Aram in Kenya

Something to think about

2012-01-12T12:03:00.000+03:00

Every now and again, wondering why we bother doing things in Africa, I need to see some charts like the ones below. So here is the income of some countries near us.

Now, here they are next to the largest middle-income countries.

And, the same information, but with infant mortality over time.

It's easy to underestimate how poor is poor. Many people think in terms of "the west and the rest" or the high-income economies and everybody else. But there is a huge, huge difference between a middle income country like Costa Rica or Thailand, and this part of the world, and it will show on any indicator you look at.

From the perspective of faith and religion, another misconception is that Africa is "reached",
or "Christian." While Christianity has made huge strides in our area, the Joshua Project still lists the following numbers of unreached groups.
Kenya 37
Tanzania 38
South Sudan 15
Sudan 127
Ethiopia 31
Somalia 17

Most of these groups will probably be reached by other Africans, rather than foreigners like me. Chinese business people will probably do more for income growth in Kenya than development agencies will. But we can all recognize that other human beings, created in God's image, are living with enormous challenges.

Here we still live in a time of great need and opportunity for the human race. It's still time to stay engaged, give our meager offering, and walk in solidarity with the heroes of a new Africa.

Testimony

2011-12-20T15:09:00.003+03:00

I remember how we held hands in the dark, tears draining onto our pillows. The murder of a friend, our work on the verge of collapse, scarcity crying out in the streets, enough adrenaline and determination to make it until 11 am every morning.

I remember when we got back in the US, everything was easy. We woke up from a jet-lag induced coma to the smell of freshly cut grass, with peaches, apples and grapes to pick just outside the door. We ate, and slept, and wept.

I remember that after weeks of this, I was still tired. And tired of everything. My bitterness showed through, I’m afraid, and energy still wasn’t enough. The valley of death is never far from human experience. Every time I relaxed another muscle, I was flooded with pain and exhaustion.

But I remember playing with the kids beside a creek in Kidron, as my wife walked 2 doors up from Lehman’s Hardware to a cousin’s house. I stretched out on the patch of ground beside the hitching post, and a Voice reminded me: “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.”

I remember standing in the Ohio apple orchard, windrows of apples under each row of trees. “Don’t take the ones off the ground, they might have aflatoxins.” Each crip bite rings true. The sunshine itself mocks poverty.

I remember the doctor asked if I had seen Pay it Forward. “That’s the life you are living right now, and I respect that a lot. This consultation is free.” He walked away.

My friend asked, “have you had someone pray with you since you got back?” “No, maybe when we come over to your place tonight.” “Dude, you’re going to get slammed.” And we did. They prayed with us until 1 in the morning, then by 6 am, we were on the road again, and my friend off work. But something had changed.

I remember the phone calls, the offhand comments as we stood to walk out the door: “We want to support you guys.” Or sometimes, the numbers just show up on the spreadsheet. A church member, a Sunday School class, a retired missionary on Social Security, an agnostic.

I remember running through a pasture in sweet Texas Indian Summer as air grew cool and the sun settled behind a bed of brilliance; the ground rolled under my feet, the glory of the Lord shone round about me. Peace on earth, good will towards men.
I remember telling Debbi: “I think I’m back.”

I’m back, but not as Missionator. I’m back with open hands, peaceful and strong. Now that I’m back, I remember what it is like to be anticipate the alarm, waiting for the good things of a new day.

Now that I’m back, I remember the flexibility of walking through cultures every time the door turns on its hinges; I remember the needs and hopes of desperate beggars, industrious employees, aggressive vendors, and my own soul, for we are all harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd, restless, until we find our rest in Thee.

Fugue of Nations

2011-08-28T09:02:00.004+03:00

Love is not a victory march, but it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.” –Leonard Cohen

In a few hours I will board a plane for a 3 month trip to my passport country. During those 3 months, I will complete one full year in my new position as Country Director (for 3 countries).

During this first year, we have visited many cycles of ambition and defeat. Perhaps Mark Twain’s dictum that while “history does not repeat itself, it rhymes,” is the best description of our accomplishments.

To wit: During the past year,
4 adults of the traditional EMM team have completed their terms and returned home permanently. They have been replaced by 2 adults, both with non-traditional connections to EMM. One works with another organization, the other is sent by another organization but graciously chooses to work with EMM.
We closed our (EMM + MCC) regional office of 30-some years and I hired a part time EMM office manager, who graciously and competently serves on a volunteer's stipend.
We aggressively courted 3 potential families, none of whom have come to the field.
We raised our guest house rates to cover increased costs and subsidize our program, and the shilling immediately began a 6 month decline, losing 15% of its value against the dollar. Costs rise concomitantly.
My aggressive effort to review and triage current program has not dislodged a single initiative. Budget cuts nonetheless continue, reducing effectiveness.
If you skipped through those details, just note this. Through relentless travel, correspondence, sycophancy, negotiation, planning, and marketing, we have completed another year, and it seems, little else. Next year promises to be . . . . another year.

Or are things finally looking up?
• We have strong relationships with 6 significant church bodies and more opportunities than ever before for leverage and impact in the region.
• After 3 and a half years on the field, we finally have an accurate understanding of the mandate for our organization and, personally, the capacity and credibility to pursue it.
• We have weathered a major leadership crisis at Rosslyn Academy where I serve on the board, and positive growth is once again on the horizon.
• A promising young intern arrives next month and another couple is seriously considering long-term work.
• We are developing a proposal to use our Nairobi property to generate significant income over the next several years which would jump-start our programs and radically extend our reach.
• We are increasingly depending on partnerships with local churches and organizations, and these relationships are blossoming in ways that would never have been possible when we had a larger organization on the ground.

So which is it? Half full, half empty, or just halfway through the meal just like yesterday? As always, our minds search for a moral to the story, a myth that tells us how this story is supposed to end. The problem is, we don’t know which one to use.

For now, I’ll refrain from narrative moralizing and just note, quite factually, that “sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes the bear eats you.”

I’ll pack a couple changes of clothes (the least faded I can find) and get on the plane for a long, reflective journey “home.” If I do need a quote, I’ll go with the former Governor of California, in a former life.

“I’ll be back.”

The Sea

2011-05-03T16:21:00.004+03:00

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance . . . . I hope you dance

--Lee Ann Womack

There is nothing like the sea which can spur contemplation, and force finitude and infinity into precious contact. The shock makes us want to turn away, but if we gaze long enough into the depths, I think it pushes some of the infinity into our soul. We need that.

I have come to believe that “I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,” is actually quite a good measure of mental health. If you spend 20 minutes watching waves crash against the beach, watching the white strand over the reef charge frothily up and down, watching the line of the sky blending shades of gray, green, and blue, and nothing stirs inside you, something is seriously wrong.

The effect of the sea is fast, and also thorough, and also constantly deepening. If the waves are lost in repetition, the tides steadily mark the progression of each day. And the variations of each ebb and rise, each sunset and dawn, each storm and clear cool breeze, captivates endlessly. So time stretches out upon time, and space forces itself into the orifices of our souls, like a shot of cortisone into a failed joint.

We have come to the sea.

We have come to mourn, to listen, and to care. Death, like the sea but more dramatically, joins finitude with infinity, and we stand to gain from the shock if we can resist the urge to turn away. We have witnessed a death that can change us forever; it can make us leave this place; it can leave a bitter taste that no amount of life can wash away. But it can also deepen and cleanse and sharpen.

Grieving comes in spurts, and daily the space we open is filled with fresh pain and longing. A song, a memory, a word without thinking awakens the images of destruction ad loss. Then the wave sinks back into the sea and the ordinary again prevails.

The images—even when they are brief--surprise and distress us. We don’t know what they are supposed to do. We are not sure what will change, but then, we never know what death, or time, or the sea will change. Evil, like a knife, comes quickly: healing, slowly. But it comes, and we will wait for it.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil, for you are with me

Your rod and staff comfort me

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

--Psalm 23

The First 100 Days

2011-02-06T12:29:00.002+03:00

The first 100 Days

“The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true.” --Galadriel

Well, it’s actually been more than 100 days in our new position. Or possibly less, depending how you count it.

Officially, October 1 we took on the job of overseeing EMM’s work in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda. But Wes and Lois Boyer were around until Christmas Eve to prop up our elbows as we learned how to handle the rigging.

Taking over, we were faced with:
• Drastic budget cuts for 2011, (more promised for 2012)
• A disappearing team—we would be alone by June
• Transition from Clair’s long leadership to a TBA interim supervisor
• Time-and-a-half (combining Debbi and I), filling positions which were just a few years ago carried by at least 4 very capable full-time missionaries (just for Kenya’s program!)
• A cadre of historical mission programs in need of review

As I write this, Galadriel’s words still apply: (and that’s not in the Bible, in case you are wondering.)

Nonetheless, it is time to humbly and gratefully celebrate:
• An excellent working relationship with Jewel Showalter, our interim supervisor
• Strong commitment from some North American churches to continue work with an unreached group in the region
• New members on the team, and serious conversations with other candidates
• A plan in place (not approved, but favored) to create a long-term funding stream by expanding MGH
• A multi-national management team at MGH

Last Friday, as we were winding down the day I told Debbi: “For the first time in 2 years, I actually feel like we might survive.”

“You mean EMM’s program in East Africa, or us personally?”

“Both.”

We thank God, the EMM team, and our communities on both sides of the ocean for helping to make this turnaround possible. We are not out of the woods yet, but it feels like we are back on the path. Thanks for your prayers and support!

New Dining Room

2011-01-21T12:48:00.004+03:00

Our guests are dining in exile this month, in a rustic tent in the parking lot. They are of course surrounded by flowers, (we erected the tent with one flower bed inside) potted plants, flowing cloth drapes, and mood lighting, causing some to question if we even need a new dining room. "Why not just eat in a tent all the time?"

Well, we have needed this for a long time. But I think we will start letting guests eat out on the new veranda, where we hope to have seating for up to 35 people.

But that will be a few more weeks. This crane is not the fastest way I've seen to lift large roof beams. But, as our architect says, "It's amazing how often it works without any major damage!"

Motorcycle ride!

2011-01-02T11:48:00.004+03:00

New Year's was my lucky day.

For my Christmas present Debbi sent me on a bike trip, arranged by my friend Ben Leeds. Ben is finishing his term with MS-Kenya (development organization) and just imported a Honda Transalp 650 for a Nairobi-Copenhagen bike trip. Check out his trip here

It was my incredible good fortune that Ben's friend loaned him (and I drove) a KTM 640cc off-roader. That is a bad machine! Tall, light, tons of torque, and amazing stability on rough roads. (A bit much vibration on tarmac--especially once you hit 120 kph!)

It also has only a 9 liter tank, which left us stranded halfway back from Magadi, in the midst of gorgeous, rugged African beauty.

Which gave my wife second thoughts about me having such experiences. Guess she'll have to come along next time!

Leaving On a Jet Plane

2010-12-10T16:28:00.004+03:00

Actually, on a turboprop puddle jumper. This morning I was up at 4:45 am to get on a 45 minute flight to Kisumu in Western Kenya. I spent the day there with the pastors and deacons of Kenya Mennonite Church: greeting people, discussing EMM’s relationship with Kenyan Mennonites, and taking communion together.

In one day I have managed to travel by taxi, plane, tuk-tuk (like a riding lawnmower taxi) by foot, motorcycle, and now safari van! I have to say domestic flights are a LOT easier here—2 hours door to door! Except that now I’m in traffic on the way back from the airport.

Why would I do this? Is it worth the bother? What do I hope to accomplish? Was it worth learning Swahili to sit in meetings where people sweat in clerical collars?

Africa will be reached and discipled by Africans, and perhaps by teams comprising Africans, Paraguayans, and Australians. And (I am convinced) Africa will define Christianity for the next several hundred years. Whether or not we as North American Mennonites get in the holy salsa has largely to do with whether or not we leave for airports or switch on our Land Rovers at 5 am some mornings.

So we do it. Even though the coffee outside Nairobi is well nigh undrinkable.

