Feeling like a Galilean...

A week from now, I'll be on a plane heading out to South Africa via the UK. Joyously, it will be to meet with many of the brilliant minds of the church to discuss issues and confront challenges both within and without in the coming years. It's terribly exciting to think of the people I'll be rubbing shoulders with, the voices from all over the world and the renewed vision and zeal for the Kingdom that will arise from this family gathering.
People around me have been getting excited as well, and hurriedly asking me what else is left, how am I doing, what's going to happen. Churches have been asking me how I can help liaise with them on their attempts to connect with what will be happening in real time, while I am there, and they are here.
Sadly, however, the only place where I have barely heard a peep is my own home church. My elders keep telling me that prophets are not welcome in their own hometowns, so this shouldn't surprise me at all. And it doesn't. Yet, for the past year, it has astounded me at the profound ignorance and apathy that has gripped my local family about this congress, about the issues and about what the rest of the global family is thinking and doing. For a church that claims that it is missions-minded, it has obstinately chosen to navel-gaze, choosing not to participate in where we are going, what we are thinking and who we are becoming, staying in its time-warped and ethnocentric views of the world. Sigh.
Some of these other churches and people cannot believe that my church hardly cares that I'm going. They tell me how they wish they, or someone from their congregations, were going, and how they'd give eye-teeth to do so. I can believe it, sadly.
So it's slightly bitter-sweet, my getting on this plane. The family that greets me on the other side looks to greater things, and His greater glory. The family I leave behind will likely hardly notice I left, and likely will not care about the greetings and urgings that our relatives will urgently send back with me from Africa.

Farmer's almanac

I guess part of the problem of being a dreamer is crashing and burning when reality smacks you in the face.
Case in point: I'm even getting jaded by the quirky and peculiar people of my little rural town.
Now, I'm not sure if it's me, or if it's just that simply that society has gotten more petulant, but, for highlights:

One man came into my emergency department (I'm going to emphasize this was an emergency department in a hospital; not a walk-in clinic, not a family practice clinic) telling me he hadn't had a poo in about 16 hours, basically since the night before.
"Besides," said he, "you guys are here anyways, so I thought I'd check."
"Well sir," I replied, "technically, I am only here to care for emergencies."
"This IS an emergency!" quoth he.
Suffice it to say, I quickly dispatched him from the emergency room. I warned the nurses if he showed up again, I'd give him a bowel prep, and will forever banish the notion of his being constipated ever again.

Another brought her adult daughter with a long-standing seizure disorder, worried that she was "about" to have a seizure... over the past eight hours. Wanted to 'drop her off' so our nurses could watch her overnight, 'just in case'. Ridiculous, thought I; my RNs are not Registered Nannies. Speaking to the adult daughter, who felt unwell, but certainly not definitely pre-seizure, was annoyed that her "overprotective" mother brought her in without asking her opinion on the matter - she herself felt well enough to manage at home, and certainly didn't feel she needed to be in hospital - dispatch.

One woman brought in her teenage son, that, not only had he already seen his family doctor several days before, and already had Xrays done, AND had another appointment with the family doctor the very next day, had a sore arm. Which was just a sore arm - dispatch.

The one legitimate thing I did deal with, however, was a true anaphylactic reaction - hives, swelling, throat closing, losing air, the whole kit and kaboodle. And it was great, cause we saved him (Though, admittedly, if the patient had been actually carrying an Epipen around with him and had been using it, it likely wouldn't have been as dramatic).

Another great interaction that I had was completely unexpected. One woman, who had gone for her routine mammogram a month ago, had been called back for special views, some unusual masses were seen, and it was recommended that she go for biopsy of those masses. I stepped in at this part of the story, so I arranged for her biopsies to be done on a semi-urgent basis. The patient then wanted to come in to speak to me. "Oh no," I thought, "she's going to rant and rave about how slow and incompetent I and the system are, or she's going to freak out and blubber all over me about how she's going to die, or something to that effect along that spectrum. Great."
Turns out, she was the first EVER rational patient that I've seen in this scenario. She's leaving for a short vacation tomorrow, so isn't able to accommodate a biopsy to be done for another week and a half. She feels that she would like to go on vacation anyways, as she figures, it's already been a month in the making anyways, and besides, if it does turn out to be bad news, she would have rather have gone on vacation while she still could. RATIONAL! Loved it. Cringing all the way to the clinic door, and finding a rational patient inside was a complete revelation.
But the story turns yet again; she then informs me that her faith is stronger than illness, and she is willing and able to handle whatever God throws her way - bravo for her! I then also reminded her that illness and death are but temporary things, to which she agreed and was even more satisfied in her decision to go and enjoy her vacation with her family. Kudos to her; she single-handedly reminded me that, like pearls in mud, sometimes there are people out there that make sense in the world.

