Well, where do I begin? It's been 3 weeks since I left Iowa, and in some ways it feels like it's been 3 months. The amount of things that I have seen have made me tired, angry, frustrated, joyful, confused, grateful, and at peace. I guess I'll just start at the beginning.
Our first day in Cairo was interesting, to say the least. Not knowing any words in Arabic, we attempted to wander around and find different destinations (a place to eat, museum, etc). However, instead of being an amazing first day, it turned out to be a stressful experience due to being in a new land, with different culture, different languages, and uncertainties abounding. By the end of the day, many of us just wanted to go back to Mokattam, which felt more like a community than downtown Cairo, which instead felt like a tourist center.
The monastery in which we stay in Mokattam is gorgeous (St Simon)...It has about 7 cave churches, the 2 largest of which are awe-inspiring...I can't get over how massive they are. The main church holds about 20,000 people and looks like the stands in a football stadium, but with the face of a rock in front, above, and behind you. So I guess it beats going to an Iowa game! There are church services every Thursday, and handicapped services on Friday that we help with (going to the homes of people with trucks to pick them up, and also bringing them back).
The internships that I'm doing are the hospital and a school in which my group teaches moral issues or hygiene things. So far we've done cleaning/hygiene and respect, and it seems to be going...okay. I will tell many more stories when I get back, but for right now I will tell about Theresa, a patient at the hospital. On most days, we cut bandages for the stock room, but on Thursdays, we can watch surgeries, which is pretty cool, especially because it's completely different from anything I've done before. The first Thursday, we watched 5 tonsillectomies. The first 4 were okay, but the last one went wrong. Very wrong. During the surgery, the vitals machine didn't read at all, which was a little troubling, but nothing to worry too much about. However, after the surgery, Theresa struggled to breath and wake up. After 20 minutes of watching, we were told to leave and go to the monastery. I assumed she would be fine.
She didn't make it.
I'll explain the whole story later, but it's been a struggle to understand how it happened, especially for a tonsillectomy. They aren't deadly right? What made it worse was that it was the sister of an Egyptian that we knew fairly well. I'm still working through the frustration of the whole thing, but like I said, I will explain more when I get to the States.
Pray for me that I will stay present in the moment here, instead of thinking of home. Pray for me so that I will find that uncomfortableness is not altogether a bad thing. I think that is the biggest lesson that I'm learning so far: comfort is okay, but being comfortable also makes it more difficult to seek God. Having all my normal food, home, language, etc. really strips away my crutches and allows me to be free to seek the God that is currently working here in Cairo.
I'm sorry for the here-there-and-everywhere post, but I promise that God is doing things here, and I will write a whole summary when I get back in 2 weeks or so!
God bless,
Brendan
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Finally here...
Oh boy...after 17 hours of flying, attempting to sleep in a cramped seat, practically skipping a Tuesday due to time zones, and smelling like I've worn the same clothes for too long...I finally made it. We got into Cairo around 11 PM local time Tuesday night, and careened our way via bus through the lane-marked-but-lanes-are-irrelevant streets of Cairo. The bus navigated up to the monastery where we will be staying, which really does seem like it's against the mountains--it also overlooks the village of Mokattam.
Despite the very, very hot rooms (which were actually hotter than outside), lovely cockroaches, and the shower over the toilet, which has no toilet paper (I'll explain when I have more time--too complicated :) , we're all thankful for a safe area to sleep. It's about a 5 minute walk to the heart of Mokattam, which matches up to the pictures I've seen and shown others. It's somewhat surreal because I feel like I don't feel like I should be here yet. But ready or not, it begins.
First impressions: there's a strong sense of community already as we walked through the village. The people were very friendly, but it will be difficult during the next month due to the lack of language knowledge. While it would be amazing and much appreciated if God allowed me to be blessed with the knowledge of speaking Arabic...I'll be okay for now with the simpler phrases :)
The team is great, and I feel a close bond with many of the members. I know there will be struggles and frustrations, but I look forward to wading through that with them, and hopefully come out the other side with a better understanding of the local people and the culture.
I will email again in a couple weeks, but until then, you can check the team blog, which I posted a couple blogs ago...
Thank you all for the support, and I look forward to posting more after I get inundated with new experiences!
Love from Cairo,
Brendan
Monday, June 14, 2010
Welp, Here I Go!
About 6 hours from when my plane takes off to Mexico City for orientation, I sit here worried. I didn't think I would be, but I am. I may not have the worries that my mom have (that I will waste into oblivion by not getting enough protein) or worries that one would expect to have (that I can't speak the Arabic language, let alone write the letter "A"). No, my worry lies mostly in the thought that I may not be ready for this--emotionally and spiritually.
سلم (Blessings, in Arabic)
Brendan
This is, as most of you know, a mission trip-- a mission trip with goals of seeing spiritual growth in myself and others. A large chunk of the trip will be me serving with my hands to bless others, which is not an issue for me. What I'm uneasy about is the emotional investment that I am about to dive into. I'll give you an example of what I'm talking about. During my trip to Ethiopia two years ago, there was a point in the trip that many of the American students started to "check-out" emotionally. We had seen more poverty and diseased beggers in a month than most people see in their lifetime, and it took a toll on us. It really took some deep Jesus-searching for many of us to see the silver lining and hope in the bleak situation.