Building at MGH (again)

2010-11-25T16:24:00.004+03:00

My wife accuses me of being addicted to building projects.

I'll admit I do enjoy it. When I realized that our building permit (which took 2 years to get approved) was expiring, and we had the money available to build, I jumped at the chance. The roof and floor of the existing dining needed to be replaced anyway.

This latest addition is an approximately 7m by 7m additional room on the dining and a 3.5m by 12m veranda, all under one large, graceful roof. This will give us plenty of space during busy times, a meeting room other times (it will even have a fireplace).

It will be gorgeous, I promise. Come and visit!

The Adaptability of the Human Body: How LSD Changed my Life

2010-11-03T18:11:00.006+03:00

A busy month in the office, followed by one week holiday in the Netherlands, had taken its toll. Sausage, cheese, and bread from morning to late at night, leisurely conversations and more leisurely walks. I stepped on a scales and was 10 pounds above normal. I went for a run, and only made it 15 minutes. Below sea level. What is wrong with me?

That was less than six months ago. On Sunday I ran a marathon at over 5,000 feet elevation, with a few extra kilometers thrown in by an unfortunate wrong turn.

It turns out that our bodies are very, very flexible. Like most of life, we get very good at whatever we tell ourselves to get good at. This is what I learned:

1. Gradual progress. I improved as slowly as possible, in increments of, say 5 to 10% per week. Think about it: let’s say you are not in great shape and get winded after a 10 minute walk. But if you do that 10 minutes religiously 3-4 times this week, probably next week you can make it 11 minutes. Over time you will get more relaxed, lighter, stronger, better endurance and the tiny improvements become a snowball rolling downhill.

2. Focus and consistency. Humans always overestimate what they can do in a day, and underestimate what they can do in a year. A habit only takes 4-6 weeks to form, and bribes work great, even on retarded little mice. Know your goals, make progress a habit, and you are unstoppable.

3. LSD. I was never able to run for more than an hour, even when I was 20. Turns out I just needed to know about few things, like: get rid of that ridiculous foot slap in my gait, eat and drink while I run, and--LSD. By that I mean (of course!) the Long, Slow, Distance run. It’s amazing what a little information can do. Find it!

Yes, we do all have limits, genetic or otherwise. But most of us don’t ever get near them, for reasons that are amazingly trivial. If I can go from 2k to over 42k in 6 months, I wonder what I am capable of in other areas? Anybody know how I could do that with my income?

Talking in Tanzania

2010-10-20T21:02:00.005+03:00

Three and a half days. 18 hours driving. Meetings. Border officials. Warm soda.

Not my idea of a good time, but this was actually a very productive weekend meeting with the Tanzanian Mennonite Church leaders and several of the donors who support their projects.

It all started somewhere on the shores of lake Victoria, with a water pump, vegetables and a typical food security project. A great collaborative effort with a Mennonite Church, except that the same church was collaborating with another donor to do an almost identical project some 500 meters away.

"Honey, we need to talk."

The good news is: Mennonite Churches want to help Mennonite Churches serve their communities and the poor. The bad news is--we aren't talking to each other.

So we talked: Eastern Mennonite Missions, Mennonite Central Committee, Wereld Werk (Dutch Mennos) and Hilfswerk (German) all met in one room with representatives of KMT.

It was a great time of collaborative thinking, listening to each other and asking questions. What projects are you sponsoring? What are the church's priorities? What are the donor priorities? What kind of reporting structure should we use?

We learned that both the Tanzanian Mennonites and the global Mennonite family can improve a lot on our communication with each other. The potential benefit is huge in terms of assisting the churches, blessing their communities, and strengthening our witness as a global, unified body of Christ.

Suffering and Sheer Joy

2010-07-28T17:22:00.002+03:00

I was recently told that even in full-time ministry, we should only expect 20% of our work to be sheer existential joy, whereas 80% of the time we are doing the right thing, being faithful, and perspiring. That sounds like good advice, especially in a cultural context where we put so much emphasis on self-actualization: on finding a job that will make you happy, having a spouse that you are always excited about, and choosing hobbies that complement your lifestyle.

I have found an added twist, however, as someone who has taken a moderate amount of risk in living outside of the Developed Western World, a four hour flight from the nearest department store. I don’t like my little privations; I miss terribly the comfortable middle class life I have left behind. It bothers me that I don’t have certain things in Africa, and then it bothers me even more that it bothers me. So why do it? It is where I am supposed to be right now, serving the church in Africa and helping others discover the reign of God. That means I don’t have air conditioning and whole wheat-spinach-pesto-chicken wraps sometimes.

Moving away, out of The West is just one example of a way that I have “raised” instead of “passing” on the challenges of Jesus (play poker and you’ll understand). You could probably give me more and better examples from your own life, whether or not you have ever left your home country. When we step out in faith, we may very well add some discomfort or suffering to our lives.

Does obedience change the pure joy/perspiration ratio? Well, being obedient to God won’t destroy your life. If stepping out in faith takes away the 20% sheer joy aspect of your life, then chances are you are missing something. But don’t expect it to take away the 80% perspiration part either.

Jesus said if we left our houses and brothers we would get 100 times more of them, along with tribulations. Sounds a bit hyperbolic but I think I’m starting to get the point. Faith puts you in the washing machine of abundance and lack, joy and sorrow, excitement and discomfort, and disrupts your life in a very holy way. Put in mathematical terms, it goes like this: obedience adds 10% discomfort and suffering that your life, but adds another 10% sheer joy, and raises the quality of the remaining 60% perspiration. That’s how it has worked on me.

Any takers? Want to try that next step and see where it takes you?

Well, with no suffering at all you can see my beautiful wife and kids at Gedi, a 1000-year-old Swahili city on the coast of Kenya

Coffee in the Rain

2010-05-01T17:36:00.003+03:00

The rain falls interminably; the landscaping projects continue more muddily. I'm sipping Kenyan coffee on my porch gazing at my yard--a gorgeous hybrid of an English tea garden and an African jungle. Even my UN-employed friends with salaries 5 times mine can't match the grace of a property tended for 45 years by exiled Mennonite gardeners and bored but creative Luhya farmers.

Debbi and I are taking a half Saturday again: I work most of the morning, she works most of the afternoon, with a long break in the middle for a family activity. Not ideal, but this is crunch time for almost everything. It is May now, and after 9 months of active building, our new addition to the MGH is finished. It is beautiful, functional, and alive: a 50% increase in guests and income, new staff schedules to go live on Monday, and other construction still ongoing.

If that weren't enough, several other things are clamoring for time and brain space: Debbi is teaching her second class at NEGST, Rosslyn Board is in crisis and demanding as much as 2 days a week (very, very draining days) instead of 1 day a month, the greenhouse/farming project just started selling: tomatoes are going like the proverbial hotcakes (due to the rain) and the lettuce is completely un-marketable (due to the rain) You can't win every time.

In just over 4 weeks we get on a plane back to the US: with a week in Netherlands in between to cool our jets. Not that we'll need it. In the meantime, here is my advise to myself:
1. Prayer and exercise are the only guaranteed productive uses of time.
2. Eat protein.
3. Smile big. No crisis is mitigated by frowning.
4. Do first whatever you feel to avoid.

Rain has stopped, kids are up from their naps. It's time for some mutual entertainment--which will most likely include mud. Sounds like a good way to end a Saturday afternoon.

Check it out

2010-01-17T21:46:00.002+03:00

Hi folks
I only publish blogs occasionally, and good ones only very occasionally, so this week I would like you to visit another. My brother Isaac is here with us for several months, and he is doing a much better job of documenting our lives than I could ever hope to. And he's a great photographer so check it out at Isaac in Kenya. Over and out!

December photo report

2010-01-01T12:42:00.005+03:00

Greetings everyone

December has been a very busy month for us. The biggest event was of course Clair (EMM-Africa Director) and Glenn's (Clair's boss) visit, which included many productive meetings, a trip to western Kenya, and a retreat near lake Naivasha.

Just after the retreat, Clair, Glenn, and the rest of EMM-Kenya left the country. We celebrated Christmas with Debbi's aunt Diane and her family.

We've also been pursuing quite a few projects at the guest house. The building project continues nearly on schedule, although the visible progress is slowing as the workers focus on plaster and woodwork.

Since the rains have been good we are also working hard at landscaping: removing a bunch of building debris from previous projects, adding about a hundred tons of extra dirt in the low spot by the road, replanting a large section of grass, and adding some flower beds.

We also did major tree trimming--removing large lower branches which are becoming unhealthy as the branches above crowd out light. The yard looks so much more open.

And finally, we are digging a BIG (100,000 liter) water storage tank to insulate us from city water's unpredictability. It is even large enough to harvest rainwater if I can work out the plumbing.

Omondi's greenhouse project is also going very well. We finished the structure, installed the drip irrigation, and fumigated the soil. Now we are preparing some outdoor beds while we wait to plant in mid-January.

And, last but not least, we celebrated our 7th and best year of marriage on 28th December. Actually, we didn't really celebrate yet but we are savoring plans to do so. The star of the show, as always . . . .

I Want More Money

2009-12-21T15:20:00.005+03:00

In all my preparations for cross-cultural living, I never anticipated that I would find my standard of living inadequate. After all, my budget is as large as that of several rural villages. If anything, I expected to (and do) chafe against all the Western junk that I'm still into: internal combustion engines, books, laptops, and car seats (although I guess it mostly comes from Asia now).

So imagine my surprise when I catch myself thinking I don’t have enough money. Yes, Santa, I would like to

1. Eat bacon with my eggs
2. Take a course at a university once or twice a year to keep my mind sharp
3. Take my family camping out of town on weekends
5. Buy cheese that doesn’t smell like puke

Bad, BAD missionary. How is it possible to feel poor when I have a full-time gardener and a full-time house helper? Is this culture shock? Am I just missing home, so I think money would fix my homesickness?

I have two explanations, the first being that the life I am used to is simply not available in Kenya at the prices I am used to. Some examples:
1. Affordable food (beyond staples) doesn’t exist. (A bottle of ranch dressing is $4.00).
2. Affordable recreation and leisure activities almost don’t exist. Kenya has no free libraries, no free museums, no public concerts.
3. Private transportation is outlandishly expensive (driving a car to the coast and back—300 miles each way—would cost me $400.) Public transport is outlandishly slow and dangerous. Take your pick.
4. Even information is costly(books are about 50% more than in the states, internet 300% to 500% more), and a university course--add an international plane ticket.

Like it or not, I am still a Western consumer with a complicated needs and (relatively) sophisticated tastes. That brings me to the second explanation for my perceived deprivation. I have discovered a new reference group: other expatriates with approximately my intelligence, education, and motivation—and they make a LOT more money than I do. I recently saw some research that the average American company spends $325,000 per year to keep an employee overseas. The kinds of cars my friends drive would confirm the awkward fact: many expat (non-mission) workers make 4 of 5 times what Debbi and I do.

And I make at least 5 times what my employees do. Anyway, I think I’ll take my wife on a date. We’ll walk to a coffee shop around the corner, and each have a cup of tea. Then I’ll sit and write a teaching outside under a tree, while my friends in the west are laboring under 2 feet of snow. It is hard to feel too sorry for myself!

Polygamy and Musicals--Discussion with a Four Year Old

2009-11-28T16:40:00.002+03:00

Last night we watched the Sound of Music-Debbi of course rapturous with delight--her favorite childhood movie. We stopped just after the wedding to avoid the scary parts.
Afterwards, I asked, "Priska, did you like the movie?"

"That was a bad movie, daddy. Because first the man wanted to marry the old lady, but then he wanted to marry Maria."
"That’s how it is sometimes. You can love more than one person, but you have to choose before you get married. Because after you are married, you have to stay with who you marry." (Pretty good answer, I thought).
"Can you only marry one person?”
(Ok, this is getting a bit complicated. I forgot that some issues aren't as straighforward in a cross cultural context.)
“Well, in Africa, daddies sometimes marry more than one wife.”
"And we are in Africa so can we marry more than one person?"
"No, it's better to only marry one."
"Why is it better?
"Well, God says, er, since we are from America . . . . well it's just better. Like me for example, how many wives do I have?"
"You have four, no you have NINE wives!
Maybe we should work on our numbers before we tackle polygamy!

