them at her house before the festivities started. Since I was still jet-lagging, I took a nap instead and went with J just a bit before the festivities began.
J and I ready to get our dance on!
Kadie’s friend, Mer, who had kept me entertained at the engagement party was there. She was the one who had kept critiquing my dance moves at the previous celebration. Over the course of the evening she would signal to me when I should dance and what I should be doing.
Kadie and Marty's Entrance
J and I joined in dancing about half of the evening. Since it was a henna night, halfway through the evening, Kadie changed dresses. J, myself and the other younger single girls were given some party favors/accessories and we danced around Kadie in her second dress. After this, they applied henna to Kadie and Marty and we walked around with candles in our hands. Yes, you read that correctly. We held fire in our hands as we walked closely to the other gals. After some more dancing, J and I left the party early.
Decked out in party favors
For J’s one year landiversary, she had wanted to ride in what I believed was a fictional horse drawn carriage. She claimed that she had often seen carriages in the pedestrian area of our city during summer months. I had never seen any such thing. Her landiversary coincided with cooler temperatures and I was gone during the warmer summer months. As we left the wedding we passed by the pedestrian area and lo and behold she wasn’t making the horse carriage up. We were able to ride in not only a horse drawn carriage but one with neon lights.
For our second night of wedding festivities, we debated on when we should plan to arrive at the wedding. The invitation said the food was at 6pm and the wedding would start at 8pm. Time is a weird thing in this culture. Typically it’s safer to show up later rather than earlier. I have often arrived too early and made my host feel uncomfortable. I have also tried going places late only to have friends call me at the designated starting time wondering if I’m lost or forgot about the event. I decided that J and I should shoot for arriving closer to 7. The wedding was kind of far so we called a taxi to take us there. It’s rare for me to call a taxi because most things are within walking distance and if not, a bus will do the trick. So when I say it was far, it was probably only a fifteen minute taxi ride but too far to walk or ride a bus.
We saw some of Kadie’s relatives and joined them at their table and began waiting for food. I assumed we would eat between 7:00 and 8:00. They didn’t actually start bringing out food until 8:30! I later asked Kadie’s mom, Aunt Jamie, about it. She said they write 6:00 on the invitations because they know locals come late and if they write 6:00 most will have arrived by 8:00.
Just as the food finished, Kadie and Marty entered.
Before I hit the dance floor, I ran into Ellen, my old art teacher. She was in town and had come to the wedding. It was fun catching up with her. We ended up getting in line together for the gold/money pinning ceremony.
Since Kadie and I are close friends, culture dictated that I pin gold on her. The previous day I went to a gold shop and bought the smallest and cheapest gold piece available. The small piece of gold cost me about $60. Local gold prices fluctuate based on global economies. Before I had left for the States, I had asked around about how much I should expect to pay for this gold piece. At that time a gold piece cost around 250TL. Because of some recent goings on in the economy, the lira had fell in value and the same gold piece was almost 400TL.
This seems like quite the lavish gift. In the States, perhaps, for a close friend you might give a $60 gift. But if you think in terms of locals and their own currency, this would be more like giving something worth $400. Let’s say you intended to give the nicest cliche toaster worth $250 but then there was an economic crisis, you would find a cheaper toaster or a cheaper gift. But in this culture, you are expected to give this gold piece no matter how much it costs. Let me explain a little further. I’m a bit of an oddity since I’m a foreigner but let’s take Kadie’s single friend Mer as an example. She also pinned the small gold piece. When she gets married, Kadie is required to give her the same size of gold regardless of the current value. She may get lucky and get the piece again for 250TL or it may be even more expensive like in the 600TL range. Technically when and if I get married, Kadie is supposed to give me the same amount of gold. Now I probably won’t ever see it because either I won’t get married, or I’ll have a wedding in the States and we don’t have that tradition.
I find this whole gold giving concept fascinating. I’ve ceased to describe it as a gift. A gift is something you give without expecting something in return. After the wedding, I met with Kadie and she mentioned that she really has no way of returning the favor. If I had been on my toes, I would have said, "It’s a gift, I don’t expect anything in return." I have other friends who talk about their gold debts and that they have to find a way to buy these gold pieces as friends have weddings and other celebrations.