Perhaps that same frustration will set in on this trip, or maybe it won't. Regardless of what happens, though, I want to cling to Jesus for the duration of the trip. Though I'd like to think that I didn't, a part of me thought that this would be a good expansion on my global vision of poverty and what it's like in 3rd world countries--an "Anderson Cooper" type visit. A trip in which I serve, bless and be blessed, and leave. But now, 5 hours and 40 minutes before I leave, I realize that this will not be a 6-week trip. This will be a 60 year trip. This will be a trip in which the scars that I incur due to the poverty I see (which might even surpass what I saw in Ethiopia), will not be superficial. A trip that, when people ask me how my trip was, will cause me to pause and think about what I saw, who I met, and how my life changed--instead of answering "really good." And I believe God will do that.
It's very well likely that you won't hear from me for another 3 weeks...but I ask that you be praying that I: 1) Feel the love of God daily, 2) the mission trip team builds a great community, 3) the ministry that we do is effective and we see God doing special things, 4) that my body handles the food and water over there, and 5) that I forget by the time I get to Mexico City that I'm going to miss the World Cup and U.S. Open :) (just kidding... but maybe).
Thank you very much for all your support! I'm excited for what God is going to do, despite my uncertainty! I look forward to talking with all of you about what I see and the lessons I've learned when I get back!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Naps, Coffee, and God
"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." --Psalm 51: 10-12
I don't know about anybody else, but I love naps. Cat naps, naps after meals, naps before bedtime, naps after I wake up (which may count as a continuation of sleeping), naps during commercial breaks...you get the idea. Now, I don't find anything wrong with naps, but for me, naps can often be an escape from the things that bog me down emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I have 3 essays to do before tomorrow morning? I think it's naptime. I need to study for finals? Naptime. I need to blog a couple times before I leave for six weeks to Cairo? Should I get a cup of coffee and get to it? Nah...naptime.
Sure, resting is key in maintaing a healthy body, mind, and soul. For me, I believe that there is a difference in "resting" and "resting in God." In Psalm 51, David cries to God and begs that He restores joy and gives David a willing spirit, to sustain him. As I go into the Cairo trip (and my day by day living), this passage suggests that my energy, joy, motivation comes not from naps, "You can do it" posters, or Chuck Norris video clips. Instead, as I begin to stumble and lose momentum, God offers the pick-me-up that beats the largest cup of coffee or a bottle of "Five Hour Energy."
My response to that is "Awesome! So how do I do that?..." When I'm overwhelmed by the poverty in the garbage villages or unsure how to react to what I see in Cairo, what do I do to be sustained? Do I pray "super-hard?" Maybe I shouldn't sleep and just pray all day instead...absolutely no naps? As I was looking at the passage of Psalm 51 again, I saw that verse 10 says "Create in me a pure heart...and renew a steadfast spirit." Notice it doesn't mention anything to the effect of "Reward me with gratuitous amounts of energy when I pray instead of nap. Besides, our neighbor Tim is napping right now on his hammock instead of reading his Bible, so I should get brownie points." The emphasis is placed on a passive mind and body, but an active heart. David cries out to God, and asks for Him to do something in David that no amount of human effort can accomplish: a pure heart and a passionate spirit.
Ultimately, that is what I desire. I don't know if that pure heart and changed spirit will show up today or next month, or if it will be a gentle transformation or more something like a dove landing on my shoulder like in Touched by an Angel. What I do know is that God asks for my desire, and I believe, he'll take care of the stuff that I could only begin to scratch the surface of changing.
I don't know about anybody else, but I love naps. Cat naps, naps after meals, naps before bedtime, naps after I wake up (which may count as a continuation of sleeping), naps during commercial breaks...you get the idea. Now, I don't find anything wrong with naps, but for me, naps can often be an escape from the things that bog me down emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I have 3 essays to do before tomorrow morning? I think it's naptime. I need to study for finals? Naptime. I need to blog a couple times before I leave for six weeks to Cairo? Should I get a cup of coffee and get to it? Nah...naptime.
Sure, resting is key in maintaing a healthy body, mind, and soul. For me, I believe that there is a difference in "resting" and "resting in God." In Psalm 51, David cries to God and begs that He restores joy and gives David a willing spirit, to sustain him. As I go into the Cairo trip (and my day by day living), this passage suggests that my energy, joy, motivation comes not from naps, "You can do it" posters, or Chuck Norris video clips. Instead, as I begin to stumble and lose momentum, God offers the pick-me-up that beats the largest cup of coffee or a bottle of "Five Hour Energy."