Why I love Administration

2009-11-03T17:35:00.002+03:00

What do you do? A popular question meaning—what is your employment?

“I’m a semi-pro athlete,” I say nonchalantly. “Do a lot of triathlons, but I also enjoy traveling and learning languages.”

No, really, “I am an administrator of a small hotel, catering to missionaries, development workers and their visitors.” Slightly more honest, but usually once people hear “administrator” they tune me out. Why the negative reaction? And, why do I still like my job?

First the ugly:
Administrators deal with papers, phone calls, and meetings. That means a lot of sitting on your toushe, (my spellchecker doesn’t like that word either) and fiddling with digital devices. BOORING.

Administrators dress up and go to the office. They come home. “What did you do today, honey? Administrators don’t DO anything. They don’t swing hammers, counsel clients, preach sermons, or drive Land Rovers through rivers and up cliffs. BOORING, again.

Error management. Administrators, by definition, are responsible for the mistakes of a number of people, mostly with lower skill level than them.

Over-busyness. Many administrators are overworked, and many others are not skilled enough at delegating and filtering their tasks. So we get saddled with minutiae which exhaust us and render us ineffective.

Nonetheless, a few things make administration the best job in the world--For me.

Leverage. Administrators can leverage the assets, time, skills and even money of other people. If I am a technician, even a highly skilled one, one person is getting my job done. But if I have a clear sense of direction and calling, why not have 20 people or 2,000 people working on that same task? An administrator contributes substantially to the things important to him/her by coordinating the effort of many. I find that fulfilling.

Lots of moving parts. Everyone thrives on a different level of complexity and chaos, just like every engine produces its maximum torque at a different speed. As an administrator, there are usually enough issues to keep me at optimal RPM’s. That means I can produce and enjoy more, even at work.

Control over the means. If I am a technician, then my supervisors have a great deal of control over whether or not I am able to do a good job. But, again if I have a clear sense of direction, why not move into a position where more control falls into my hands?

Beware: Most people take on too much of the wrong kind of work. But a lot of others, people with a strong skills or passion in a particular area, could contribute more by stepping into administrative roles. That’s when we can become true leaders—not harried Blackberry toters!

Finally!

2009-08-21T18:30:00.005+03:00

After many delays, and several versions of the plan for guesthouse expansion, starting 2 managers ago many applications lost in City Hall, we have finally gotten THE STAMP that says we are ready to build. The red rectangle is the new building.

As you might be able to see, there are 4 double rooms (the smaller, rectangular trenches on the inside) with a generous veranda all around (the perimeter trench). As I climbed up some rickety scaffolding to take this picture, Shadrack says "Daddy, don't fall."

Despite many concerns by the guests that we will ruin "their" guesthouse, the environmental impact study indicates only minor disruptions in Hubert Siefert's evening migrations. From the veranda where the guests drink tea, this is all you see.

So in about 6 months, we should have another 8 double rooms, increasing our capacity by 50%.
This will allow us to meet the needs of more guests, as well as hopefully produce some income which will fund mission work here in Africa.

On another note, here is my birthday present for Debbi, a triumph of marital communication.

For her birthday, she got to sleep in, we went out for lunch, we went on a family outing then she got a message. She was very happy but a couple of days later she asked me: "Did you get me a birthday present yet?"
I thought for a minute and said, "Uh, no, I guess not." Feeling rather dumb after all that I had remembered to do, but wondering whether maybe the massage would count.

"Because I was wanting one of those trees to hang my necklaces on."
"Oh," I said, "I did get you a birthday present!" And I had, about a month ago, bought this thing, with NO prompting from her, and of course forgotten all about it.
Wish I could be that prescient every day!

Dead and Buried in Kenya

2009-08-13T10:56:00.003+03:00

“Bevon, Bevon, Bevon. We call to you and God calls to you. Blessing, Blessing, Blessing. We call to you and God calls to you.”

Bevon was 11 years old, Blessing only 8 months, when a station wagon lost control and struck them as they waited on the side of the main road that goes by our house. Patrick, their father, watched as they were hit, flew through the air, and landed, broken, at his feet. A third child is still in the hospital.

Drums ring out—2 large ones about 3 feet in diameter, and some smaller ones. And the dancing, and rhythmic, repetitive singing continues for several minutes before being interrupted.

“We will now put them into this ground. This indeed is their place. This is the place their mother was born. This is the place that they would have built; this indeed is their homestead."

And with those few words, the pastor smoothes over a second horror—the father of the deceased did not have his own plot, and children are always buried on their father’s property. In this case, Patrick has no choice but his mother-in-law’s homestead. A shame, but the mother’s community will accept these children onto their own ancestral land.

The funeral is drawing too a close—or so I suspect. Another prayer. “You are received into heaven, and Satan’s schemes are defeated.” “May he be defeated!” The crowd echoes this phrase loudly whenever Satan is mentioned, which happens fairly often.

The drumming begins again, and the dancing.

I am here to represent Eastern Mennonite Missions, my and Patrick’s employer, about 9 hours drive away from our homes in Nairobi. Showing support at the time of death is very important here, and about 500 people are here today, standing for several hours in the equatorial sun, tramping down maize and millet to get a good view of the proceedings.

The drumming stops again, and this time the first coffin is lowered. I squeeze close to someone in front of me and surreptitiously steal some shade from their umbrella for my rapidly reddening face.

More drumming. Another prayer. The second coffin is lowered. The father’s face is contorted as though still trying to contain that first scream of horror at seeing his children die. The mother stares straight ahead, with blank pain, as though she has just been shot in the heart and is waiting in that long second to slump to the ground in merciful death.

“Kwaherini, kwaherini, kwaherini.” Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

White-robed pall-bearers remove the ropes; youths and men replace the dirt with an efficient movement of shovels and djembe (large hoes); drums beat and another song rings out. The young people are dancing vigorously around the 2 small mounds of dirt, their sandaled feet inches from where the holes were moments ago, pounding the dirt down into the ground just like the rain will do over the next months.

The singing goes on for some time, although with the hypnotic effect of the drumming, chanting, and dehydration it is impossible to say how long. “Praises of saying goodbye,” I am told.

No markers on these graves, in the back yard of the main house belonging to the children’s grandmother. Nothing carved in marble, not even a wooden cross. The ground itself carries the memory for the grandchildren, as it did for the grandparents who are also buried around this same plot.

The maize and millet will grow up over these graves, feeding the community’s grandchildren, just as it did their great-great-grandparents. The ground itself carries the memory of both life and death, just as it has done since the day after the beginning of time.

This indeed is their place, this is their homestead.

Kwaherini, kwaherini, kwaherini.

Another Trip

2009-08-02T12:24:00.002+03:00

Right now I don't have any pictures to upload, which is a shame because I have been in quite a few picturesque places this week.

I could put pictures of Mt. Kenya from the air in the early morning, on Tuesday when I flew up to Kitale.

I could put pictures of the church we worked on all week, with a team from the US and a very excited local pastor with his 10 children, or the view of Mt. Elgon (2nd highest in Kenya) from the 4th floor balcony of our hotel.

I could put pictures of the 3 funerals I went to. The first was by accident, as I was at the wrong place but didn't figure that out before I had greeted the family, given them my condolences and some tea leaves. Only then did I learn that their son had been brutally killed and his body burned once the community found out he was involved in a string of armed robberies. The other 2 were for children of our staff who happened to die around the same time.

The scenery on the way down from Kitale to Kisumu was amazing, too, but mostly variations of "huts on hills in cornfields." We did go through some really nice forest though, close to the rainforest reserve at Kakamega.

Now I'm sitting in a rather warm internet cafe in Kisumu, by lake Victoria, working on a teaching for a Mennonite Conference tomorrow. It will be a tough job, but I'm excited about the chance to talk with the top leaders in KMC about their development priorities.

Mostly, I'd love to post some pictures of my family, whom I miss terribly. As much as I love traveling, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep doing this. Priska keeps calling me on the phone to say she misses, me, and Shadrack kissed the phone last night after he hung up. Sweet little darlings.
Next time I'll take my camera!

Peace and Problems

2009-06-21T09:14:00.004+03:00

The problem was not so much the bed, as the mattress. Or should I say mattresses, because they gave us two of them. Each one was about 3 inches thick on the edges and ½ inch thick in the middle. I could tell as soon as I lay down, that the boards holding the mattresses were about 4 inches apart. The pillow, well “scary beyond all description” might help you imagine.

Priska and I were visiting Chepilat, a small (tribal) border town hit hard by the ethnic clashes last year, and where EMM is helping a Kenyan Mennonite missionary to plant a church and do peacemaking. It was a wonderful time to see what God is doing in that part of the country. People are coming together from all denominations and tribes to repent their part in the violence and work for peace.

Peace, however, was in short supply in the Baroda Hotel.

The problem was not so much that the bar/nightclub was in the same building, but that it was on the other side of only 3 inches of concrete. And, I think they must have put speakers in our room so we didn’t miss the fun. I explained to Priska it’s just like we listen to music before we go to bed. But some other people like to listen to REALLY LOUD music when they are going to bed. That’s kind of silly, isn’t it.

Next morning. The problem was not the motorbike. Sure it was only 125 cc’s, but that is about as big a bike as you can get in Kenya. Of course it didn’t help that there was another guy on the back, nor that I hadn’t driven a motorcycle for several months. It was definitely the road—or lack thereof—that made this little excursion difficult.

Very steep, up, up, up, over rocks and gullies and finally onto a foot path. A few times my passenger (the owner of a bike) got off to walk up a steep part or chase cows off the road so we could pass. Finally we parked the bike and after no more than five minutes walk we came to the “church”—a two room mud house with a bed for the pastor on one side a fire on the floor in the other, and a crude wooden benches in between.

Nakitare, a single man, had planted a few churches in another part of the country, but felt called to start a church in this area. He wandered around for several weeks, then found an extended family who wanted to help him. Not long after, in April, Nakitare attended a pastor’s meeting planned by the YES team, and was very impressed by what the Mennonite church was doing to bring the tribes together. We shared roasted field corn and some tea that tasted more like smoke than tea, then down, down, down past the cows and rocks and spectacular views and tea fields to catch our bus for the long ride back.

Ah, the bus. I think the Nyamira Express is Kenya’s version of the bullet train. But the problem was not so much the bus, as the driver. Sure, there were five people across in each row, chickens on the floor, Priska in my lap, and just enough leg room for a hobbit. But I was mostly just annoyed by the driver's suicidal tendencies. Maybe he is working up his nerve to volunteer with Al-Qaeda. Or just is not afraid to die along with his 250 passengers or however many we were. He knew every bump on the way to Nairobi and hit it at just the right speed—so that your butt came of the seat exactly 3 inches. Every time.

There are lots of bumps on the road to Nairobi. But, speaking of problems, we are thankful we didn't have any like this.

Grateful Live

2009-06-02T21:14:00.004+03:00

May 4, Usa River , Tanzania

We spend all day in a classroom, unscrewing every component of the Swahili language, then analyzing and re-assembling, rehearsing and re-checking each step like an airplane mechanic.
nimepata,umepata,amepata,
tumepata, mmepata, wamepata

kupata, kupatia, kupatwa, kupatiwa,
kupatana, kupatikana, kupatanisha

But night is a different matter. Ours is the last of the cabins, just before the patch of jungle which still clings around the river.

At night, we waken to hoots and yelps and screams, a myriad of birds, monkeys and bugs in an arresting cacophony. In the morning a dozen or so colobus monkeys play and fight in the trees above, diving from the top branches into nothing, only to catch themselves with a crash in the foliage below. Storks preen themselves on another tree, looking as dignified as a fat man in Spandex climbing into a swimming pool. A sycamore tree deserves an entire book to be written about it—a couple dozen feet around, foliage spreading over a tenth of an acre, a host to birds, monkeys, plants, other trees, moss, lichens, and God knows what snakes and dudus (bugs).