FFT

So, I realize that the weblink eventually may expire, so I thought I should re-print my article online for posterity's sake (I think they have the rights to the article for a certain amount of time, but as I'm not earning anything from posting, I think maybe this is OK?). The original link is at http://www.christianweek.org/stories.php?id=1012&cat=capetown2010 .

It is with surprise and delight that I find myself among the 50 delegates chosen to represent Canada at the upcoming Lausanne Congress for World Evangelization in Cape Town, South Africa this fall. Standing amongst this country's leaders in evangelical ministry and mission, I often wonder how I could have possibly ended up with such an illustrious group.

Certainly, my work is most definitely secular. My practice as a physician, my advocacy as a food security and agricultural rights activist and my studies in global public health broaden the base from which I approach global issues and mission. I don't work in full-time ministry; I don't work as a long-term medical missionary, and I don't have any official theological training.

However, the global purposes of God's Kingdom still run through my veins as my very lifeblood, as it should invigorate and energize the entire Body in its identity and purpose. Hence, my presence signifies those of us in the Church who are not the clergy, nor in "ministry," but those in the flock who devotedly and wholeheartedly follow the Shepherd.

God's global purposes are vast. He cares about the spiritually lost to come to and reconcile with Him, but He also cares about His Kingdom Come on Earth, as it is in Heaven. Issues of injustice, poverty, the environment, slavery and the many imbalances between the Global North and the Global South are also Kingdom concerns. The face of the global church is changing, and we in the West need to respond to these changes with humility and grace, understanding that it can no longer be an us/them mentality in global mission, but the flowering of partnerships and being companions on the journey together.

There is also much brokenness within the Church, and brokenness without in the world. The Church needs to consider not only how to reconcile the brokenness within itself, but also how to demonstrate with fierce love the uniqueness of Christ in a pluralistic, multi-religious world.

This is why this upcoming Lausanne Congress is so critical in our times. We live in interesting times, indeed, and our God continues to work His purposes out and invites all of us to join Him. We, as a global family, with our brothers and sisters all across the globe, will symbolically come together in South Africa to reinforce our core beliefs as evangelicals, to envision the evangelistic task that remains and to humbly commit ourselves to lives that are fitting for both the slaves of Christ and the heirs of Christ.

Each Lausanne Congress has been a watershed moment in how the Church understands its calling into the world and has transformed the way that the Bride has gone to fulfill her purposes in it. I anticipate nothing less from this upcoming Congress; God will do great and wondrous things through His people who are called by His Name.

I expect that I will wrestle alongside leaders from across the globe with how the whole church can and should bring truth and justice to the nations, how wide the mandate and vision of the whole gospel is and just how big and how loved the whole world is. I hope this vision, brought back to the Canadian church, will inspire it onwards to greater passion and greater purpose.

We should all be excited and privileged to live in such times, to have such hope, to hold on to such treasure and to be allowed to share it with others.

The Lausanne Canada committee invites all Canadians to participate in the global conversation that is happening, even now, and into the Congress. Together, by conversing and learning from one another, we can start to catch a glimpse into the mighty purposes of God in our world today.

Inspiring stress

'Tis true: going to graduate school is quite a different phenomenon than undergraduate. Seeing as this is the first time (because I'm not promising it'll be the last!) around the graduate merry-go-round, this is interesting coming at it with the other undergrad degrees under my belt. It is really superb to be talking to profs as human beings, and meeting for coffee and meals, which is totally unheard of at the undergraduate level (unless something really dicey is going on).
However, one thing that has been a bit humbling to experience is the awe that is assumed to be my due, which is crazy, 'cause I'm such a big clutzy loser. Yet, much is expected of me, and I have already been given much advice by faculty members who have told me to aim higher, aim closer, aim precisely as to what is expected of me.
How stressful! They do remind me, as I was already well aware, that my education and my background inherently make this degree qualitatively different than it does for every single other student in my school. This puts additional pressure that is starting to make me a bit antsy, and brings up bigger questions: What am I doing here? What is the purpose? What is The Purpose in being here, and how does it help Kingdom come about?