My response to that is "Awesome! So how do I do that?..." When I'm overwhelmed by the poverty in the garbage villages or unsure how to react to what I see in Cairo, what do I do to be sustained? Do I pray "super-hard?" Maybe I shouldn't sleep and just pray all day instead...absolutely no naps? As I was looking at the passage of Psalm 51 again, I saw that verse 10 says "Create in me a pure heart...and renew a steadfast spirit." Notice it doesn't mention anything to the effect of "Reward me with gratuitous amounts of energy when I pray instead of nap. Besides, our neighbor Tim is napping right now on his hammock instead of reading his Bible, so I should get brownie points." The emphasis is placed on a passive mind and body, but an active heart. David cries out to God, and asks for Him to do something in David that no amount of human effort can accomplish: a pure heart and a passionate spirit.
Ultimately, that is what I desire. I don't know if that pure heart and changed spirit will show up today or next month, or if it will be a gentle transformation or more something like a dove landing on my shoulder like in Touched by an Angel. What I do know is that God asks for my desire, and I believe, he'll take care of the stuff that I could only begin to scratch the surface of changing.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Revisiting Ethiopia
I forgot to mention it last post, but I will only be able to blog once during my stay in Cairo. However, there will be a team blog that will chronicle the trip every week or so. The link is:
http://globalurbantrek.intervarsity.org/trek-2010/track-the-trek
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“I looked around as Bereket spoke in Amharic and I saw faces of children. But beyond those faces are futures, hopes, and dreams. As I saw Beck explaining that this was our last day, I began to get sad, which was a new emotion for me at my work site. I’ve been frustrated, angry, happy, confused at what purpose I served with these kids—but today I see souls that are beautiful beyond comprehension. Their peaceful eyes and subtle smiles as they answer questions about faith from Bereket are ones that I hadn’t paused to see in earlier days. Two boys in the front row smiled as I handed them small fragments of chalk. They doodled on their desk for awhile before one slowly erased the remnants, and then sketched out a “B” and “r.” He paused, looked at his friend, and then continued. He finished by writing an “e,” “n,” “d,” “a,” and finally an “n.” I smiled and gave a thumbs up, silently appreciating the simple gesture of writing my name in chalk.
I will never forget these kids. I won’t see the important events in their lives. I won’t be there when they make mistakes in life or when great things happen to them. I won’t be there to tell them “ZIMBALLU!” (Silence!) or “TEGAMET!” (Sit down!), but I’m okay with that. For right now, praying for them is enough for me.”
--My journal entry in the last week of my 6-week trip to Ethiopia
Eight months ago, as I sat on an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean after a six week mission trip in Ethiopia, I began pondering the things that I had seen, heard, and learned. I had seen homeless beggars, disease and sickness, and unfathomable poverty. Yet I had seen jubilant worship, kindness, and God’s hand in desperate situations. I had heard cries of despair, anger, and demonic spirits. Yet I had heard shouts of praise, wonderful Ethiopian voices, and children’s laughter. And the lessons I learned? Frustration began to surface as I realized that I wasn’t sure entirely what I learned.
There was one thing that I, and many of my companions on the trip, could say for certain: our expectations were shattered. I came into the mission trip with the same mindset as is so customary in the American society. I pondered what I could do, who I could help, how I would have a life-changing experience. Sure, I gave God some part in what might happen, but for the most part, it was how I, as a mere mortal, could make a difference in people’s lives. I envisioned the arrival of myself and my travel-mates to start a 6 week journey that encompassed touching lives, spreading the word of the Gospel, and returning home changed forever. Before I left, my friend Jobin would joke to me and say, “So are you excited to go and save the world?” Though we would both laugh, that vision of “saving the world” through a 6 week trip set up unrealistic expectations for the trip—it was pretty tough not too.
Though some of my preconceived ideas happened, they occurred in a much different, more subtle way. Let me start at the beginning, though.
When I was presented the opportunity to go on this trip during an InterVarsity Christian Fellowship event on campus nearly 16 months ago, I nearly ruled it out as a possibility. Four thousand dollars and 6 weeks in Africa? I don’t know if that’s for me, I thought. My leader, Rachel, thought otherwise and continued to throw subtle hints my way that she thought I should go. So as I mulled it over during Christmas break, I began to see the benefits of the trip. I had always wanted to do a mission trip since I was in junior high, the people that were going were really enjoyable, and I thought that this would be a great way to grow my faith.
So after deciding to go on the trip, I filled out forms, got my immunizations (which seemed less painful than the forms), attended team-building events, and fundraised the $4000 necessary to travel from generous donors like yourselves. As the departure date approached, the expectations and excitement grew.
We arrived in Addis Ababa, the capital city of Ethiopia, around 3 in the morning, so we were ready to get our 4 hours of sleep before we had to get up and see the city. As we drove to Mekane Yesus seminary where we would stay for 6 weeks, it seemed that everyone was staring outside. The airport and shopping centers faded away as we entered the poorer area of the capital and rows and rows of tin shacks began to take their place. “Well, this is it. We’re really here,” I said quietly, as the surrealism of the trip dissipated. The next day we were sent out on our own in small groups of 3 or 4 in order to get to know each other better and “map out” the city by finding certain landmarks. Since no one was fluent in Amharic (the native language) but we all knew that pointing was universal, we began to gesture and say the landmarks’ names in a question form: “Medical center?” Occasionally, we followed directions to go a certain way…until we realized we had ended up in a back alley in a foreign area. There was an interesting dynamic to the city; one of my friends made an interesting comment as we wandered: “In America, the nice houses are out in the open and the “ghettoes” are hidden. Here it’s the opposite. You see homeless people and tin shacks everywhere.”