And last weekend, as we were driving back from a long, cloudy day down on the skirts of Kilimanjaro, just at sunset the clouds dropped down from the summit. We stuck our heads and cameras out the window and gawked, awkwardly at first, conscious of our role as tourists.
Then we realized that locals were looking too, pointing out the appearance to each other. We pulled off the road to revel, and people hooted their horns and gave us the thumbs up as they drove by. I guess awe is an appropriate response for tourists or for anyone else when Kilimanjaro peeks through.

But we are not tourists, really, and it makes a difference that we are not. East Africa is our place: we live here, we work here, and though we are not citizens, we somehow make it our own. We are not here to take pictures of the monkeys and the mountain and then move on to the next thing that thrills us. This is our life. And it does thrill us.

And here, and anywhere, we occasionally round the bend of the mundane and see with glad open eyes the fresh secrets of life. It is a gift, this moment of true vision which lets us see something about being alive.
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Oh, yeah, and this is Shadrack, so sick with malaria we can't keep him awake, just before we took him to the hospital.

KHARTOUM, December 31. (IPS)

2009-05-14T10:48:00.000+03:00

President Umar Hassan Ahmad al-Bashir announced a new aid package to the United States of America, a long-time ally in the war on terror. The new initiative aims to triple the number of subsistence farmers in the US by 2012.

Speaking on the eve of Sudan’s Independence day celebrations to be held all over the country, al-Bashir said Khartoum will add 140 billion Sudanese pounds (82.6 Billion Tunisian Dinar) for development efforts in the worlds largest economy.

"We intend this effort to eventually cover more than 175 million people in 35 or more states," he declared about the development initiative in a four-page speech to invited guests at the Acropoli hotel in Khartoum. "We want to reduce the damage inflicted on the continent of North America by large corporate farms and huge suburban development, and save hundreds of thousands of lives."

The agriculture campaign will initially target Virginia, Mississippi, Maine, Wyoming, California, and Rhode Island before expanding to include other states, he said, urging other donor countries and private foundations to join the effort.

About 30% of the money will go to importing hardy varieties of livestock from Sub-Saharan Africa to the Western US. Says a senior aid official in the Sudanese administration “One of the biggest challenges facing American “Cattle Ranchers,” as their pastoralists are called, is a lack of hardy cattle breeds which can live independently. Since killing off the American Buffalo, they have been left with imported stock in constant need of medication and grain for food. It is a tremendously costly and inefficient system. The wonderful thing about importing improved livestock is that it is a sustainable project: one camel begats another.”

Another 40 Billion will be spent on education, promoting the lifestyle of subsistence agriculture in secondary schools and providing expert information to extension agents. Sudanese aid workers feel that Americans need to embrace agriculture as a way of life. One young aid worker commented “These people need to see that just living in a city is not going to get them anywhere. They need finger millet, they need hoes, they need goats, they need to have ownership in what they are doing and be willing to sacrifice in order to have a life that is healthy for families and healthy for the environment.”

The remainder of the money will go for importing vehicles and for a new development office in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Reaction to the Al-Bashir’s announcements was mixed. Zimbabwe’s President Mugabe welcomed the speech as "an important and welcome step (that) creates real possibilities for the recovery of the economy in the United States. Now that we have someone we can trust in the White House, the prospects of geopolitical stability have returned. Now is the time to act in order to save lives and the environment in our most influential global neighbor.” Mugabe refused, however, to commit himself to offering similar aid along with Sudan.

Other observers were more circumspect. Some Africans are calling the effort “reverse colonialism.” Others are not optimistic about the outcomes. “Don’t get me wrong,” said a nomadic cattle farmer in Southern Sudan, who declined to be named, “there are some wonderful people in North America, and I’m not a racist. But those people over there can never learn to farm. Why should we give away our country’s oil wealth to help a bunch of @%-!* losers? Our money should stay with the people who rightfully stole it.”

Non-governmental organisations (NGOs) that have been pressing Al-Bashir to sharply increase aid for developed nations who are faced with a dwindling population of farmers and dangerous trends towards urbanization.

Al-Bashir depicted the new commitments as both an answer to conscience and "because our interests are directly at stake."

"September the 11th, 2001, the world found that instability and destruction in a distant country can bring more opportunity to our own," he said. "...We fight the war on terror with our own terror; we will win the war on terror with knowledge and freedom and cowpeas."

Crazy American Preacher

2009-04-04T10:46:00.007+03:00

“There was only one thing lacking from your worship service,” the guest pastor began his sermon.

Oh? Most Americans who visit here are moved to tears by the local expressions of worship. What did this man find to be missing?

“So everyone stand up again. If you want to see revival, we need to be expecting it, and get EXCITED! I want us to JUMP.”

Uh, did you miss the worship service just now?

“Now I, for one, want to see revival. Does anyone here care about revival? Say Amen. Say AMEN! I believe that America is ripe for a revival. I’m gonna tell you why. Because people in our great country are becoming poor again. Pretty soon we are going to be poor like the rest of the world.”

So Americans will only have two cars instead of three?

“People are losing their jobs right and left . . . . “

Kenya has 50% unemployment, yeah, we can connect with that.

“But I’m here to tell you that being poor is a blessing! Hallelujah! People in America are starting to turn to the Lord, ‘cause they haven’t got anywhere else to turn to.”

(Other than Social Security, Medicaid, Medicare, Unemployment, Disability, food stamps)

“Take me, for example: a year ago, I had a lot of money saved up for retirement in my Roth IRA and in stocks and bonds.”

Ok, first of all, most people here don’t survive to retirement. Those who do are supported by their children; they are the Retirement Account. Roth IRA’s don’t technically exist outside the US, and as for stocks . . . . Ok, nevermind, just try to find a different illustration.

“Now the DOW is under 7,000! Can you believe it! But I’m gonna tell you one thing, folks. There’s a little poem that’s been real inspiring for me. It goes like this: “The wave that intimidates an ordinary swimmer, thrills the heart of the surfer.”

The translator squints at the Preacher, and asks him to repeat himself. Then he nods, takes a deep breath and begins to translate: “Ok, so if you are at the coast, and you see a big . . . . what is our word for the big lump of water?” (the audience helps him find the uncommon word for wave.) “Yes, and you see a big wave coming in from the ocean. A normal person, seeing this big wave, would be afraid and run toward the dry ground so it does not drag them out into the sea. But then there is a certain type of sport where men like to play in the big waves with a certain type of lumber . . . . like a board, yes, a board. They somehow, I’m not sure, try to jump on it and to slide through the water as a wave rolls in from the ocean. They--I don’t know, it makes them happy, and they don’t drown. They somehow float on the top, like a boat or a tree or something. “

The preacher stared at the translator in awe. “Did I say all that? Maybe I should repeat: THE WAVE THAT . . . . “

You see, most of us come from semi-arid regions. We do not surf. We do not swim. Even the most fertile areas get almost no rain for several months at a time. Water is so scare during the dry season that we carry it for miles in buckets on our heads, and then use it multiple times (bathing, washing dishes, washing clothes) before we finally use it to water vegetable gardens.

Thanks for coming all this way from America to bless us with the word of God this Sunday.
This is a guest post by author Deborah DiGennaro

To My Wife

2009-03-14T17:14:00.011+03:00

A Saturday night in late August, it must have been, when I decided to marry you. We were ambling thoughtfully along, west from Rosedale Bible College, past where Leon used to live before he went to Albania, and Kevin and Wendy, before they went to Spain, past RMM and Troyer’s place, to where the road heads around that broad left curve before it wanders out towards Irwin. The darkness was warm and humid, and smelled of corn as it always does, everywhere around Plain City, Ohio. Stars shone, but no moon.

I had broken up with you two years before. More painful than violent, but it still took a year of ignoring each other between arguments before we had a civil conversation. The rare times we saw each other, we had a lot of catching up to do, with awkwardness and sense of twisted destiny second-guessing every sentence. That night, we hadn’t talked for a while, and you were irritated with me about something, so you didn’t notice I was immensely enjoying the situation.

Those were the days of LifeHouse, an offbeat half-Christian band which was considered cool in some of my cliques. We were slightly embarrassed by the pop-ish arrangements, but the lyrics told vague, chic narratives and kept their spirituality tantalizingly ambiguous. On that particular dark walk, in some pause in the conversation, I was half-singing,
“And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you?
Please tell me, how could it be any better than this?”
I realized what I was saying, caught my breath, and stopped singing the tattle-tale tune. Stopped everything, and then started breathing again as normally as possible, hoping you hadn’t caught my Freudian self-disclosure.

You missed it, but it was already over. I had decided. I was yours.

Now, almost 8 years later, I still am. Oh, yes, we have fought about everything: our careers, our money, how many kids, where to travel, and whether or not to take dumpster-dived food to potlucks. We have both had crushes on some of our friends, and teased each other about it. You have hurt me bitterly at times, and I you. There have been some dark nights I have stood outside and growled at the stars and rued the twinkle in their eyes.

But we have always talked, not shouted; we have always come back, and growled and laughed and continued. We have always been best friends, always wanted to be together. Always.

I can’t stay up late anymore, hardly ever; besides, very few things are more enticing than drifting out of consciousness together with our legs tangled together like happy kittens.

On dark nights these days, we throw a mattress under the stars and gaze up like little children, chattering to each other as mindlessly as one talks to oneself in a daydream. When we talk, and even when we argue, it feels like an inner dialogue, different parts of the same mind conversing.

Let's be friends for a long long time.

I want to be with you, now and for the rest of my life
To live and die, here by your side
I know we'll have some grief
But right now I promise
that I mean to stay here
I want to be with you.

Psychotic!

2009-03-11T17:12:00.004+03:00

Wednesday afternoon, 4 pm. I was lifting weights—halfway through my second set of deadlifts, if I remember correctly. I had been noticing my breathing was a bit different, but wasn’t too concerned. Different athletic traditions, some thousands of years old, have different theories on breathing. So I decided to flow with it and see where it took me.

Then I began daydreaming. Really dreaming.

In fact, snippets of familiar dreams started moving through my mind in such rapid succession, with such clarity, that I thought I must be asleep. These recurrent dreams, you know, the one about exploring this weird forest in a canoe; the one where you are lost in Europe and trying to enjoy yourself on the beach while trying to protect your entire family from a murderous mafia group; then immediately the planning dream where it’s half past eight, you can’t find your pants and you are trying to feed all your kids and 5 orphans while important people walk through your living room.

I finished the set, sipped some water, tried to focus, and immediately the hallucinations stopped. Went back for another set, and there I was, mid-rep, planning a week’s vacation with my wife’s parents, the president of a small country, and myself a paraplegic.

By the time I finished my first set of squats I was so weirded out I decided to head home. Unfortunately, I had to carry something so I couldn’t run (or the visions might have continued). On the way home, as I often do, I tried to clear my mind, and prepare for the next work session. I often review my to-do list, prioritize phone calls, and mentally edit emails I have drafted in the last 24 hours. I can usually remember important emails almost word-for-word, and draft replies obsessively and subconsciously, in outline and with complete sentences.

Nothing. I felt like I had been on vacation for 6 months. I remembered a letter to my boss that was supposed to be important. Tried to read it in my mind but noticed how green the trees were, wondered if that pothole was new, then it concerned me why that man in front of me was greeting the mama with ever-so-slightly less than the usual measured, proper, distance.

Oh well. Oxygen deprivation can do strange things to a soul. I wonder though, why, after 10 years of relatively intense athletics off and on, would it happen today? I love pushing myself to the limit, rather stupidly at times I must say. But I’ve never experienced anything like this. Is there any possible clinical (or recreational :-) ) use for oxygen deprivation? Any doctors or shrinks out there to help me out?

