Last week, as is the normal 21st-century custom, I wrote on an old friend’s Facebook profile on his birthday. He was one of my closest friends in junior high, but I haven’t seen him in several years. My comment was simple enough, nothing flashy. The following day he commented on the post and told me that I am the “most bad-a** friend" that he has. Not a compliment that I get everyday. He then told me that he’s praying for me. I thanked him for that. His compliment certainly didn’t offend me, its quite hard to do that and when I was younger I said far worse. It just makes me laugh as I reflect on the life that I live. He clearly meant it in a good way, but it made me think about the perception that people have of me.
I certainly don’t feel like I lead a life that ought to garner such high praise. I in no way want to demean what the Lord has done in my life and is doing. However, my life seems quite normal; painstakingly normal as of late. I teach preschoolers (how bad-a** is that for a twenty-four year old man?), I spend six hours a week with a special needs kindergartener, I pray, I teach English, I preach occasionally, I lead worship, I write, I sleep, I keep track of money, I teach computers, I read, I sit on my tush, I skype with my fiancé. That’s basically my life, seriously. Certainly anyone reading this could point to any of these things as a normal activity of their own. Yet, I know that without a doubt the thing that sets me a part that people would romanticize is the fact that I live in Africa. So its not really about me, its about everyone’s favorite continent. Good, so I can stop wallowing in my vanity at this point.
I was reminded of this as I was listening to a pod cast last week on Poverty Unlocked. This girl had spent a semester in Uganda and Rwanda and was sharing about her experience. I’m glad that she was able to go and I appreciate the guests that come on to speak on this pod cast that I frequent. However, it served as a reminder as she continually referred to “Africa” as opposed to referring specifically to the country or at least the more broad East Africa. She also seemed to have this romantic view of what it would be like prior to her trip. She clearly had a different experience than expected and I’m sure God did good work in her through the experience. Its not unlike so many people that come to “Africa.”
Not long after I got here, a friend who came on the same two week team with me in 2008 asked me on Facebook if I was in heaven. The answer to that question is a resounding ’no.’ If I wanted to continue a romanticized façade that all you have to do is get “Africa” under your skin and you will forever be happy there then I would say ‘yes.’ However, I can’t claim that this is heaven when I have loved ones that are still HIV+, everywhere I turn poverty is clearly visible, I feel heat from being the racial minority, and I haven’t seen almost all of my family and friends in a year. I’m pretty sure heaven will be better than this.
I am blessed to be fulfilling the Lord’s calling, but to walk in this false romanticism would be pointless. Even those things that I love fulfilling as a part of my calling get over the whole romantic stage. Fathering the fatherless sounds pretty lofty and romantic in Christian circles. I love that that’s what the Lord has called me to, but fatherhood, especially in such a non-traditional setting, is messy. I love my son. Awadhi spent the night at my house this weekend. He has his little blanket that he uses when he’s here that a friend from my life group made for him and its just quaint. Sounds lovely and I do indeed love it. However, part of his stay includes him using the bathroom. Somehow in going to the bathroom he peed on his pants. He didn’t pee in his pants, but rather did his sign language for the toilet, I told him to go, I heard the stream hitting the water and yet he walks out with pee on his pants. I don’t know what happened. If that’s not funny enough, the next morning he showed me just how Tanzanian he is. Squatty potties are common here, but I’ve never seen someone turn a standard toilet into a squatty potty. I looked in while he was dropping anchor and he was perched up with his feet on the seat and was squatting over the toilet. How’s that for romanticism? If heaven is like walking in on your son and seeing him with his feet on the toilet seat and pooping like a dog, I might be a little disappointed.