One of the biggest things I noticed on our escapade around the city was the poverty—more specifically, the physical deformities and illnesses. I wrote in my journal: “The frequency of those with physical disabilities began to increase exponentially it seemed: Blindness, hands and fingers that were so swollen and tight that they were unable to open, and legs inoperable that forced men, women, and children to use only their arms to propel themselves forward.” As we walked by beggars, we were told not to give a lot of money to them, as this actually was just a temporary solution to a much bigger problem. As the days went by, I became more accustomed to the beggars, but I wouldn’t say I became comfortable with them. During the trip, I witnessed more begging and disabled homeless people than I had ever seen in a lifetime growing up in northwest Iowa. I still remember two people vividly: one man whose face had lost all elasticity and skin had “oozed” down his face and a woman whose eye socket had not developed properly which caused her eye to nearly be on the side of her face. The issues of the sick, the homeless, and the poor were continually on our minds and in our prayers throughout our trip.
Getting around the capital city soon became a lot easier with the arrival of our Ethiopian roommates a few days later. Each American student was paired with an Ethiopian student, and they stayed with each other for about 5 weeks—enough time to get to know each other and cultures very well. This was a great experience, because it stretched many of the predetermined thoughts we had about how the Ethiopians would act, think, etc., and vice versa. I remember one conversation that I had with my roommate and his friend about how they thought the American students would all need a bountiful amount of help with things like carrying luggage, getting around town; they were surprised to find that we were actually quite capable! Our American assumptions that they would all be relatively poor and would be much spiritually inclined were slightly off. Many of them had mp3 players or cameras and were not as underprivileged as we thought, and while they were very spiritual, they had the same struggles as many of the American students. One thing we all had in common, though, was a passion for doing God’s work in Ethiopia! The Americans also learned some cultural nuances as well, one of which was “gusha,” an act of hand-feeding a friend at the table to show respect. We fell in love it—I can’t even count how many times we yelled “GUSHA” and stuffed a ball of anjera (a spongy, sourdough bread that looked like a pancake) and beef in someone else’s mouth.
A few days after the Ethiopians arrived, we were assigned to our work sites, which was where we spent all of Monday, Wednesday, and half of Tuesday and Thursday. Some of the students worked at an adoption agency that was designed to have students adopted by American families while some worked at an orphanage where they taught classes, played with the kids, and most importantly showed love. Another group worked with Win Souls, a great organization to house and feed the homeless and former prostitutes. The work site that 5 other people and I went to was a public school where about fifty Compassion International children attended.
When we first arrived at the Compassion International site, the director of the program explained to us what Compassion did, as well as what we would be doing. When he informed us that we would be teaching classes to the children, I assumed that we would teach alongside a normal teacher. I soon found that I was slightly off: the six of us students would be teaching four different age groups—by ourselves. I wasn’t teaching math, but I could figure out that four age groups minus the three Ethiopians in our work site group equaled one non-native speaking teacher. The first day that we taught the children was both exciting and amazingly confusing. The person who had to teach by himself on the first day was me. So, to say that I was nervous about teaching biology in English to students who didn’t speak English is an understatement. The first couple of days were pretty rough: there was a lot of hand gesturing and slow speaking from both myself and the students. Eventually I came to the realization that me being in the classroom was less about teaching them about biology and more about having fun and getting to know the kids. This insight led to a much more relaxed atmosphere with soccer, marbles, and teaching the kids the “Father Abraham” song. Over the days, I came to understand the kids much better without comprehending all of their words.
Even so, there was a still a sense of uncertainty in what we were accomplishing in Ethiopia in many of the Ethiopian and American students’ hearts, including mine. What were we doing that was worth us traveling halfway across the world? Were we doing God’s work? These were some of the questions that we had about halfway through the trip. It wasn’t as if we were regretting the trip, but many of us, myself included, expected amazing things to happen frequently. When I didn’t see sight restored to the blind or many children asking about Jesus, I got fearful that I was useless. I remember many conversations I had during and after the trip while trying to sort out my emotions.
Robel, one of the Ethiopian leaders, always had others on his mind and was always concerned with how people were doing. One night he knocked on my door, sat down, and asked how I was. After describing my confusion at my work site, he told me the story about when he was a mechanical engineer student. When metal was super heated, it must be hammered into submission and dipped into cold water—which is “surely uncomfortable.” In the end, the metal cools and is “super strong.” “Perhaps this will happen to you,” he said. An InterVarsity area director, Jon Hietbrink, sat down with me after the trip and asked me how things were going after getting back to the States. I admitted that I still struggled with determining the exact purpose of the trip, and was trying to incorporate things I witnessed in Ethiopia into my life in Iowa.