The Dark Side of Prioritization

2009-02-21T19:44:00.005+03:00

Ever heard of bacterial dysentery? It’s when Debbi is running to the bathroom like every 15 minutes all night. Shadrach woke up about 5 times, so you can imagine what my night was like. I finally grabbed a mattress and put it on the concrete floor in our courtyard (outside the bedroom doors under the stars). I slept great from then on—until both kids woke up at 6:30. “Daddy, I want to play rough with you!”

Arghh.

Needless to say I didn’t get much prayer/meditation time in yesterday morning.
After walking Priska to school and leaving Debbi groggy but happy on the couch, I wandered into the office. Bad Aram: since I committed to accomplishing twice the work in half the time, I decided never go to the office unless I know what I am trying to do and how long I have to get it done. I ended up reshuffling files so things are tidy and proper for 2009—Not a bad idea but what if I asked myself . . . . .

1) What would happen if I didn’t do this task at all, or had someone else do it?
2) If this is the only thing I accomplished today, would I be satisfied?

Nothing, and no. So I made it to 1:00 pm without doing anything remotely important-non-urgent (unless you count the 30 minutes I spent learning how to prevent weightlifting injuries). I didn’t study Swahili, and I put off scheduling 2 appointments that I don’t really feel like doing.

Ruthless prioritizing is both extremely effective and emotionally exhausting. Because it is so effective, it has left me with too much time on my hands in spite of getting more done, initiating long term projects, and neglecting to neglect my family and self-care. The extra time disorients a workaholic like me—and makes it difficult to keep doing the very most productive activities.

Because ruthless prioritizing is so exhausting, it is hard to maintain: work-for-work-sake is honestly a lot easier. The most important thing on my to-do list is also usually uncomfortable: calling someone to ask a favor, making a decision that will anger someone, or sitting in traffic. There’s a reason I have been putting the important thing off for so long—I don’t really want to do it!

A new Dismal Hypothesis: the most effective activity is often the most dreaded activity, so if you strive to be effective you will be more and more often uncomfortable.

An allegory: research on weightlifting has shown that 1 “set” (group of lifts you do without pausing) of an exercise can be as effective as 3 or even 6 or 8 sets. The catch? You have to start with a high weight and keep working the muscle until you can’t possibly lift 50% of that weight even once more. This “one-set-to-failure” pattern can give you as much progress working out 1 or 2 hours a week as most people get in 6 or 8. But you have to be willing to push yourself to the max every set, every exercise, every workout. Most people simply can’t sustain that kind of prioritizing.

Remember what your mother used to say? “If you can’t say something nice, then just be quiet.” Corollary: “If you can’t do something productive, then just relax.” Maybe I’ll go make myself some coffee.

Specific Counterproductivty and Christian Mission

2009-02-02T15:15:00.003+03:00

"Paradoxical counterproductivity . . . . .is now surfacing in all major industrial sectors. Like time-consuming acceleration, stupefying education, self-destructive military defense, disorienting information, or unsettling housing projects, pathogenic medicine is the result of industrial overproduction that paralyzes autonomous action." Illich, Ivan. Medical Nemesis

What I take from Ivan Ilich is that any institution will at least in some instances produce a result that is exactly opposite from its stated or obvious purpose. Mission agencies will prevent churches from multiplying and charities will increase poverty. Once we face these limitations honestly, it will help us root out our worst mistakes--or at least be more humble.

It's not hard to see how specific counterproductivity is playing out in Kenya.

One example: many parts of the country have missed rain this year, so the government declared a state of emergency, appealed to donors, and plans to import 4 million bags of maize.

Back to the maize. Maize will be released into rural areas, if it gets that far, and will prevent people from starving. Good.

But what about the other consequences? Rural people in areas like Ukambani will be even more accustomed to eating maize, and continue to plant it hoping for the lucky 1 year in 5 that they get enough rain for a crop. Families will continue having more babies, who, thanks to the relief food, will survive and divide their ancestral lands into ever smaller plots. The women will continue to cut down trees for fuel, never bothering to build a cookstove (out of mud and grass) which could decrease fuel usage by 50%. Deforestation will continue to decrease rainfall, decrease infiltration, accelerate desertification.

The next famine will be even more severe. NGO's will issue more urgent pleas for funding, but a massive global financial crisis will cause most countries to ignore them . . . . .

I could detail how missionary work has been similarly short-sighted, crippled by unintended consequences. But it seems cruel and is certainly painful: some of the kindest, most self-sacrificial people I know gave their lives for these churches.

And I get to live with the legacy. I met a Mennonite pastor last month—talked to him about 5 minutes. In the month since then, he has called me 3 times. Call 1: I have a problem, and I need some money. Call 2: Our church (of 1200 people) needs money to buy a keyboard. Call 3: My family hasn't had anything to eat for 4 days. God save us all.

It seems odd, but then again, our mission agency paid the salaries of Kenyan pastors into the 80's. Ivan Illich would be proud.

Last Night--from Kenya

2009-01-21T15:30:00.003+03:00

I don't believe that countries can bring salvation. I believe that nationalism is usually dangerous, that allegiance to flag or even tribe threatens our allegiance to God and to humanity. I am not fanatic about Obama, nor do I think he will bring peace in the middle east next week.

Nonetheless, countries and their leaders can reflect good ideals or exhibit evil habits, and last night was one opportunity to recognize something good.

I kept having the feeling: "Wow, I'm getting a new country."

Is anything different now that Obama is president? No. Another Harvard-educated President—big surprise there. Popular, if not completely populist, funded by big money from, well, from everywhere. Really big money. But even that big money can't fix the implicit debt of Social Security and especially Medicaid—and anybody who pretends they can is, well, pretending. Same as last time. The Leading White Evangelical prayed--much too long, according to my wife. Same as last time.

But, is anything different? Yes, the country has changed because it's most powerful symbols have suddenly appeared next to a different set of narratives: the narratives of the stranger and the slave, the poor and the hopeful.

Over the past several decades, the images and metaphors of the American dream have become aligned so closely with preserving white suburbia that they have lost most of their power for good, and invite cynicism rather than hope. When we juxtapose George Bush with George Washington, "Freedom" looks like a way for aristocracy to avoid paying taxes. America's fences, detention centers, and general dislike of its current immigrants squeezes "liberty and justice for all" into a narrow squint of self-interest.

No wonder the world doesn't like us.

Last night, the symbols of America were juxtaposed with a different set of stories. The son of an African immigrant became the most powerful man in the world. I've been to the district where Obama senior came from and his grandmother still lives. Not the poorest place in the world . . . . but very close.

"W" becoming president invites cynicism. Obama becoming president ignites imagination.

Last night, an African American, who lived during Jim Crow, sang about "Freedom," and it carried the scent of the Exodus, of Martin Luther King, Jr., of Mandela and millions of others.

Even I, the veteran American Cynic, found myself shaking with excitement. Same word, different story. A good story, from my country.

Lifestyle Change Part II

2009-01-11T12:33:00.000+03:00

In my last post (below--please read it first) I promised some practical, specific tips on how to overhaul your lifestyle to double your productivity with half the work. Try these on for size and let me know what happens. And make sure you don't convert all your spare time into work again or you will 1) die OR 2) end up in full-time work-for-work's sake in a couple of months. You MUST relax and recreate.

Things to stop doing.

Stop checking email. Well, not completely. Check email at most 2x per day, at a predetermined time (NOT first thing in the morning), and only read emails on which you can act immediately. DO NOT file emails or sort them. Search for them when you are ready to act on them and ignore them until then.

Stop going to meetings. 80% of meetings are a waste of time. Set agenda by email, get the minutes and respond to action points as soon as you read them. Decrease the number of meetings that you chair and don’t attend if you don’t need to chair them. See Four-Hour Workweek for how to do this without getting in trouble. Double-schedule meetings so you are forced to skip one.

Stop consuming information that is not 1) important 2) relevant, AND 3) immediately actionable. That means news, theology, non-fiction books, magazines, polls, lectionary materials (except when preparing a sermon) blogs, etc, etc. Won’t you get behind? No. Look for the information when you are ready to act on it (or look for someone who has it) and not a minute before. Take a 5 day media fast and find out how little you need and how much time you waste.

Cut your relationship lists. This one hurts, but let’s be honest: How many people do you relate to unnecessarily? Make a list, classify it, pray over it, apply 80/20 and spend your time with the 20% of the people that you like, that like you and are open to change.

Don’t confuse time limits with attention limits. We often think we don’t have time, when actually our attention is what is limited (and not just for us ADD folks). An hour spent is not an hour accomplished. Pay attention to your cycles of energy and use them to your advantage. No one can be productive for 18 hours straight—if you can pay attention to a task for 45 minutes, only work on that task for 45 minutes and then go to something else or take a break. This especially applies to study activities, which I'll explore in a future post.

Things to start doing:

Build Momentum. Take action immediately on the thing that has been on your list the longest or would change it all if completed. Arrange a night out with your spouse or a personal retreat. Reserve tickets for your dream vacation. Apply to grad school. Schedule a session with a realtor to look at houses. Now. Before you finish reading this post. Most action, even spectacular ones, are not that spectacular, but only action.

Find and assistante and delegate. Find a new employee who can serve as a gopher, an intern who is eager to learn about what you are doing, a high school student who will work for a few bucks and hour, or negotiate for an assistant at your job. If in ministry, talk to your denomination or pick a promising member of one of your committees. Take your responsibility as mentor seriously:
• No busy work: Always eliminate before you delegate
• Give clear instructions (side benefit: this will force you to figure out what the heck you wanted to do in the first place)
• Follow-up with 20% of the time you were spending on the task (more at first and decreasing over time)
If in business, consider a virtual assistant. If a high school grad in Bangladesh can do most of your job, hire a high school grad in Bangladesh. This is more and more common even for Fortune 500 companies.

Automate. If you fix the same problem, or even go through the same procedure more than once, you might be wasting time. Write down the best possible way to handle the issue, and have your assistant do it. This can be applied to accounting, meetings, utility bills, visitations, routine decisions, and even email. See E-Myth Revisited for more on the idea of replacing yourself with foolproof systems.

Recreate. Re-activate old interests (or find new ones) and keep them alive. NASCAR, jazz saxophone, weightlifting, French, who cares. Recreation provokes imagination, sharpens intellect, and connects us with others. Not only that, but recreation is becoming some of my most productive time. Often a brilliant insight comes after 3 hours of hiking or an hour of daydreaming about the future beside the pool.
It’s unholy to work in ministry 24/7, and lazy to be industriously working for work’s sake. Stop it.

Use deadlines to your advantage. I recently gave one of my best teachings ever: a 3 hour lecture to trainers of pastors. My prep time? Two forty-five minute sessions. Normally I would piddle for days on something like this. For proposals, sermons, papers, and projects that must be done but take significant time, you can still do 80/20. Try this method at least 3 times--I promise it won't ruin your career.
• Estimate the time you would normally spend on the task
• Divide by ten
• Schedule 2 sessions of that length when you will have uninterrupted attention
• Force yourself to complete it on time.

And Finally, 2 things: leave a comment, and make sure you check out Stephen Covey and Timothy Ferriss

New Year’s Resolution: Twice the results, half the work

2009-01-11T12:02:00.000+03:00

Everyone knows the “Pareto Principle” even if they have never heard of it.
• 20% of the donors give 80% of the contributions
• 20% of your work time produces 80% of the results
• 20% of your counselees produce 80% of the life change
• 20% of your disciples are 80% of your legacy
• 80% of your meetings accomplish next to nothing
• 80% of your job could be done by a high school graduate in Bangladesh

And so on. I used to think this meant that I could accomplish five times as much if I worked hard enough. New interpretation: if I am constantly busy, I am wasting nearly all of my time.

Confession: I have been constantly busy for 30 years as a matter of principle. When I was 9, I was reduced to tears when I once forgot to bring a book to read on the 7-minute ride to school. Very little has changed. To paraphrase Aladdin: “Gotta live to work, gotta eat to live” . . . . so eat fast. Debbi and I almost didn’t get married because I thought she wouldn’t let me work hard enough, and since then I’ve been bickering more or less constantly to extend my work hours.