The First Day of School

Ahhhh, the newly sharpened pencils, brand new binders, a knapsack with Dora the Explorer cleverly going on an adventure on the front.... just kidding.
What it really looks like for me is lugging my laptop, water bottle and lunch bag downtown for my first day of school (again, for the umpteenth time)! It really was like the first day of high school, or something like that - it has been so long since I've had to have a 'first day of school', I'd forgotten what it was like. Certainly, in my program, 90% of us are women, so it's made early bonding way easier.
There is something inevitably exciting about starting a new school year, however. The possibilities seem endless, the opportunities abound, the thinking and knowledge and intellectual challenges required of me almost make me swoon with delight. Obviously, this time around, it's not going to be all beds of roses - there's slightly more at stake, I now have way more responsibilities and commitments than I ever did previously, and much is expected of me. Whoa. Well, one or two credits at a time, I keep saying to myself, plod along, keep cracking at it, and it'll be done wayyyy down the road.

Seek the welfare of that city

It's been a bit hectic, running from province to province in this country over the past few weeks. That being said, being most recently in Winnipeg had me reflecting with others on the raison d'être of the city.
It has seemed to be, at least among some segments of the people that I know in my own city and in other places in the country, those that are upwardly mobile in career aspirations and income, are gradually moving out to the suburban areas of the city. Others I know, who are much more diverse in their work, incomes, and forms of what "family" is defined as, are choosing to live, work and play in the urban areas of the city.
Yet another friend, who is intending to move back downtown to the city, after living in the suburbs for several years, has been strongly encouraged to stay in the suburbs, as it is "cheaper", "safer", "better property values"....
It begs several questions: Is the city simply a utilitarian vehicle, a place where you come to earn and spend money, but have no emotional investment in, have no civic engagement, cannot suffer with it, as you sleep and 'live your life' elsewhere? If so, then I have no issue with downtown workers living in suburban areas. However, if the city is something that you love, something whose welfare you seek, something whose people and issues and mess and diversity is something to embrace and cherish, then choosing to live elsewhere and ignore the needs and demands of the city, to me, is questionable.
It also asks: Is it really cheaper, safer, etc? Cheaper per square foot, perhaps, but cheaper in terms of transport, in terms of engagement with your neighbours, in terms of time spent going from place to place? From the census data, the only truly safe place to live in Toronto is in Rosedale/Bridle Path area, and everywhere else in the city has had crime in it. But (in terms of begging for more questions), is it the role of the Christian to choose not to live in those places, to flee to "safe", homogeneous areas, or, again, is it to suffer with and love the city?
It is understandable how buffoons like Rob Ford can pander to the electorate - by choosing to target the beautiful messiness of the city and to elevate and enshrine the entitlements of the suburbs, it speaks to those who, at bottom, do not consider themselves part of the lifeblood of the city.

I could do this for a living...

So this past week marks a few milestones for me: I've had my first article published, and my first paid gig as a speaker. That's pretty cool on several fronts.
Now, it wasn't some medical research paper published in a journal - that, I've done before. But it was a short article about missiology and changing norms in the evangelical world, so that was cool. They were even gracious enough to send me a few copies.
My second stint was at a conference/retreat this weekend, where I was asked to speak about the intersection between food and faith. That was also really cool. It was a basic international food justice issues 101, really, with a resounding reminder as to why the children of God must care about land, place and space. Not just caring about individual souls, but also for all of creation, as the "gospel... has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven."
I could seriously do this for a living. It is way more intrinsically interesting than clinical work.