He listened quietly, and then responded. “After reading a few of the team’s emails and listening to the same frustrations, I thought and prayed about the same questions you had. What were you suppose to learn? You chose to spend half of your summer in Ethiopia, and it can’t be for nothing!” he said, pausing to offer a possible answer. “What if the reason that you went over was simply obedience? Obedience to God by choosing to follow where He called you to go?” I hadn’t thought about the trip like that before. Was it simply just to demonstrate that I wanted to really be completely “entrusting” to God? It provided a sense of comfort to know that even if I wasn’t sure of the reason for it, my trip definitely served a purpose.
About a month ago, I was getting ready for church and thinking again of the trip to Ethiopia and about how I needed to write this summary letter. I wasn’t entirely sure of a way to do it, so I put off thinking about it until after church. The sermon in church that day just happened to be about Hebrews 11:8-14, which talks about the faith that Abraham had during the course of his life.
As the pastor explained the passage, it dawned on me that it described very well my trip to Ethiopia. This passage is about waiting: waiting for something that is longed for. I clearly had my own desires for the trip—maybe it was a desire to see something great or to have a greater purpose and do well for other people. However, in Colossians in the Bible it says to keep the mind on heavenly things, just as Abraham did when he was called by God to travel to a foreign land and obeyed.
As I listened to the pastor speak, I took away four things about my trip that were just like Abraham and his trip to a foreign land:
The trip was something that came from God because of the longing and desire he instilled in me, just like Abraham traveled to a foreign land (verse 8). I had no clue what I was getting myself into, but because of the longing in my heart, I went anyways.
The longing I had was something that could not simply be satisfied by earthly things. The desire to do God’s work was not satisfied when I taught children or gave money to the poor. Though I didn’t realize it then, I was being reminded that this world is not my permanent place (verse 9-10). So while I work wholeheartedly to do what I can in this world, I know that any desire I have to change this world will not be satisfied…yet.
Abraham and Sarah were convinced that God had plans and would be faithful, so as time went on, their longing to do God’s call swelled (verse 11-12.) Similarly, my desire to do God’s work increased the longer I was over there, as well as after I came back home. As I saw the possibilities of what God has in store for me, I began to want to do more for him. Whether it be raising awareness of AIDS or hunger in my community or serving the poor as a doctor in Africa in the future, I just know that I know want a bigger role in his plan here on earth.
Finally, the desire and longing to do more will only be satisfied by God–not by my own actions. Even if I work as a doctor in Ethiopia, but that’s not God’s purpose, I will still not be satisfied; Obedience is the key to doing His will. Even then, I may still not find what I’m hoping for. Just as Abraham did not receive his blessings here on earth (verses 13-14), I do not know when the promises will be fulfilled. I do know, though, that God is the One who can fulfill them.
When I look back on the Ethiopia trip and try to encapsulate or sum up what I saw, heard, and learned, it feels like trying to understand how big the universe is. I’ve learned to take everything I experienced for what it was: the poverty and disease in the city, the kindness and faith of the Ethiopian people, the hope of a bright future of the Compassion students. I did not change the world with my words, I did not solve the poverty crisis in six weeks—heck, I didn’t even figure out how to eat the native food the proper way for at least a week! What I did find was a desire to pray, think, read, talk, and learn more about poverty and the things that I can do. Though I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of what God wants me to learn, it’s a start. And I’m okay with a start.
God Bless,
Brendan George
http://globalurbantrek.intervarsity.org/trek-2010/track-the-trek
I also wanted to give those of you who haven't read my summary from my trip to Ethiopia 2 years ago a chance to look at what I felt like I learned from that experience (sorry if it's too long!). I found it fascinating as I was re-reading it because of the things that I had forgotten about which I was reminded of. Enjoy...
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“I looked around as Bereket spoke in Amharic and I saw faces of children. But beyond those faces are futures, hopes, and dreams. As I saw Beck explaining that this was our last day, I began to get sad, which was a new emotion for me at my work site. I’ve been frustrated, angry, happy, confused at what purpose I served with these kids—but today I see souls that are beautiful beyond comprehension. Their peaceful eyes and subtle smiles as they answer questions about faith from Bereket are ones that I hadn’t paused to see in earlier days. Two boys in the front row smiled as I handed them small fragments of chalk. They doodled on their desk for awhile before one slowly erased the remnants, and then sketched out a “B” and “r.” He paused, looked at his friend, and then continued. He finished by writing an “e,” “n,” “d,” “a,” and finally an “n.” I smiled and gave a thumbs up, silently appreciating the simple gesture of writing my name in chalk.
I will never forget these kids. I won’t see the important events in their lives. I won’t be there when they make mistakes in life or when great things happen to them. I won’t be there to tell them “ZIMBALLU!” (Silence!) or “TEGAMET!” (Sit down!), but I’m okay with that. For right now, praying for them is enough for me.”
--My journal entry in the last week of my 6-week trip to Ethiopia
Eight months ago, as I sat on an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean after a six week mission trip in Ethiopia, I began pondering the things that I had seen, heard, and learned. I had seen homeless beggars, disease and sickness, and unfathomable poverty. Yet I had seen jubilant worship, kindness, and God’s hand in desperate situations. I had heard cries of despair, anger, and demonic spirits. Yet I had heard shouts of praise, wonderful Ethiopian voices, and children’s laughter. And the lessons I learned? Frustration began to surface as I realized that I wasn’t sure entirely what I learned.
