I read from The Poisonwood Bible this afternoon. It’s the story of a missionary family in the Congo in the 1960s. In some ways, we’re as far from that story as you are in the United States—no hauling water from the river, no exotic and dangerous animals, no tribal languages, no naked people (except the fishermen on the beach). In other ways, I identify with the characters deeply.

As I write, I hear a steady drum beat and the mournful chanting I assume has to do with the end of the Señor de los Milagros (Lord of the Miracles) month. One month of rituals and devotions aimed at getting miracles out of God, and many I assume are left with the same physical handicaps, economic nightmares, and spiritual emptiness.

Who is this lord, and where are his miracles? I suppose our neighbors will go back to “passing the egg” or the crumpled up newspaper over sick loved ones in the hopes that the bad spirits will take up new residence. They pay their witch doctors absurd sums of money to give them advice on how to win back unfaithful lovers. They burn fat candles to wooden saint figurines in corners of their living rooms. There are no miracles. Only pain and confusion.

No, this cross-cultural adventure doesn’t feel so very removed than the one I’m reading about. Crossing cultures is a theme I identify with, if not the specific challenges. Feeling out of place, missing the comforts of home, loneliness, being surrounded by a people whose traditions and superstitions seem so odd to me. I understand their language, but I don’t understand the assumptions and experiences that prompt their words.

We came here believing that people are all the same deep down and that we could identify with and minister to the needs of this community. When it comes to the essential message of the gospel, I think I believe that more completely today than I did one year ago. In terms of relating to people on the other hand-- loving, understanding, being understood—our experience is rewriting the theories we invented from our kitchen in Charlotte on rainy afternoons.

2 comments

1. Edwin Smith on October 31, 2008 at 10:06 AM

   Hey, Hannah and Tim!
   
   I know we only officially met for about three days, but I found your blog just now through Kyle's.
   
   I've been looking through your old posts, and I can't help but praising God for the way that He has been using you in that little town. It may not feel like world-changing there, but from here in Colorado, I know that God is moving mountains through you. Now that I have some information on you, I'll be praying for the ministry there.
   
   Tim, are you going to be following Kyle's new fashion style? Is that the new look there in Peru?

    
2. Anonymous on October 31, 2008 at 10:59 AM

   You know, some days it doesn't feel that different in Greensboro, NC. I know their language, but I don't understand the assumptions and experiences that prompt their words. Actually, I do believe people are all the same deep down. We are all children of God and when I put my focus in Him the ground feels more solid and I feel more certain of where to step next.