No longer. In the past 3 months, since reading an incisive application of Pareto (see suggested reading at the end), I have re-organized my life from head to toe. My challenge to myself in the past few months has been to double my productivity while working half as much as I did previously. It’s not as hard as you might think.
The Result: My time use now looks like this.

Counting R&D as half work, I am working ½ of the time as previously. In reality, my production has more than doubled. I spend virtually all of my work time on only 3 activities: creating standard practices for the guest house, training leaders or preaching, and working with my 5 top mentors, mentees, and friends. My wife will testify that I am actually now negotiating with her to take longer family vacations. I am more physically fit than I have been since I was a junior in college, and I have more time for childcare so Debbi is happier and more productive as well.

I am not talking about getting back to practicing piano or eating more vegetables. Most of us, especially those with more sophisticated job descriptions, or those in ministry, need radical surgery on our schedules. It's been almost 3 months now and I am convinced that this is one of the most serious transitions of my life.

Sound appealing? Forget making new resolutions! You probably have enough from previous years. Instead, do the following
• Drop everything possible for the next 48 hours, focus on re-organizing your life for effectiveness rather than efficiency.
• Ask yourself: if my spouse was in the hospital and I could only put in 2 hours per day, what would I do? This single question can change your life!
• Take the kids to Barnes and Noble now, pick up and read one of the following books in the next week. Speed-read the chapters I suggest and take notes of items for immediate action. Better yet, take a week-long retreat and read all of them.
• The Four Hour Workweek, Timothy Ferriss. Chapters 1-7, 14-16.
• The E-Myth Revisited, Michael Gerber. 7-9, 13-15, and 18.
• 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey. Overview and Habits 1-3
• Spend 3 minutes posting some feedback (as a comment on this blog) to help others know where to go from here.

In the next post, we’ll look at some very specific ways to start working in the effective 20% and eliminating the ineffective 80%. Until then, enjoy this pic of me on Mt. Kenya. I’ve wanted to climb mountains for years, but was always too busy . . . .

Trees in a slum

2008-11-04T16:54:00.000+03:00

“What would you do if you knew you could not fail? If you had a hundred million dollars in the bank and were 10 times smarter than everyone else in the world?”

--That’s ridiculous.

--Touché. And ditto previous query.

--Ditto previous query to you. What would YOU do?

“I don’t know. I like preaching. I like solving problems and having fun with ideas, I like farming, I like new projects. I would start new projects. Maybe I could plant trees in a slum. Hey, that would be great!”

--Sounds nice . . . . but of all the things a wealthy genius could do, why would you do that? How about windsurfing, creating a better mousetrap, or buying a bigger flatscreen TV? And let’s call them HISA’s, not slums: High-density Informal Settlement Areas.

“Ok, HISA it is. But I love trees. Trees improve the quality of life and they fulfill needs created by God, not by advertisers. They filter the air and counter the negative effects of pollution. They attract rain and decrease runoff. They provide shade, which improves comfort and creates natural gathering places. Placed correctly, these gathering places can improve family or community life, or put eyes on the streets to decrease crime.”

--What would you plant?

“We’ll start with Moringa. They can reach 5 meters in 1 year. The leaves are extremely nutritious eaten as greens, and greens are eaten at every meal here. The leaves have more Vitamin C than orange peels, more calcium than milk, more protein than beans, etc. The immature seed pods can be eaten like green beans, the dried seeds can be pressed for oil. They can be propagated easily by seed or by cutting.”

“But since one solution never works, we’ll also try papayas (small amount of space with fruit after 1 year) mangos (good cash crop if you can somehow keep a million kids from eating the crop) and I also need a drought resistant, fast growing shade tree that goats won’t eat, preferably with a marketable fruit or seed—any ideas?”
--Uh, no ideas for now. I’ll get back with you on that. How many trees would you plant?

“At least one per inhabitant—clearly an impossible number, considering that the largest HISA’s have nearly a million inhabitants, and the average tree survival rate in Kenya is about 6%.

--So, other than 100 million dollars and an IQ of 200, which I promised you at the beginning, what is needed to plant a million trees in a slum?

“Well, pretty much the same thing that is needed to plant 100.
• First, we need space. In many parts of HISA’s, 6 people sleep in the space that one tree needs. Along the sides of roads or paths, in school yards or some of the larger housing compounds, might be possibilities
• Second, someone has to want the tree. Enough to fertilize it, water it, and protect it from predators. This means networking with landlords, neighbors, elders, and chiefs. Getting a tree to survive the first 3 years especially will be a colossal community task
• Third, in order for someone to want it, there needs to be an economic benefit that accrues to someone—as small a number of people as possible. Not easy to do when most of the common spaces are seen by 10,000 people a day.”

Finally, I need a snowball effect to get us from 1 hundred to 1 million . . . . . let's start with 100. I'll let you know how it goes.

Galatians 3:28

2008-09-22T12:08:00.001+03:00

On Sat, Sep 13, 2008 at 7:40 PM, XXXXXXXX@aol.com wrote:
Dear Aram,

I hope this note find you in good health.

We have our small Guest house in Lavington for our international staff coming in the region. Most of the time we do have some rooms available.

Just in case you are booked up, you can send some of your guests to our Guesthouse. Our Policy allows us to take only missionaries from the US, Canada, Australia and Europe.

Again thank you very much for your support
The Rev. Gabriel Odima

-----------------------------------------------------------------
On Sun, Sep 14, 2008 at 8:02 AM, aram.digennaro@gmail.com wrote:

Dear Reverend
Do you accept Black Americans? What about Italians who are exceptionally dark-skinned? No Koreans? We don't really like any of those people here and would be glad to send them your way.

In Christ
Aram

#3: God and Evil--too close for comfort

2008-09-14T09:25:00.000+03:00

Conrad: One of the biggest problems I have with God is the stupid things people do, especially Christians. Again, free will is fine, but at least make some limits, especially for your own people.

Me: Like, what kind of God would give us minds that come up with female circumcision, or eugenics, or the Rwandan genocide?

Conrad: Sam Harris has an interesting argument about that. Some of the greatest Christian minds - Augustine, for instance - was involved in activities that are so un-Jesus-like...and says that for people to follow Jesus and do good things and not persecute people the way Augustine did is basically saying that one of the greatest minds in the church had it wrong, and that people who aren't anywhere as intellectual as Augustine are interpreting Jesus better.

Me: Which is really true but you could argue that most of the horrible things come from people not paying any attention to Jesus’ teachings—even just ignoring one or two of them: truth is non-coercive, love your enemies, etc.

Conrad: St. Thomas Aquinas thought heretics should be killed and that St. Augustine thought they should be tortured. Ask yourself, what are the chances that these good doctors of the Church hadn’t read the New Testament closely enough to discover the error of their ways?

Me: But Jesus doesn't go around torturing people like Augustine so that they discover the error of their ways! He doesn't come and strike us with lightning like we are always talking about. It just doesn’t work that way, and I’m not sure you would approve if it did. That is why, at least in the sense that you were saying, God is not AP and needs our help.

Conrad: The thing is that I just realize that Augustine was much more brilliant than I, so it troubles me some of the stuff he did in the name of Christianity. I would probably buy two handguns and hang out with the heretic and wait for the mob to come if I thought that he was going to be tortured!

Me: It should trouble you--even if you don’t like Jesus at all. Especially if you don’t like Jesus and live in a Christian society!

In my opinion, Augustine's views on torture were an aberration from the Christian tradition—although unfortunately a very common one—cf. a recent president of ours. If you look at Augustine’s context, you can see why he thought that, and agree or disagree.

Conrad: So - Augustine was an aberration. And all traditions have aberrations, so we need to just take a deep breath and start to deal with the aberration instead of just being scared away from the tradition entirely?

Me: Or be scared away--as far as you can. You have only a bit of choice in this, but you do have a bit.

Conrad: Harris is interesting b/c he is very enlightenment. I think that Harris is really reacting to the idea that we should put the 10 commandments in every courthouse and suddenly crime will go away. I should bring a copy of Sam Harris to you...actually; you probably will find that he makes too many huge generalizations...

Me: I am annoyed by people who make huge generalizations . . . . in general.

Conrad: You might not like Harris then. I probably shouldn’t like him either. I think he just resonated with some of my feelings that I didn’t realize anyone was taking seriously.

Me: I think your resonation is fine. His point should be taken seriously. But don’t let someone paint you into a corner by saying that that in order to follow Jesus, you need to be ok with the worst things done in God’s name. Or the most repulsive parts of the Bible. That’s just the straw man—regardless of whether your IQ beats Augustine’s.

The Old Testament Question

Conrad: Another reason I’m not sure I want to help God out is b/c it seems that the God that I hear about in the Bible can be deeply loving but also about as mature as a three year old. In order to come up with something that is palatable to the modern person; we need to do theological back flips. Think of how many books are written that take 300 pages to say "well, all the times when God tells people to kill foreigners in the OT, we need to understand that in its cultural context, etc.”

Me: Do YOU think God wants us to kill people? Or maybe that a God like that doesn't/shouldn't exist? Or would you possibly opt for following something like Jesus instead of the genocide imperatives?

Conrad: Let me try another approach. It just seems to me that unlike any other field, with every passing year, we need to do more theological back flips and explanations for what we read in our Bibles. Unlike say, physics, where we make advances and add to knowledge instead of trying to reinterpret 2000 year old scriptures. I mean, if we could bring Aristotle to 2008, his scientific knowledge would be rivaled by a sixth grader. And everyone would laugh at him.

Me: But we CAN understand enough about religion to choose whether or not we act on a Jesus narrative, or we act on another. And that may be the only question facing us--when we see that choice--which direction do we go?

Conrad: I guess I’m not sure how to respond to that question because it is not usually presented as a choice to inhabit one narrative over another. What I hear is "this is truth, this is how God is, and this is so plainly obvious that you are nuts if you don't agree with me."

Me: But do you really think it is plainly obvious? Nothing important is plainly obvious!

Conrad: To some people it is. I guess I'm reacting to some kind of fundamentalist. If we can agree that there is a choice element, then I'm fine and I have no beef.

Me: What does that choice entail--for you? To be perfectly individualistic?

Conrad: I'm not sure.

I guess I feel weird sitting in church reading parts of the OT and being able to turn the page to Leviticus or Deuteronomy and read parts where it says that we should be killing people for stupid crap. I feel like someone needs to stand up and say that maybe the text came from a group of tribal people who were scared of getting their asses kicked and were really paranoid and thus their God told them that killing other people for stupid reasons is okay.

And people don't like that b/c they like to think of the Bible as one unit, whole, FedEx'ed to us by God. And I just think that that is sort of ridiculous.

Me: Yeah, me too.

Conrad: So I don't know what to do.

Me: But you are already doing many things because of strong convictions--you are just not sure if it is because of a religious narratives or "to make the world a better place in which our children can grow free and strong."

Conrad: But it seems like it is intellectually dishonest to cherry pick the parts of the bible that we like, and ignore the part where it says "if your brother looks at your girlfriend the wrong way, kill him".

Conrad: Right - I am already doing what I think is right - living somewhat responsibly, saving money so I can go to grad school and effect change, working with Amnesty and all that. But I don’t see how I can do is BECAUSE God told me to in a book. God told a lot of people to do a lot of weird stuff in that book.

Me: So, is it intellectually dishonest to cherry pick Jesus? And say--I think this guy was on to something. I want to live by his example and ideals as genuinely as possible in my current cultural context.

Conrad: Sure, Jesus was on to something, absolutely. But that doesn’t answer all my questions.

Me: And neither can I. Sorry, I need to get to bed here soon

Conrad: It is great talking to you. I will definitely send you $50 now.

Me: If you send me 50 bucks I will bless you with every fiber of my being, and you will get at least $500 by Thursday.

Conrad: hahahaha.

Me: I don't think it is money you need. But this has been an awesome conversation. If you would become an atheist we could write an awesome book together!

Conrad: Even better, you become the atheist - that would be a compelling narrative.

Me: I’ll give it my best shot.

Conrad: Alright dude. Say hi to Debbi. Great talking. These are important issues, I think.