Fishing the high seas or pillaging the oceans

I've been out of commission for a bit, for various reasons that I'm trying to shake off, though it's not working terribly well.
However, one thing that I have been doing is finally finishing various books sitting in my bookshelf that I have taken much time (years, in some cases) to actually complete.
One book that I'm working through is Taras Grescoe's BottomFeeder. This is all the more embarrassing in that I've actually met him, he's signed my copy of the book, and we've discussed fisheries. At any rate, I suppose some would say better late than never.
It's helped clarify some of my hesitation around the ethics of seafood, and reconfirmed my cessation of the eating of shrimp, salmon, cod, etc. Taras has, in fact, written a great book - what some call the Fast Food Nation (Eric Schlosser) of the sea. Incisively talking about the horrible effects of shrimp farms on the watersheds, mangrove forests and rice fields of India and Southeast Asia, let alone the lack of scruples in the processors in treating shrimp with Borax and other foul chemicals to keep them looking nice and pink and preventing them from rotting. The discussion around the Norwegians' treatment of the BC coastline for their salmon farms, and how they have destroyed their own coastlines, bringing them to come to BC to destroy ours. How Canada almost led the way to the razing of the oceans by our spectacular collapse of its cod industry 20 years ago. How the Chinese and the Japanese, if they don't start seriously thinking about their pillaging of the oceans, will eventually cause the destruction of their very cultures. It's quite chilling.
Ironically, I went to dinner with a friend recently, and they really wanted to eat sushi. The idea of this, though I previously loved eating sushi, and then, after that, became hesitant to go, now makes my stomach turn. I'm afraid I'm down to the vegetarian udon soups and vegetable maki at sushi restaurants in order to be responsible to my Creator and His creation...

I give you 50 cents, they give you 50 cents....

Now, one thing that is truly hysterical about Asians (myself included) is how far we will go to get a deal. Now, sometimes it veers into -this is not funny anymore, now you're just taking huge advantage over someone else- territory, but most of the time, it's just damn funny.
Point: one local theatre finished its new renovations and was offering "free" movies (though it was collecting donations for a charity of their choice) today. Well, guess what: it was packed with Asians. It was actually on the verge of ridiculous. Some of us met up in the line, and I got there a bit late due to bike troubles, but when I arrived there, no joke, 80% of the line up were Asian people. OK, one weekend before, they were hardly around for the G20 protests, but, oh man, you give them free stuff, and they'll be there on the double! Some had even arrived with their own portable chairs to sit in line, that's how hard core we're talking.
The first (yes, we saw a few - hey, it's free, what do you want us to do? We are what we are - shrug) movie we saw was "How to Train your Dragon" (which, btw, was incredibly cute, and now I want a dragon too), and we were literally swimming in a sea of Asians in the theatre. Which made us all laugh in our seats, seeing everybody else, just as we were, as we knew exactly why we were all there.
I am sad to report, however, a few other things of note. The donation box that was out in the lobby was not stuffed full as far as I could tell (which doesn't surprise me, considering the demographics of who showed up for the movies). Also, the second movie we saw was an environmental defence documentary, of which, contrastingly, we were the only Asians in the room. Both of those small, yet noticeable, things made me a bit sad about other tendencies that we tend to have as a large megabloc of people....

FFT

OK, this is actually a FFT that I wrote myself, but the protestors from the G20 summit have really riled me - this is the FB status that I posted yesterday, and that one friend pointed out was not unlike a 'reverse Beatitudes' - high praise indeed! :

[I am] now really angry at all the garbage happening in my city... praying that the police officers will be all able to safely return to their families when this is all over, BUT....
- for the police officers that are heavy-handed and overstepping their boundaries - shame on you.
- for the idiots who have come to my city and destroyed its downtown, burning cars (and exuding fossil fuels) and vandalizing buildings (requiring more resources to rebuild), you make me EMBARRASSED and ASHAMED to be part of the movement - shame on you.
-for the G20 leaders (who are having a likely delicious meal prepared by Ryan and his compatriots) who choose not to act justly in the interests of all peoples of the earth - shame on you.
- for all the poseurs and voyeurs who have just gone downtown to take photographs and videos but do NOTHING to protect our city - shame on you.
- for those who on the left who claim this will all be the police's, multinationals' and G20's fault - we all know this to be untrue - shame on you.
- for all the multinational corporations that continue to act in ways that provoke people to such anger in the first place - shame on you.
- for all the (predominantly) white college kids I'm seeing wandering around, pretending to represent the Global South and the desperately poor - how do you think you managed to fly all the way here and buy the items you needed to wreck my city?? - you do not actually stand for them- shame on you.
- for the media that is running around trying to get as much footage of burning cars and police action, reveling in the violence, but not sending us clear messages as to what the protests and the G20 are about - shame on you.
- for all of you jerky anti-social types that think that you can just cause chaos and ugliness just because you can - shame on you.
- for those of you who torched cars, only blocks away from where families I know LIVE with their CHILDREN - shame on you.
- for those of you who vandalized the CBC van - you (likely American) idiots - you just vandalized the public broadcaster, not a multinational news agency - you idiots - shame on you.
- for those of you who will say this is all Harper's fault - this is only partially true - and I will remind you that the creation of the G20 was a Liberal idea - the cancer is in ALL of us - shame on you.