I think this gold giving is another insight into their culture. Everything is tit for tat. When I go to someone’s house, they say "Hoş Geldiniz" (Welcome/I hope you came pleased) and I must say "Hoş Bulduk" (We were pleased.) When someone sneezes, I should say "Çok yaşa" (Long life) and they must reply with "Hep Beraber" (Always together). If someone brings me a plate with food, I must return their plate with food from my house. As a part of their religion, they are trying to make sure they don’t take advantage of someone. They are also trying to gain good works to earn their way into heaven. It’s the difference between earning something and a free gift. We don’t have all of these rules in our culture because our religion is based on a free and undeserved gift. Because we have received such a gift, we can freely give without expecting anything in return.
The gold pinning lasted a while and it gave some chances to actually have conversations with people. After the gold pinning, family members spent time dancing with Kadie and Marty. This meant that I had not danced during the first two hours of the wedding. When I did start dancing during the 3rd hour, I actually enjoyed it. I wasn’t exhausted from the previous hours of dancing. The dance floor was also less crowded and the crowd of people staring at me had lessened.
As the festivities were winding down, Marty’s brother asked how we were getting home. I told him we would probably take a taxi. He said we would not need to take a taxi because he would take us. I appreciated his care in this matter. He had plenty to deal with since it was his brother’s wedding. Then as the wedding wrapped up, all of Kadie’s relatives with cars also began asking if I had a ride home. Since I knew them a little better, I preferred to ride home with them. None of them would leave until they were sure that J and I had a spot in a car somewhere. This is one of the things I love best about living here. As Americans, we tend to think of ourselves. If someone is without a car, we think them strange and either lazy or bad with money. They should find their own way home. Since most people here do not have cars, those with cars are always thinking of others and how they can serve them with their car. Bravo! We can learn a lot from them.
On a funny note, Kadie’s mom was in the car with J and I. Her dad was supposed to be there too but instead his brother got in the car with us and his brother’s wife rode with Kadie’s dad. This meant that our driver and the other driver had to go to three separate places to drop people off instead of two. I found it quite comical.
Aunt Jamie and I
I leave you with a very popular wedding song. We heard it three or four times each night.
Grace brings my heart back to You through providential affliction. -paraphrase from The Valley of Vision
Difficulty in life makes me think God isn’t paying attention and the bad guys are winning. As God’s child, I think my life should be easy, predictable and comfortable. I begin doubting God’s goodness and quit going to him for help. God allows difficulties in my life because he wants to use them to complete his work in my heart. He is after full ownership of my heart. He wants to fill me so completely that I don’t have any fear, shame or doubt left. He wants to make me whole. “We cry out for God’s grace and we get it - but it’s not the grace that we’re looking for. We want the grace of relief or release. We get those in little pieces, but largely they are yet to come. What we really need right now is the grace of transformation.” -paraphrase and quote from New Morning Mercies by Paul David Tripp
God’s grace is often uncomfortable, afflicting grace. He brings challenges, suffering and discomfort into our lives to reveal our secret sins and subtle idols. He afflicts us so he can put to death our old naked, hiding selves and instead make us into his image. He wounds us so he can heal us, so he can make us whole. It is far from pleasant but if we make it through, we are grateful for how much stronger and healthier we are.
A key concept here is “if we make it through.” How often have I cried out for relief and railed against God for “holding out on me?” How often have I been wounded by a friend and held on to my wounds and bitterness until I became poisoned by them. Richard Rohr says,
“If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it."
Rohr continues that all pain and suffering is potentially redemptive. All wounds are potentially sacred wounds. The outcome depends on what we do with our affliction. Do we turn to God and ask for deep soul healing or do we turn on God and accuse him? Christianity is about transforming people so that we don’t keep handing the pain on to the next generation. We only have to look as far as Jesus to see a perfect example of one who suffered unjustly. He did not deserve that cruel death and yet he found a way to forgive his enemies. His life-giving, grace-giving sacrifice has been transforming people for centuries.