There was one thing that I, and many of my companions on the trip, could say for certain: our expectations were shattered. I came into the mission trip with the same mindset as is so customary in the American society. I pondered what I could do, who I could help, how I would have a life-changing experience. Sure, I gave God some part in what might happen, but for the most part, it was how I, as a mere mortal, could make a difference in people’s lives. I envisioned the arrival of myself and my travel-mates to start a 6 week journey that encompassed touching lives, spreading the word of the Gospel, and returning home changed forever. Before I left, my friend Jobin would joke to me and say, “So are you excited to go and save the world?” Though we would both laugh, that vision of “saving the world” through a 6 week trip set up unrealistic expectations for the trip—it was pretty tough not too.
Though some of my preconceived ideas happened, they occurred in a much different, more subtle way. Let me start at the beginning, though.
When I was presented the opportunity to go on this trip during an InterVarsity Christian Fellowship event on campus nearly 16 months ago, I nearly ruled it out as a possibility. Four thousand dollars and 6 weeks in Africa? I don’t know if that’s for me, I thought. My leader, Rachel, thought otherwise and continued to throw subtle hints my way that she thought I should go. So as I mulled it over during Christmas break, I began to see the benefits of the trip. I had always wanted to do a mission trip since I was in junior high, the people that were going were really enjoyable, and I thought that this would be a great way to grow my faith.
So after deciding to go on the trip, I filled out forms, got my immunizations (which seemed less painful than the forms), attended team-building events, and fundraised the $4000 necessary to travel from generous donors like yourselves. As the departure date approached, the expectations and excitement grew.
We arrived in Addis Ababa, the capital city of Ethiopia, around 3 in the morning, so we were ready to get our 4 hours of sleep before we had to get up and see the city. As we drove to Mekane Yesus seminary where we would stay for 6 weeks, it seemed that everyone was staring outside. The airport and shopping centers faded away as we entered the poorer area of the capital and rows and rows of tin shacks began to take their place. “Well, this is it. We’re really here,” I said quietly, as the surrealism of the trip dissipated. The next day we were sent out on our own in small groups of 3 or 4 in order to get to know each other better and “map out” the city by finding certain landmarks. Since no one was fluent in Amharic (the native language) but we all knew that pointing was universal, we began to gesture and say the landmarks’ names in a question form: “Medical center?” Occasionally, we followed directions to go a certain way…until we realized we had ended up in a back alley in a foreign area. There was an interesting dynamic to the city; one of my friends made an interesting comment as we wandered: “In America, the nice houses are out in the open and the “ghettoes” are hidden. Here it’s the opposite. You see homeless people and tin shacks everywhere.”
One of the biggest things I noticed on our escapade around the city was the poverty—more specifically, the physical deformities and illnesses. I wrote in my journal: “The frequency of those with physical disabilities began to increase exponentially it seemed: Blindness, hands and fingers that were so swollen and tight that they were unable to open, and legs inoperable that forced men, women, and children to use only their arms to propel themselves forward.” As we walked by beggars, we were told not to give a lot of money to them, as this actually was just a temporary solution to a much bigger problem. As the days went by, I became more accustomed to the beggars, but I wouldn’t say I became comfortable with them. During the trip, I witnessed more begging and disabled homeless people than I had ever seen in a lifetime growing up in northwest Iowa. I still remember two people vividly: one man whose face had lost all elasticity and skin had “oozed” down his face and a woman whose eye socket had not developed properly which caused her eye to nearly be on the side of her face. The issues of the sick, the homeless, and the poor were continually on our minds and in our prayers throughout our trip.
Getting around the capital city soon became a lot easier with the arrival of our Ethiopian roommates a few days later. Each American student was paired with an Ethiopian student, and they stayed with each other for about 5 weeks—enough time to get to know each other and cultures very well. This was a great experience, because it stretched many of the predetermined thoughts we had about how the Ethiopians would act, think, etc., and vice versa. I remember one conversation that I had with my roommate and his friend about how they thought the American students would all need a bountiful amount of help with things like carrying luggage, getting around town; they were surprised to find that we were actually quite capable! Our American assumptions that they would all be relatively poor and would be much spiritually inclined were slightly off. Many of them had mp3 players or cameras and were not as underprivileged as we thought, and while they were very spiritual, they had the same struggles as many of the American students. One thing we all had in common, though, was a passion for doing God’s work in Ethiopia! The Americans also learned some cultural nuances as well, one of which was “gusha,” an act of hand-feeding a friend at the table to show respect. We fell in love it—I can’t even count how many times we yelled “GUSHA” and stuffed a ball of anjera (a spongy, sourdough bread that looked like a pancake) and beef in someone else’s mouth.
A few days after the Ethiopians arrived, we were assigned to our work sites, which was where we spent all of Monday, Wednesday, and half of Tuesday and Thursday. Some of the students worked at an adoption agency that was designed to have students adopted by American families while some worked at an orphanage where they taught classes, played with the kids, and most importantly showed love. Another group worked with Win Souls, a great organization to house and feed the homeless and former prostitutes. The work site that 5 other people and I went to was a public school where about fifty Compassion International children attended.