Righteous anger

This weekend, the G20 meets in Toronto. Now, the origins of the G20, its mandate and purpose, and its methods are all very problematic. What they represent, indeed, is concerning for many people of the planet. They do choose to work outside of the United Nations, effectively weakening the UN and its mandate to represent the interests of all nations on the earth. I do think that their emphasis on economic growth (for themselves exclusively) and half-hearted attempts at dealing with urgent justice issues (like HIV/AIDS and maternal health) is focussed a bit wrongly.
I understand how there are many who are angry, though for a myriad of different reasons, at what the G20 represents: it represents disproportionate power and disproportionate wealth.
However, what has been going on for the past twenty-four hours makes my blood boil, and makes me embarrassed and ashamed that I would even label myself as part of the movement. I am sick of hearing stupid little college kids saying that they are standing in solidarity with the Global South, and that it's the multinationals who cause all the violence, so they are justified in breaking windows at Starbucks. Gimme a break. I am sick of the excuse that because it is 'their' fault, 'our' actions are justifiable.
I went to an anti-G20 rally yesterday, hoping to be inspired to seek a different, better world, but found that it was just railing against their perception of what reality is, but offering no real practical alternatives, and only offering that another world is inevitable, possible.
Bah. The cancer is in all of us. Watching people that had flown in from around the world, railing against the oil and gas companies made me realize the futility in that, if one is not willing to acknowledge the cancer is in you, too. Watching aboriginal leaders saying it is all the government's fault, but not taking some responsibility for their own communities. Watching labour leaders saying it is all the multinationals' fault, but not taking responsibility for their own actions that account for how well (or not) the company will run. Watching activists saying that everyone deserves to have a good job, but then refusing to acknowledge that business plays a role in people getting jobs.
Ultimately, of course, it is sin which is the cancer that lies in each of us. And ultimately, these policies, meetings, protests, etc, will lead to nothing until there is actual transformation of the human heart. Until we recognize that we are all in this together, and we cannot do it alone, not without God. Until we recognize that God has given us the right to have dignity, but also the responsibility to provide dignity to others.
Today shows the lack of dignity that everyone has shown to everyone else. And this breaks my heart; if the church had stepped in a few decades before and had used its voice to speak on behalf of the voiceless, we likely would not have gotten to this point. But the Body's silence also speaks volumes...

Makes you get all racist against redneck white trash, don't it??