We have to make a choice. We can continue living as victims and allow bitterness to poison us. In doing so we will most assuredly make victims of others. Or we can let God’s afflicting grace bring our hearts back to Him and be made, not only whole, but into a free conduit of grace in this world.
As I’ve been back to the States, friends have cheerfully asked, “Well, are you glad to be back home?” A few have felt the need to self-correct and add a friendly, “I guess home is not here anymore so are you glad to be in the US?” Sometimes I feel irritated by the questions or assumptions about what I consider to be home. Sometimes I answer that I have two homes now, part of my heart is here and part of it is there. America shaped me, it made me who I am. There is no way that it cannot feel like home. But Central Asia, it’s become my home as well. It’s a new normal for me. In some ways I don’t fit in here anymore. I will never fully fit in there either. I’m caught between two worlds. Both are normal but both are different.
I read a blog post about this topic and the author summed up what I’m feeling well.
“I can’t go home… because I have more than one.
Someone else has said, “Home is where the heart is.”
Where is my heart?
Is it in the states with my family? Yes. Is it here in Germany? Also, yes.
Matthew 6:21 says, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Spot.On. She continues:
Even more important than my family in the states and the life I’ve been blessed with in Germany is Jesus. He is my treasure. He is where my heart is. He is my true home. - “No matter where I go or what I do, my heart – my home – is with Jesus and to this place, this person, I will always return.”
As I have been processing my time here in the States, I’ve begun missing Central Asia. Sure I miss it because of the slower pace of life. I miss it because of the focus on relationships rather than tasks. I miss the relationships. But mainly I miss it because I miss Jesus. I found him there in deeper ways than I ever did in the US. He became my home and I’m finding it harder to be with him here in the throes of the rat race that is America. It seems peculiar to me that my time in a country surrounded by people who don’t believe in Jesus actually made me closer to Jesus.
Having spent some time away from America, I’ve been able to view America from the outside in. I notice things now that I never noticed when I was in the thick things. In Central Asia, there is no denying a felt darkness with spiritual strongholds. Upon returning to the US, I have observed that we have our own spiritual strongholds. Two strongholds that have been evident to me are busyness and self-sufficiency.
Everything here is hustle and bustle. I have been easily sucked into the swift current of life. There is always another task to mark off of my to do list or another place I feel pressured to be at. I feel swept up in this hustle and bustle because everyone around me is in it too. Do you know anyone, outside of the obvious lazy bums, who ever rests? When was the last time you, or someone you know, ceased striving? When was the last time you took a nap? When was the last day you took a Sabbath from ALL work? No laundry, no grocery store trip, no cleaning, no yard work. When was the last time you took time to feast on the Word or spend a couple of hours with Jesus? I’m finding it more difficult to do these things here.
The other stronghold I’ve noticed is the deceiving idea that we are self-sufficient? It goes hand in hand with the busyness. I’ve noticed myself sucked back into this as well. When I say this, I mean that I foolishly think I can go for days without spending quality time in the Word and with Jesus. In Central Asia, if I went more than two days without this, my soul was withering. Here, I can go five or six days before I begin to feel the withering. I attribute some of this to the fact that I’m not beaten down as much by the darkness, the lack of the Body, or the opposition to the truth like I am there. In a sense the days are sunny and comfortable so I don’t feel the need to seek refuge from the deluge of rain.
But America dupes me into thinking that I’m strong enough on my own. I can work and serve my little heart to death without pausing to just be with him. I don’t need to slow down, rest, or soak in the Word because “I’ve got this.” I can be more productive if I just keep going. We need to look only as far as Jesus to see this is not true.
I recently attended a soul care retreat. We talked about Jesus’ pattern, in the book of Luke, of engaging in ministry and then disengaging by spending time with the Father in prayer. He would then go back out and engage in ministry. If anyone could have been the energizer bunny of serving, it would have been Jesus. He was ONE with the Father. He was GOD. But even he could not keep going without soaking in time with his Father. He had to slow down and get away regularly. Why oh why do we think we don’t need to do the same?