I used to romanticize Tanzania for sure. I probably still do to some degree, but I think back to when I was in California and how much I wanted to be known as the “African guy.” I thought I was such an expert on the language and culture and just wanted to divulge that to everyone. I didn’t realize how clueless I was. Funny how every two-week missionary becomes the expert on the entire continent to all of their friends back in the states. I’m guilty of that more than anyone. I thought I was the man, its probably the same façade that I still struggle with at times. Why do we do that? Because we want people to be interested! We want people to pat us on the back and say, “wow, I can really see you have a heart for Africa and orphans. You’re inspirational.” That’s such garbage. Romance is a normal stage and component of love, but getting stuck in perpetual romanticism leads to vanity at its best and idolatry at its worst.
I think thoughts of uber-romanticism are also quite debilitating. They perpetuate this ideal situation that isn’t typically attainable, and if it is you realize that its not what it was cracked up to be. Therefore, we always make it about the next thing, all the while forsaking the present calling or position. We opt instead to escape into our own thoughts about the object of our romance.
Foremost in my life, the location of my ministry would be the most obvious object of romanticism. However, I realize that not everyone has aspirations towards Africa. For those musicians, it could be the romantic appeal of catching the big break. For the office worker, it could be that allusive promotion or even getting out of your job. For the pastor, it could be the increase in pews filled. Like I said, the things that we romanticize are typically not the things that we experience currently. That’s the reason, I don’t have a perpetually romantic relationship with Moshi anymore, I live here.
I couldn’t talk about all this without mentioning the fact that the Lord did indeed write a fairly romantic story between Melissa and me. I am happy that its been romantic. That is a normal and beautiful part of falling in love. However, the temptation would be to allow the relationship to linger there. Or for others to allow the perception of our relationship to remain there. That’s not feasible, nor is it wise. Melissa and I have been intentional about taking the gloves off, especially in this time where talking online is all we can do together. And yet, I know that other people have noted the uniqueness of the development of our relationship. I know, I checked the stats on my blogspot and that post had more hits than any other one and it was basically a novel. I’ve seen many friends of Melissa’s telling her that our story gives them hope. That’s a dangerous notion. I sincerely hope that men and women are patient in waiting for the spouse the Lord has in mind for them. However, Melissa and I don’t want our story to be “if you’re patient, then eventually you’ll find someone and you won’t have to suffer through singleness anymore.” We would much rather have our story read, “follow God individually, let Him figure out everything else and if He wants to include another person.” I know that’s scarier, but its right. Don’t get lost in the romanticism that you see in other people’s situations or the potential theoretical situation of your own. Instead, just trust God no matter what and it’ll be a lot sweeter when He does whatever He’s going to do.
Romance is beautiful. It wouldn’t be right for me to write this entire post about people’s mishandling and misperceptions of romance without mentioning that it is indeed a gift. Romance is wonderful. Its those butterflies that you get when the person of your affection walks in the door. It is the adrenaline rush as you experience new things in a new place. It causes you to write poetry and music. It is worth spending some time thinking about. However, I tell you that there is a deeper level of love and a deeper level of what romance looks like. It takes place when things get messier and the gloves come off. Its not the infatuating romance you felt at the start, its fuller.
The Lord designed true romance and desires to allow love to have its perfect and complete work in all of us, for this we give praise.
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The Rundown: Nothing new. As I write this I’m eating macaroni and cheese and listening to Eric Clapton. I suppose that’s new, but probably terribly uninteresting. I had worms for the third time in two months this last week. Because of the frequency, I guess I can’t say that that is news. I didn’t need to take a stool sample in this time though, I just knew what it felt like and I could tell that I had them. I got the medicine and sure enough it cleared up again. As mentioned Awadhi spent Saturday night here. It was good. I’m still a little tired, because I haven’t been able to catch up on sleep after his series of kicks to my rib in the night. I took the Sunday off of worship and let Mary lead. I played drum which was good, because I haven’t done that in a couple months, seriously it hasn’t been since India that I drummed at all. Other than that, a pretty normal week. All the kids are well and hopefully you’re able to read and see the profiles of them that I’ve been putting on my blogspot. Alright, be blessed!
Love you son, give Awadhi a big hug from his grandpa
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