I think I have to relegate it to my going through another bout of nightmares, and being over-tired to reacting so emotionally today.
It's quite a common occurrence for health care staff to get verbally abused by patients - it's par for the course, and eventually you kind of get immune to all the complaints and yelling. Today was no different - we had a patient who had been waiting for 90 minutes in the emergency dept (I'm going to point out they'd only waited 90 minutes in an emergency department), and they had even gone home in between to get a bit of lunch (so technically they hadn't even waited for 90 minutes), who started getting verbally abusive, going through the regular rants of how incompetent and lazy we are, how they pay taxes and deserve better treatment than that, etc etc. Par for the course. No big deal - I quite pointedly stated that there are other patients, sicker patients, we'll get to you when we get to you.
Eventually, of course, they're chewing out the nurses, starting to become physically aggressive and starting to vandalize the emergency department. We give them another warning - but again, no big deal, still par for the course. Normal behaviour, nothing terribly unusual on a day to day basis.
They then pull out the big guns and start calling us very unladylike names (along the lines of dogs, crude anatomical structures, prostitutes, and the like), which then got me justifiably angry, so I called the OPP to escort them from my emergency department.
Which, of course, made them decide to leave before the cops arrived. But on the way out, they reminded me that I'm just a Chink, and that I should just go back to my country, 'cause people like me don't belong here. (See, that's making me cry again just typing it out). After they left, I couldn't finish my report to the OPP because I was crying too much, and one of the nurses had to give the report.
And that's the crazy thing: I can take verbal abuse, I can take crude language, and dish it out equally, but that (besides being incredibly inaccurate and ignorant, not being Chinese and being born here to boot) just cut me through. And I'm not sure why having my femininity challenged is something that can get me angry and react for justice, but challenging my racial identity makes me so upset. I think perhaps when you hear 'bitch' or 'whore' heard many times in different contexts (including in music and regularly on the street), it becomes relatively meaningless. However, words like 'nigger', 'jap', 'chink', 'paki' and the like bear so much weight and oppression on them, that they are heavy slaps in the face that draw your breath when you encounter them. And they are oppressive terms: terms developed by the white majority to perjure the coloured minorities, and they have been used that way ever since.
The plus side in all of this is that this patient is now banned from seeking care in this particular network, and I explicitedly asked the OPP if that patient came back, and I slugged them in the face, would that be a problem, and they didn't seem to think so, then that's helpful :).

Exfoliating epidermis

One thing you need to know about Koreans; they like to exfoliate. A lot. Scrub right down past several layers of dead epidermis to get down to the clean layers.
After returning from Haiti, I'd been feeling particularly dirty and knowing that I bore the dirt and grime of several cities and countries. I'd heard that Korean sauna/spas offered body scrubs in NYC, so I figured there must be some equivalent here, so I found out that yes, we do have one here in the city. So, off I went, sweated and rehydrated in the sauna, and then went to get my epidermis removed.
You know that scene in the Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe series where Edmund becomes a dragon, and in order to be returned to his original shape, Aslan has to scratch and tear at his dragon flesh to get to the soft boy flesh underneath? Yeah, that was it. It was pretty awesome. I know people usually tell me that I have good skin in the first place, but it is particularly amazing to me now, like I had lost all my dragon scales and returned to human flesh. I'm afraid they've gotten themselves a repeat customer....

Using the same vocabulary

I am so very chuffed; I get totally excited by our missions conference every year, to be sure, but this year is particularly so. I mean, the people who organize it always come through with some of the most incredible people in our world today, and it is a privilege to be in their presence to learn and engage with.
However, this is the first time in a long time, that I am hearing people speak the same language as I. No, not that nobody has ever spoken English to me before, but it is as if this vocabulary, this language, these semantics, these nuances and expressions are coming through piercingly sharp and clearly in focus. It is almost as if you manage quite well through life with 20/20 vision, and one day, your vision improves to 20/10, and the edges are more crisp, the vision is clearer than air, the colours even more vibrant. It is as if your visual comprehension of the world comes through in technicolour and beyond.
It is this way now. It is as if they are speaking what I say in my heart and my mind every day. Discussing with one of them strategies for the Kingdom, and speaking of what I understand, he stopped me and said, "You are speaking our language!", to which I laughingly replied, "But you are speaking mine!".
It is profound, to resonate with what one hears. I feel like a tuning fork, forced to quiver at the exact same frequency that is rumbling through the earth, the mighty rumblings of God and His righteousness and His justice upon the earth.

Haiti IX

Haitian Creole is a language unto itself; it is a mixture of French, Spanish and other conquerors' languages, created out of necessity by slaves from all sorts of different people groups out of Africa, desperate to find some means of communication amongst themselves that the 'blans' couldn't fully understannd. For, you see, the French were quite smart; they split up families and people groups, so, like the Tower of Babel, these new slaves wouldn't be able to communicate with one another and perhaps be able to plan and plot to overthrow the oppressor.
I am finding I can understand the general gist of conversations going on; I even found I could keep up with a sermon (in a service where I preached a mini-sermon of my own) in Creole. However, I'm only picking up about 60% of what's being said...