When we first arrived at the Compassion International site, the director of the program explained to us what Compassion did, as well as what we would be doing. When he informed us that we would be teaching classes to the children, I assumed that we would teach alongside a normal teacher. I soon found that I was slightly off: the six of us students would be teaching four different age groups—by ourselves. I wasn’t teaching math, but I could figure out that four age groups minus the three Ethiopians in our work site group equaled one non-native speaking teacher. The first day that we taught the children was both exciting and amazingly confusing. The person who had to teach by himself on the first day was me. So, to say that I was nervous about teaching biology in English to students who didn’t speak English is an understatement. The first couple of days were pretty rough: there was a lot of hand gesturing and slow speaking from both myself and the students. Eventually I came to the realization that me being in the classroom was less about teaching them about biology and more about having fun and getting to know the kids. This insight led to a much more relaxed atmosphere with soccer, marbles, and teaching the kids the “Father Abraham” song. Over the days, I came to understand the kids much better without comprehending all of their words.
Even so, there was a still a sense of uncertainty in what we were accomplishing in Ethiopia in many of the Ethiopian and American students’ hearts, including mine. What were we doing that was worth us traveling halfway across the world? Were we doing God’s work? These were some of the questions that we had about halfway through the trip. It wasn’t as if we were regretting the trip, but many of us, myself included, expected amazing things to happen frequently. When I didn’t see sight restored to the blind or many children asking about Jesus, I got fearful that I was useless. I remember many conversations I had during and after the trip while trying to sort out my emotions.
Robel, one of the Ethiopian leaders, always had others on his mind and was always concerned with how people were doing. One night he knocked on my door, sat down, and asked how I was. After describing my confusion at my work site, he told me the story about when he was a mechanical engineer student. When metal was super heated, it must be hammered into submission and dipped into cold water—which is “surely uncomfortable.” In the end, the metal cools and is “super strong.” “Perhaps this will happen to you,” he said. An InterVarsity area director, Jon Hietbrink, sat down with me after the trip and asked me how things were going after getting back to the States. I admitted that I still struggled with determining the exact purpose of the trip, and was trying to incorporate things I witnessed in Ethiopia into my life in Iowa.
He listened quietly, and then responded. “After reading a few of the team’s emails and listening to the same frustrations, I thought and prayed about the same questions you had. What were you suppose to learn? You chose to spend half of your summer in Ethiopia, and it can’t be for nothing!” he said, pausing to offer a possible answer. “What if the reason that you went over was simply obedience? Obedience to God by choosing to follow where He called you to go?” I hadn’t thought about the trip like that before. Was it simply just to demonstrate that I wanted to really be completely “entrusting” to God? It provided a sense of comfort to know that even if I wasn’t sure of the reason for it, my trip definitely served a purpose.
About a month ago, I was getting ready for church and thinking again of the trip to Ethiopia and about how I needed to write this summary letter. I wasn’t entirely sure of a way to do it, so I put off thinking about it until after church. The sermon in church that day just happened to be about Hebrews 11:8-14, which talks about the faith that Abraham had during the course of his life.
As the pastor explained the passage, it dawned on me that it described very well my trip to Ethiopia. This passage is about waiting: waiting for something that is longed for. I clearly had my own desires for the trip—maybe it was a desire to see something great or to have a greater purpose and do well for other people. However, in Colossians in the Bible it says to keep the mind on heavenly things, just as Abraham did when he was called by God to travel to a foreign land and obeyed.
As I listened to the pastor speak, I took away four things about my trip that were just like Abraham and his trip to a foreign land:
The trip was something that came from God because of the longing and desire he instilled in me, just like Abraham traveled to a foreign land (verse 8). I had no clue what I was getting myself into, but because of the longing in my heart, I went anyways.
The longing I had was something that could not simply be satisfied by earthly things. The desire to do God’s work was not satisfied when I taught children or gave money to the poor. Though I didn’t realize it then, I was being reminded that this world is not my permanent place (verse 9-10). So while I work wholeheartedly to do what I can in this world, I know that any desire I have to change this world will not be satisfied…yet.
Abraham and Sarah were convinced that God had plans and would be faithful, so as time went on, their longing to do God’s call swelled (verse 11-12.) Similarly, my desire to do God’s work increased the longer I was over there, as well as after I came back home. As I saw the possibilities of what God has in store for me, I began to want to do more for him. Whether it be raising awareness of AIDS or hunger in my community or serving the poor as a doctor in Africa in the future, I just know that I know want a bigger role in his plan here on earth.
Finally, the desire and longing to do more will only be satisfied by God–not by my own actions. Even if I work as a doctor in Ethiopia, but that’s not God’s purpose, I will still not be satisfied; Obedience is the key to doing His will. Even then, I may still not find what I’m hoping for. Just as Abraham did not receive his blessings here on earth (verses 13-14), I do not know when the promises will be fulfilled. I do know, though, that God is the One who can fulfill them.