Part 2: Theodicy

2008-09-14T08:41:00.001+03:00

Bits of Clothing where the church in Eldoret, Kenya was burned to the ground with women and children inside.

As I continue my conversation with Conrad, we explore the old question of God and evil co-existing in this universe. No easy answers here.

Conrad: And now we are back to the basic issue of theodicy - how do we reconcile this notion of the all loving, all powerful, all knowing God with the fact that the world is a terrible place sometimes? No, let me correct that: the world is a hell hole most of the time for most of the people.

And people say, well, Adam and Eve sinned, or we have free will, and that gave evil a chance to prosper. But that argument just seems stupid. What is so great about free will if it means that people suffer? I feel like everyone on earth would rather be a happy robot living in a constant birthday party world even without free will.

Me: But the endless birthday party is one narrative that not many of us really believe in, or even long for, when we are at our best. But I admit that the "free will/robot" idea is a tired metaphor. Do you have a better one?

Conrad: I'm not sure. I guess I don't know how to worship God as an AL, AP, AK [all loving, all powerful, all knowing] God and then keep my eyes open . . . . It just seems like when we talk about how great God is, we need to do that by turning a blind eye to 95% of the stuff that goes on in the world.

Anyway, I don't need to bother you with my silly questions if you don't want. I'm just curious to see what you think.

Me: They aren't silly, for sure.

Conrad: well, it just seems that most people don't get hung up on it...and I really do and have been since 6th grade when I realized that the world is sort of broken. So maybe we need to get rid of the all loving part. I think that all loving should be 'all mysterious' because obviously stuff happens in the world that is not love. And some people say that that is part of God's mysterious plan for life, which is fine, but then let's just not call it love.

Me: All mysterious. All free. Or just, all God. That sounds pretty orthodox to me. And like I said, Jesus didn’t even claim to prove things, just to present “Signs.” But, as you say, if he was God, why not at least do a good job at the PR stunts? There is nothing undeniable about his claims. Nothing invincible about belief in him. Otherwise, would they really have killed him?

Conrad: Do you think that God is not all powerful? It seems to me that God is normally worshipped as all powerful in most places...

Me: I would say "most powerful" but not "all powerful.” For example, he cannot make evil good. Or make me see a car while not seeing it. Or force someone to do something while letting them have free will, for that matter.

Conrad: He cannot make evil good. Sure, but he could conceivably make a world that has no evil at all, right? I mean, if we start with this notion that god is the creator, the unmoved moved, the source, etc, etc, etc. then we need to say that evil came after God—so didn’t God have hand in it? Unless we say that evil was also a creator, an unmoved mover, the source, etc.

me: Yeah, I think you are right. I'm glad I don't have to preach tomorrow.

Conrad: aw, c'mon Aram, you aren't supposed to say that :-)

Me: But could he conceivably make a world that had no evil at all?

Conrad: why not? God is GOD, right? I mean, IF we believe the stuff that we say in churches about God being AL, AK and AP, sure, God could easily to that.

Me: and if he did, would it hold any interest to YOU of all people? Wouldn’t you get tired of birthday cake?

Conrad: No way. It would be awesome. There would be millions of kinds of birthday cake. You would never be hungry, but never feel full. You would be best friend with everyone and play tennis and other games all the time.

Me: So you think earth could be like heaven?

Conrad: Yeah, exactly like heaven. If we have this conception of heaven being perfect, why couldn’t God have just made earth like that?

Me: Actually I don't think there will be heaven in the conventional sense. I look forward to a resurrection but also expect there to be work and struggle.

Conrad: No wings, no harps?

Me: If you like harps, I guess.

Conrad: I’m certainly not sure. But I’m down with struggle.

Me: In my own interactions with people, it seems obvious to me that they need food and water, but also obvious that there is a spiritual element. Honestly, I can’t convince either myself or other people that all that matters is survival and the pursuit of happiness. There is a spiritual element there, a quest or struggle for something beyond.

And that quest wouldn’t be real in the “perpetual-birthday-party” world. I can’t imagine how that spiritual element would be possible in a “perfect” world. So maybe God made a mistake, but I can’t imagine being myself, or having a God like I know, in a birthday party world. Can you?

Conrad: Struggle is fine. What I'm not down with is, say, babies being tortured. I feel like that threatens in a profound way the notion that God is AL, AP and AK.

Me: So you would opt to drop the all powerful?

Conrad: Exactly. It seems that it would be better to say that God is not all powerful, and that God needs our help.

I mean, how can you say that God is all powerful and then go commission people to be social workers? If God is all powerful, then what's the point of having social workers? They can't do hardly anything compared to GOD.

Me: I think you are on to something there. But I want to know something: what is it that makes you want to "help God out"? What kind of God do you think you are helping out when you work for goodness, beauty, justice, etc?

Part 1: The End of Faith

2008-09-08T08:02:00.001+03:00

The following is a slightly edited IM conversation from the other night with a friend of mine. I won’t try to categorize him as a Christian, agnostic, etc., but what I really love is his honesty with himself about his own doubts and questions, as well as his inclinations to faith. I’ve divided it into a couple of sections because the conversation was a bit long. This is the first.

Me: What is going on lately?

Conrad: well, there's a hurricane on the east coast right now - Hanna, I believe. But I'm cozy in my bedroom listening to tango music.

Me: Nice. I always loved rough weather. But I don't know how to tango in the least.

Conrad: Yup, I love it too. Dude, you sent me a request for support and I never responded and lost the information.

Me: Don't worry we don't need money until next year. But if you want to give us some I'm sure God will bless you and make you RICH!

Conrad: yeah right! I was once at a church where they basically told that story and I thought it was a ridiculous lesson to teach people...

Me: I just read a book "Jim and Caspar go to church" where a pastor takes an atheist to a bunch of churches just to get his reaction. It is pretty funny, but sad too—a lot of things like I just said to you that ticked the atheist off.

Conrad: Oh, I heard about that book. I was just reading The End of Faith as well as some essays compiled by Carl Sagan. I would love to hear your reaction. Being the highly qualified minister person you are :-)

Me: yeah I would love to see it

Conrad: Or I can basically sum up the most compelling part of the essay quickly for you. It goes like this. The Jews were really good about preserving Torah even when it made no sense, like, a woman is unclean when she menstruates, or don't wear clothing of different fabrics. Don't cut your hair a certain way, dress with a shirt that you can see under the coat, etc, etc, etc.

Me: Actually I don't remember the one about the shirt under the coat--must have missed that in ethics class. And I’m not convinced that these laws were completely irrelevant in their context, but let’s say I agree.

Conrad: And those laws were codified and written down or passed down orally for more than 2000 years to be very conservative, probably more like 2500 years.

Me: Right.

Conrad: Carl Sagan argues that it would have been easy for God to provide incontrovertible evidence for God's existence by just throwing in a few key sentences in the Torah. Like – “Thou shalt not travel faster than the speed of light.” And the Jews would have said "Well, we aren't sure that this means, but we will write it down because that is what God says!"

Conrad: or "Mars is a volcanic planet. There used to be rivers. You will understand this some day. Just write it down". Or "this is the magnetic field. This is the electric field."

Me: But he didn't.

Conrad: No, God didn’t'.
And Carl Sagan doesn’t' say this explicitly, but I think that part of the argument is that Jesus used miracles as a public relations stunt in some ways. So if it is okay for Jesus to use miracles as public relations stunts, why couldn't God do a few and make everyone on earth a believer?

Me: I think this is a good point. It seems that Jesus didn’t present any proofs, just "signs."

Conrad: Sagan: "If we believe, as most of the great theologians hold, that religious truth occurs only when there is a convergence between our knowledge of the natural world and revelation, why is it that this convergence is so feeble when it could easily have been so robust?”

And speaking personally, I think that's a very interesting and important question.

Me: I can’t disagree. I have been thinking about this (faith issue) quite a lot as I have been preaching lately to fervent audiences who have never read Sagan.

I find myself wondering: “Why do we have to put up with this feeble faith thing?”

Conrad: that's a good question.

Me: But, (as John Howard Yoder says) real truth is not coercive. If every bit of God’s truth was physically or logically imposed on people, it would not have the same impact, nor would it be true to some part of God’s nature.

Conrad: And a lot of people would say that part of the god- human relationship is faith and free will, and without both, we become robots or something.

Me: Yes, we hear that frequently.

Conrad: but I feel like it would be pretty awesome to be a robot if God was doing miracles all the time and we were in constant awe of God's power in EVERYTHING, not just the stories that you hear at church of some guy being healed all of a sudden.

Me: Or like I was chatting with my friend in Mozambique the other day who says Biblical type miracles happen on a weekly basis. Why couldn’t that somehow be obvious to everybody, or documented, or whatever?

Conrad: And I'm not trying to play that kind of thing down, it seems it happens. I just think that every time someone in church stands up and say "we are so thankful for God because we were saved from this and that", we also need to think of all the things that God did not save people from. Doesn’t all that evil and suffering call into the question of this free will thing?

Please check back for witty repartee on the theodicy question and more.

Unless You Enter the Kingdom

2008-09-03T21:37:00.000+03:00

Slum Life Part II: Family Finance Principles

2008-08-31T21:24:00.002+03:00

What is life like in a slum? Some residents are middle class with income from businesses or rental properties—and live there because the place has become home. They enjoy the bustle, the good prices, the constant movement and easy contact with people. Population is so dense there might be 1000 people living within 50 yards. That makes for an active social life!

Other residents sleep like goats on the street or someone’s veranda, and walk to town each day “looking for money.” Many have small businesses selling vegetables or used clothes.

Some slum residents have steady, regular employment, but unemployment is extremely high. When I verbally posted a job opportunity here at the guest house, I said I was paying $100 per month, and within a week I had had 6 or 8 resumes on my desk. People with experience and training! I selected the best and pay him twice that amount. Is that lying?

If you are lucky enough to have a steady job, you will probably make about 100 dollars. Some are more, some are less, but an average decent, steady job should pay around 300 shillings or $4.50 per day. If you are really desperate, you can work for City Council sweeping the streets or being a parking meter. You will make about $50 per month—about as much as it takes for a bus in and out of town each day.

And this will be your monthly family budget, if one person has a good job making $100 per month.

$20 rent—one room a bit bigger than your bathroom, in a decent part of the slum
$15 average--a bus one way to work—you walk 1-2 hours the other way to save money
$15 10 kilos of maize flour to make ugali
$10 one half pound of meat once a week
$10 charcoal for cooking and boiling water
$5 15 minutes of cell phone time to keep in touch with family
$3 a bunch of greens every day
$2 a couple of buckets of water every day for cooking, drinking, washing and laundry

That leaves $20 per month for school fees, medical expenses, family outings, emergencies, funerals, offerings at church, and contributing to the needs of your family members who might not have work.

Anyone want to come teach a budgeting class?

Slum Life Part I

2008-08-31T21:24:00.001+03:00

Slum Life Part I

From its inception Nairobi was a well-planned city—in a perverse sort of way. The resourceful British placed a tax on all adult African males, and in order to pay the tax, the men had to come to the city to work.

The Brits then imported Indians to run their businesses, and planted the Indians in between to buffer them from the Africans. Ta-da! Free land, free labor, and beautiful, luxurious estates to the west and north of town.

But where will all the men live, after they leave their farms to come to the city to work, sweeping the city streets by hand, and cutting grass with machetes? You can only build so many houses.

Just give them some empty space and they will figure it out.

Thus is born the eighth wonder of the modern world—the slum. The demographic trends continue—people moving from the rural areas in search of cash or a new life. Currently, three-quarters of the population of Nairobi lives in a slum.

And still they grow bigger.

And the sewage trickles down the footpath. And the trickles join and flow into the rivers. And “economic growth” clogs the highways with new SUV’s from Japan, and fills the air with clouds of diesel smoke. And NGO’s pump in money and medicine and advice.

And the slums grow still bigger.

And charcoal flows in from the forests, and less rain falls each year, and more people flow into the city because the crops have failed.