Guys, we have all been duped by our culture. And as someone who has tasted the richness of time with Jesus, I want to confess that my soul is withering as I try to do this without Him. I have been foolishly thinking that because there is sun and ease, I don’t need the Creator of the sun or a refuge from it. But I am withering. Like a branch broken off from the life source of the vine, I am withering. Like a person who has gone without life-giving food for days on end, I am starving. And I think if many people would take stock of their lives, they would recognize how withered and starved their souls are as well.
So I miss Central Asia because I had lengthy, feasting times in the Word. I miss it because I was not under the illusion that I could survive without Him like I am here in the US. I miss it because I miss Jesus. I made my home with him there and I miss my treasure, my heart, my true Home.
After this past month or so in the States, I’ve picked up on some things. I love talking about Central Asia. Sometimes I bore people with my stories and comparisons so I try to tone it down a little so as not to annoy people. I’ve found that some folks really want to hear a lot about my life but think they are either boring me with their questions or else that I need a break from talking about where I live. In light of this, I wanted to give some tips for how to best interact with me for those who are interested.
#1 - Ask me questions. It brings me such joy when someone wants to know about aspects of my life. I don’t really have any topics that I don’t want to discuss. Here are some ideas if you’re stuck.
*Language (grammar questions, how to say something, how it functionally works, etc.)
*Politics
*Costs of things (rent, cell phone, meat, veggies)
*Transportation
*Housing
*Great travel spots
*Best/Weirdest foods
*Funniest experiences
#2 - Don’t belittle or degrade the people or place where I have been living. Don’t make stereotypes. Instead, ask me how I have been loved for and cared for by the people. Ask me how they annoy me. Ask me what I like best or least about CA.
#3 - Don’t ask vague questions like “How was your trip? or “What do you like or not like about CA?” It’s hard to summarize 3+ years into those types of questions. Instead think of something more specific like “What were a few of your hardest moments/seasons?” or “Tell me about 2 sweet friendships with locals.”
#4 Don’t assume that I only feel happiness about being in America. Ask me how I feel about being here. Ask me if I’ve had any meltdowns here. Ask me if I’ve had any meltdowns there. Ask me about my trip to Walmart. Ask me what makes me happy about being here.
#5 Don’t compare your two week trip to “a random country” with my life in CA. If you want to talk about your trip, tell me about something that happened to you and then ask if I have experienced that where I live.
#6 If you are one of those people who want to hear about my life, tell me up front. Please ask questions! Invite me over for a meal or set up a time to chat for a bit.
I’ve been pondering what this means for a few days. How can being content celebrate grace? Lately I’ve been peeved at God for some things. I’ve been thinking of him as a bad father who gives rocks instead of bread. I’ve been focusing on my lack. I blame him for not giving me what I feel like I deserve. If he were really good then he would______. I have not been content.
But then I read this:
“Thy blood is the blood of incarnate God,
its worth infinite, its value beyond all thought.
Infinite must be the evil and guilt
that demands such a price. -
Sinner that I am, why should the sun give me light,
the air supply breath,
the earth bear my tread,
its fruits nourish me,
its creatures subserve my ends?
Yet thy compassions yearn over me,
thy heart hastens to my rescue,
thy love endured my curse,
thy mercy bore my deserved stripes.”
-The Precious Blood, Valley of Vision
How quickly I forget his goodness. I’m angry with him for the pain, the discomfort, the discipline. Like Adam and Eve I begin to think he is holding out on me. Oh how real it feels when the bread looks like rocks or snakes and the treasure looks like trash. But his infinitely valuable blood was spilled for my infinitely evil rebellion. Isn’t this an eternal promise of his goodness?
I diminish his goodness with my wicked, doubting thoughts. I also minimize my sin. I blame him for not being good when in reality I am the evil one and am experiencing discipline for my lingering sin. I don’t deserve sunshine or rain, breath or health, ease or nourishment. I deserve eternal torment, separation from Him. Praise God that he does not give me what I deserve!