Haiti VIII

I know I've mentioned this before, but being able to authentically start crossing cultures, by being humble and choosing to learn, rather than informing cultures what to do and how to do them, stripping them of power and dignity, is an incredible gift. I myself am not great at it either; I hope and pray that I hold myself in a learner's position. I know that I am not good at listening humbly to my own culture; I feel like I am perpetually gouging out the log in my own culture's eye and prophetically (or, some would say, obnoxiously) speak perpetually about our own logs. I have been trying to understand the Haitian's point of view here and struggling between two cultures. Being the only person in the group who is, not able to speak to heart language of the Haitians, but able to converse in a language more easily spoken by them, leaves me in a vulnerable position on the team, as there is a sense I am on the "side" of the Haitians.
However, there are no sides here, though lines are being drawn. I know I tend to want to fall under the authority of national partners, rather than imposing my culture's point of view.
To me, my observed experiences thus far of agencies here shows the continued imperialism and arrogance that we in the West are constantly accused of (and in fact practice) when we are invited (or not) into other countries to serve them.

Haiti VII

Yesterday we went to a clinic in a village, and held it in the local church. It was stifling in there, as the building was enclosed and had a tin roof. You know there's something wrong with you when you step outside of a hot building and think, "Ah! What a refreshing day it is outside!", when it's actually 37C outside. It's gotta make you wonder just how hot it was inside the building in order to make 37C "refreshing".
However, that's not the point of the post. Our clinic was interrupted by screams and yelling outside (never a good sign). We found ourselves witness to a domestic assault, with the man beating the woman with a chair and a bicycle. We were advised to not get involved, and some of our translators and others relatively quickly dissipated the conflict. However, there were certain aspects about this that disturbed me (and not just the fact that I was prevented from participating in some greatly anticipated vigilante justice). One, many of the young men and boys were standing around and watching. And choosing not to participate. If men choose not to participate in administering justice, then they are continually and consistently choosing injustice. Secondly, one of our (male) team members patiently explained to me that there may have been reasons and justifications for his actions that we cannot know and that we cannot judge.
Hence, I suppose, that we can allow pedophilia, suppression of women, domestic violence and rape to continue, as we cannot know the hidden conflicts ad stresses that drive men to do such horrible things to women. Talking to one of the ex-Christians here, the lack of pursuit of a true, deep justice is one of the reasons why the Church is so very flawed, and 'logically' also, it's leader. That breaks my heart.

Haiti VI

You can tell that Haiti was at one point in its history, a beautiful country; there is much coastal land and mountains. But one can also see what (for a MYRIAD of reaons) poor judgement and wisdom have done here.
Much of the land, previously lush and fertile forests, is denuded of trees; 98% of the land is deforested, it has one of the highest rates of soil erosion, and this year's current crop is being threatened as the rainy season has yet to start (though that is a small mercy, in some ways, as many Haitians and NGOs are working to get their homes/tents to higher ground).
Now I have never been to another Carribean country before, so I suppose I cannot compare, but it seems to me that there is a tragic beauty here, a faded past that I hope one day can return.

Haiti V

I'm a bit conflicted here on a lot of different levels. I feel like I am violating many of my fundamental principles of how I understand justice, missions, global dynamics and politics, and equity. And I don't think it's in a good way, in a kind of "Oh, God's really stretched me to reconsider the boundaries of His love and His grace", rather, I feel that I am compromising, shrinking, oppressing and contributing more to the net suffering of the world rather than alleviating some of it.
I don't know yet, this early on, if that will change, and God will provide some great grace from this messiness that I am an accomplice of.
This will likely not make much sense to many of you, and I'd likely spend years trying to explain it, and I highly doubt even my travelling companion would bother to get it. We shall see if God's great grace comes shining through, or if He chooses to withhold redemption at this point.

Haiti IV

Faith is one of those funny things; it is so nebulous and unexplainable sometimes that it's overwhelming, sometimes so incredible and preposterous in light of what reality seems to demonstrate. I think faith is definitely a gift, but also sometimes a gullible naivete. I wonder why, when I look at the Bride, so gawdy, so fat and greedy and ugly, unmerciful and unjust, how I can continue to doggedly follow the carpenter from Nazareth? I am not sure most days.
This is not some pathetic cross-cultural shock of some sort, but in considering how to go forward, how to press on towards the goal, how to proclaim the Kingdom's coming, it begs the question: how does one follow the man of Galilee, the King and crucified One?