And the slums grow still bigger.

Sometimes good planning can backfire.

Hypnosis and Robert Kyosaki

2008-07-22T15:11:00.000+03:00

Pop quiz: after his resurrection, Jesus was mistaken for whom? An angel? God? An elf king with shining hair? No, no, and no. I like to point out when I teach on Genesis that the practical side of “ruling over” all of God’s creatures was to be given a garden and told to eat vegetables. (Most of us know this requires a lot of hoeing.) The first “adamah” or earthling was a gardener. And the last Adam, the first of the new, resurrection, “humanity 2.0” is a gardener in God’s new Earth.

I’ve read a few of the “Rich Dad, Poor Dad books. Kiyosaki's financial counsel is to get “out of the rat race and into the fast track.” He says we should work towards being “financially independent,” i.e. not dependent on wage earning to pay our living expenses. The “fast track” is having time to do what you think is important.

Work is good, creation of wealth is good. These are, or at least can be, an appropriate exercise of our God-given ability to rule. But there is something to be said for being in the fast track. Nouwen says the reflective space between stimulus and action is what makes us human. Other things besides “financial independence” can create this space: Sabbath, prayer, meditation. But if you are going to get something done, you have to be freed for a moment from the need to work all day to get enough food for that day.

Some of my most productive times have been when I was forced to step back from the need to work every day. A lull in my boss’s business forced me to think through starting my own business—and then to do it. A lull in my own business gave me time to repair my roof (while bagging thousands from my insurance company), repair my credit, refinance my house, and buy another. If I had had that time a year earlier I might have four more houses right now.

And now, being in Kenya, I am temporarily out of the rat race: I have grand-sounding job descriptions but almost never have to clean a room, or book reservations, or even wash my own dishes at home. As a result, I have time to think and to do things that take spare time and spare thought. Small things: renovating 2 unused rooms increased our capacity by 7% which is almost pure profit; switching accounts for our cash reserves generates the equivalent 20% of my salary.

These are concrete examples, and in that way may be the easiest to recognize and exploit. The deeper ones, psychological and relational and spiritual, are more complicated. But how can they come without time? more time for prayer, intentional Sabbath, exploring relationships, listening for direction. That is the “fast track.”

In the movie Office Space, the protagonist seeks treatment for a problem of stress at work. A therapist hypnotizes him, tells him to forget about his worries, and then promptly has a heart attack. Hypnotized semi-permanently, the hero sleeps in the next morning, ignores the boss’s phone calls, goes to the office at noon and smiles his way confidently through his day. Before his hypnosis wears off, he is targeted for upper management.

The Sabbath is misinterpreted if it is only a “day off.” For almost everyone on earth, one day off in seven is or could be the difference between being a human sump pump, and being a human being. The first part of the Sabbath commandment is not “stop working” but “remember.” Remember who made you; remember your purpose. Take a whole day, make it holy.

This earth requires a lot of hoeing, and, bless God, so will the new earth. I for one expect to see a lot more hoes than harps. But in the meantime, we are under strict instructions to be in the “fast track.” So get out of the rat race, take another day off, go to work permanently hypnotized, remember your purpose. Remember.

Great is Thy Faithfulness

2008-07-22T15:08:00.000+03:00

Dios de Pactos
Que guardas tus promesas
Que cumples tu palabra
Que guias mi destino

Dios de Pactos
Confio en tus promesas
Descanso en tu Palabra
Por tu gracia estoy aqui

Women And Coffee

2008-06-28T15:56:00.000+03:00

Critics come in 3 classes: tourists, newcomers, and residents. The generalizations of tourists and newcomers are generally short-sighted and shallow, and alternately infuriate and amuse. “Greece is a land of sun-drenched mountains, quaint harbors and quiet olive farmers.” “The X are a traditional, peace-loving people caught in the vise of technological and social change.” Blah, duh, oh please, etc.

But we forget that outsider eyes may bring some gift of insight. The collision of cultures, like the collision of ocean currents, is a baffling and fruitful area. Newcomers literally bring another perspective—and see things that may be invisible to residents. Alternately, and probably much more often, they see themselves from a new perspective and are enriched by it.

Thus, please accept our apology for a strange set of comments—on how coffee coincides with social reality, and especially with the stereotypical personalities of women. Take Costa Rican coffee, for example. It is known for its bright, crisp flavors, dominated by fruity and floral accents. Bitter, yes, but drunk with 3 teaspoons of sugar, it is truly “pura vida.”

And you could almost describe Latin women with the same characteristics—bright, crisp, floral. They wear gold jewelry, high heeled shoes, and somehow always maintain well-manicured hands (in our observation). Beauty, passion, flair; despite any hardship and bitterness, there is always a dramatic story, told ecstatically in Spanish’s spoken song, enthusiastic kissing (every greeting, in fact, is a kiss), a night of salsa dancing and forgetting. As Ricardo Rodriguez says, Mexico is younger than the United States; it wears the mask of comedy.

Lavazza espresso, on the other hand, super-concentrated, very sweet, bursting at the seams with flavor, a delicate white cup and saucer. Italians knock it back in a few hits, and are off on a run to the next experience. When they laugh, they throw back their heads and gesticulate ferociously with their arms and eyebrows. All that flavor has to go somewhere, I guess. Need I explain more?

Kenyan coffee we are still getting used to. It is more like a good Shakespearean tragedy, rich in its negativity—negativity that makes you so alive you almost forget it is negative. You can always tell an East African coffee by its rich tannic flavors: earth, smoke, wood, soil. It doesn’t make you laugh and shake your fist with the morning sun. You can almost forget it’s not a full meal. It is real, solid.

Kenyan women are strikingly similar. They are strong, tough like old roosters. Beautiful, yes, but not in the same way as Latinas. They are unafraid of walking kilometers with a pile of firewood strapped to their backs or a 5 gallon bucket of water on their heads. They are “beautiful” in an indestructible way—like soil, an oak tree, or a draft horse.

African women, especially in rural areas, wear muted, second hand clothes—always clean, but generally with no respect for fashion. Their clothes remind Debbi of her grandmother’s upholstery, and is usually two sizes too big. They keep their hair cut tight against their heads. No nonsense, and all strength.

This solidity, earthiness and strength permeates both coffee and all of life here. Laughter is common but subdued, and the proxy for any other emotion. Anger is unacceptable in public. In conversation, people stand close to each other, look somewhere else, and talk in almost a whisper. What we call hardship is assumed to be part of life. Even death is accepted as a part of living on earth—bitter it is, but it is part of the flavor.

Tannin, earth, smoke, wood, soil. We’re still getting used to Kenyan coffee.

Bizarre Blessings

2008-06-20T19:39:00.000+03:00

A bizarre blessing, life here in Africa, where all your sins and fears stare you in the face like rats in the dark.

Are you afraid of power? Here you can have it—even if you are poor, you can hire a girl to shout at if you like. A newcomer to the place, I make decisions that affect the flour (bread is too expensive) of 15 families. Are you afraid of powerlessness? Here you have that too, with plenty of people around to foil your ambitions to accomplish great things—or even to trim a tree, for that matter.

Are you afraid of poverty, injustice, instability, discomfort? We have those too. They stare at you and sometimes snatch at your hand and your pocketbook. And we startle into our compounds and retreat centers in fear, but they follow us and ask why, indeed, you are afraid? Isn’t this what you came for, to see and to do something, do anything?

I needed a rest, away from these realities, to think and to pray. So I stopped for a snack, a snack that will cost as much as the waitress makes today. And that was the cheapest drink and appetizer on the menu. Greenery around. English folk music. A watchful and beautiful waitress. Just what the wazungu need, for that is their custom.

Nairobi is full of flowering trees, and today I saw an old man walking along a purple carpet of fallen flowers. I can walk past flowering trees and new Mercedes-Benz to a place where human beings bathe in and sometimes drink water oozing through the soil from open sewers, a place where people dry and grind banana peels to replace salt which costs 30 cents per kilo. Or to a new mall, with glass elevators. Extravagance and brokenness, and we are never sure on which side we are, or why, or which we deserve.

Yet this place boasts nothing uncommon in the wealthiest countries a century ago: subsistence farming, slums, death by preventable diseases, starvation. All of this was everywhere. And this place has nothing new to me—nothing I could not have seen on television or read in UN reports. There is nothing that should be shocking or strange.

Nothing, that is, except me, invading from another world, with my eyes to see the strangeness. Nothing strange, except for all of us who come to help, and bring foreign things and salvation and wealth, because that is what we have. Nothing is strange here except us. Civilization, Commerce, and Christianity. Except us, coming, seeing, and conquering. Except colonialism and the decay of the social order, and mushrooming need. Except dependency, and then the cycle begins again with more people like me.

Nothing strange except us! We are needed, respected, despised. We bring—and then consume—ghastly amounts of resources, living at levels that only the big men dream of. Kenya responds by requesting more aid, thanking the donors, and taxing the organizations to the breaking point.

So why don’t we leave? But I don’t think I am here to save the poor souls, or their bodies for that matter—maybe I would go home now if it weren’t for the strange, inescapable challenge of staring down the realities of a world I was born into, of living into the drama of the human race. This challenge was here before, but it is so hard to see, from across the ocean, or across town, or though the eyes of a companion at work or school. It is hard to see, except in a place where I am strange, and where life really matters.

I know this world alright—it’s been there all along I guess, but I couldn’t see it.

No, there is nothing new here, except me, and the eyes I bring to see the strange realities of a world I know but cannot face.
If we could face it, could we live differently?
If I could face it, it might not matter whether I live in Africa.
Because I would see that it all matters, and live differently.

All Preaching is Cross-Cultural Preaching

2008-06-10T12:33:00.000+03:00

I preached from my own story, sharing on the theme of how God has used my weaknesses and turned them into strengths. It was a very freeing sermon for me to preach—I was able to poke fun at myself and all of the things I have failed at.

It was also a very fun sermon—I don’t think I have ever gotten so much participation and positive feedback from a congregation. Which was nice, because my last sermon here at DOVE Kilimani was a bit of a dud, IMHO. This time, we laughed and laughed and laughed together—about me. And I am just starting to get back the rhythm of preaching with a translator.

What struck me most was how I prepared for and delivered the message. Since I had preached the same basic sermon before, my main preparation was walking through Kibera for several hours on Saturday. (Kibera is a slum, close to the church, where most of those who attend live. It is also one of the largest slums in the world.) I wanted as much as possible to imagine myself into the experience of the congregation, and preach about that experience, using my own stories.

I told stories from my own experience, about starting businesses that failed, about being told as at child that “there is a difference between being broke and being poor.” I told stories about trying to eke a living out of a small, poor plot of ground in a poor part of the country. I told about feeling awkward and ashamed going into from an isolated community into the big wide world.

Everything that I said was true, factually speaking. What felt odd was that I was conscious that in order to deliver this sermon I would have to inhabit a different narrative from the one I usually inhabit. I have never been stuck in poverty—the kind of poverty where you don’t have enough to eat, and your kid dies because you can’t afford antibiotics. I don’t usually interpret my life that way, but I can tell my story in such a way that it feels like I have.
I realized that I am not delivering a word from God to me. I am delivering a word from God to the people. This word must be true to their experience, even more than to mine. Our job as preachers is to find the place where the narratives of the congregation intersect with the narratives of the gospel, and tease out both the commonalities and the correctives the gospel narrative brings.

Preachers (and prophets and counselors and spiritual directors and friends) are asked to articulate this intersection better than the congregation, who lives inside it, is able to do so. We are asked to give people a new, more faithful narrative in which they can experience their reality. In this way the church can learn to walk more deeply and authentically in its own story as well as the one that the gospel brings.

Is this possible? For a foreigner to articulate a story more clearly than a local can? Yes and no. Anyone who tries to pastor a church they did not grow up in, or share with people in a new congregation, can sympathize that all preaching is cross-cultural—there is a cultural distance between prophet and people. We must learn to use this distance as an asset, and learn to minimize its (obvious) liabilities. Like any cross cultural exchange. But that is the topic of another post.