So contentment celebrates grace. Contentment celebrates that He is enough. Contentment worships because I have not been given what I deserve. Contentment is grateful that I have received what I did not deserve.
“The contented heart is satisfied with the Giver and is therefore freed from craving the next gift. - Here is one of the most beautiful fruits of grace - a heart that is content, more given to worship than demand and more given to the joy of gratitude than the anxiety of want.” -Paul David Tripp
Oh may his grace bear the fruits of contentment, worship and joy in my life.
I took a diction course a month or so ago. My aim was to learn better how to pronounce some of the sounds that still make me sound like a foreigner. I also hoped that I would make a new friend.
The first day of class felt more like a philosophy lesson. Our teacher kept telling the folks in my class that they struggled with speaking because of a lack of self-esteem. “Know thyself,” was her mantra. If a person would only know their weak areas and why they were weak, their speaking would right itself. After that first day of class, I almost decided to not go back. I decided to give it another try on the second day.
The second day was more helpful. I began to realize that most of the content consisted of things I had learned previously in either speech or communication classes. It was a good reminder to remember that I need to be aware of my tone, facial expression, body language, etc. as I talk with people. We also eventually got around to talking about some of the sounds I was having problems with.
On the 4th day of class, we had a written test on what we had learned. Yes, a test. Those who complete these courses, receive a certificate at the end. Because of this, there must be something that quantifiably shows the student has mastered the subject. I remember a few difficult written tests from my life. I remember taxing my brain to try to search out the right answers. Taking a test on this deeper content in my second language was at least three times as hard as those kinds of tests. Luckily the teacher helped me out a bit.
Speaking of deeper content, my brain was working extra hard to listen in and learn such a wide array of new vocabulary. The course consisted of class three days a week for three hours a day. I felt like my brain was trying to shut down during the three week period. I think I spent a few days after the course vegging out to rest my brain.
I was the only foreigner in the class. The dynamic between students and the teacher was really interesting to watch. Everyone respected the teacher, hung on her words, and defended her if someone happened to disagree with her. It was like I was in an entire class of brownnosers. Only one other student didn’t participate in the brown-nosing. I became weary of just how often they seemed flatter the teacher, only it wasn’t flattery. They really seemed to admire her. It was an interesting insight and taught me that I need to be careful with my authority when I become the teacher.
Often the teacher would ignore me as she asked questions or critiqued students. Since I was a foreigner and had confessed that I only understood 75% of what she was saying, she seemed a little gun shy with me. After I passed our first test, she realized that I understood more than she thought. She would sometimes call on me after this. On a side note, I got the worst score in the class but the class cheered for me when they learned I had passed.
My class consisted of about 10-12 students. Except for one student, we were all single. One day, my teacher was asking people to make a face when they were planning something. When she came to me, I think she assumed I didn’t understand so she asked if I wanted to get married. I think she was going to ask me to think about planning the wedding. I told her that usually I do not want to marry. She asked me why. I kind of shrugged and then used an idiom of theirs that basically means “a bachelor’s life is king.” The entire class (who were mostly single) burst out in laughter and applause at my answer. Some of them told me later that they would never forget my answer.
One aspect I really enjoyed from the course was that the other students and I would go out for tea after class. It felt like a very normal thing that I would have done in America. I don't spend too much time with peers or going out in a group of mixed company. I enjoyed the chance to do this for a few weeks.
Probably my favorite part of the class was meeting a new friend, Rosie. I had prayed about meeting a new friend before going. It turns out Rosie had lived in the States for three to four months. We hung out and it felt like we had been friends for ages. After our course ended, Rosie and I met up one day to chat. She told me she was moving to another city the following day. Even though we barely knew each other, it felt like a loss. We spent so much time talking together during those three weeks together that we had not taken one single picture together. We took our first selfie the last day I was with her.
Working on vowel sounds
Tea with the other students
A party on our last day of the course
A cake made by one of the students with all our names on it.