When I look back on the Ethiopia trip and try to encapsulate or sum up what I saw, heard, and learned, it feels like trying to understand how big the universe is. I’ve learned to take everything I experienced for what it was: the poverty and disease in the city, the kindness and faith of the Ethiopian people, the hope of a bright future of the Compassion students. I did not change the world with my words, I did not solve the poverty crisis in six weeks—heck, I didn’t even figure out how to eat the native food the proper way for at least a week! What I did find was a desire to pray, think, read, talk, and learn more about poverty and the things that I can do. Though I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of what God wants me to learn, it’s a start. And I’m okay with a start.
God Bless,
Brendan George
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Just Give Up!
I want to apologize to the handful of people who read my first blog posting and sat around by their computers day and night in anticipation of the next post. It’s been awhile to say the least, and I promise to fire a few more before I leave on June 15th.
A few weeks ago, I traveled to Roach, Missouri, for an InterVarsity conference that was designed to prepare students for the next year on campus and performing campus ministry outreach. For me, it was more of a week of introspection. Throughout the week, I learned different spiritual disciplines and practiced being “quiet” and listening to God. For me, this was somewhat difficult. For those that know how I love to talk, it was tough to realize that being quiet didn’t mean that I should keep talking and praying, as long as I whispered. It also didn’t mean that I should pray a bunch, try to hear an audible voice of God (which I assume sounds a lot like Morgan Freeman) for a minute, and continue on my wish list to God. What I instead found was that truly listening and being still in God’s presence meant shutting out my hectic and get-things-done lifestyle for awhile. Was it awkward, uncomfortable, and frustrating? Yes, yes, and yes. Growing up, I just assumed if God needed to tell me something, He would put it on a scrolling billboard on the side of the road; I hardly considered it possible to “hear” from Him. When I kept myself quiet for longer than a few seconds, however, I began to realize that I had something important to learn. The lesson indirectly related to my trip to Cairo. What I found was that as I got quieter, God didn’t necessarily get louder—but He did get my attention.
To be honest, I’m kind of scared for this mission trip. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing, or how I will be used. In a certain way, I don’t believe that I can be used—I have tons of faults and am certainly no Mother Theresa! If I struggle to wake up for my 10 AM classes sometimes and forget to do laundry, how am I supposed to bless people in poverty-stricken parts of Cairo? Within that fear, God spoke to me in the silence. No, not with the Morgan Freeman “This is God” voice, but in a quiet, reassuring feeling of love. For me, the insecurities I have about myself can block out any belief that God can do good through me. It was almost as if He was saying: I love you—not for who you aren’t, but for who you are—My child, who I made and love. In other words, I have no clue what I will do, who I will bless, or what I will learn in Cairo, but what I do know is that God will be with me—His love, strength, and grace to cover my weaknesses.
So, yeah, I wait way too long to do my laundry, I’m judgmental at times, and instead of running to God in tough times, I tend to freak out. The crazy thing about this is that God says to me (and everyone): I’ll take you—all of it. The good parts, the bad parts, and the parts that you have no clue what to do with. Let me deal with that. Just let me have you.
That is my prayer for this trip. I pray that I may surrender what I think is needed to make this trip “successful” and instead allow God to do what He needs to do.
A few weeks ago, I traveled to Roach, Missouri, for an InterVarsity conference that was designed to prepare students for the next year on campus and performing campus ministry outreach. For me, it was more of a week of introspection. Throughout the week, I learned different spiritual disciplines and practiced being “quiet” and listening to God. For me, this was somewhat difficult. For those that know how I love to talk, it was tough to realize that being quiet didn’t mean that I should keep talking and praying, as long as I whispered. It also didn’t mean that I should pray a bunch, try to hear an audible voice of God (which I assume sounds a lot like Morgan Freeman) for a minute, and continue on my wish list to God. What I instead found was that truly listening and being still in God’s presence meant shutting out my hectic and get-things-done lifestyle for awhile. Was it awkward, uncomfortable, and frustrating? Yes, yes, and yes. Growing up, I just assumed if God needed to tell me something, He would put it on a scrolling billboard on the side of the road; I hardly considered it possible to “hear” from Him. When I kept myself quiet for longer than a few seconds, however, I began to realize that I had something important to learn. The lesson indirectly related to my trip to Cairo. What I found was that as I got quieter, God didn’t necessarily get louder—but He did get my attention.
To be honest, I’m kind of scared for this mission trip. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing, or how I will be used. In a certain way, I don’t believe that I can be used—I have tons of faults and am certainly no Mother Theresa! If I struggle to wake up for my 10 AM classes sometimes and forget to do laundry, how am I supposed to bless people in poverty-stricken parts of Cairo? Within that fear, God spoke to me in the silence. No, not with the Morgan Freeman “This is God” voice, but in a quiet, reassuring feeling of love. For me, the insecurities I have about myself can block out any belief that God can do good through me. It was almost as if He was saying: I love you—not for who you aren’t, but for who you are—My child, who I made and love. In other words, I have no clue what I will do, who I will bless, or what I will learn in Cairo, but what I do know is that God will be with me—His love, strength, and grace to cover my weaknesses.
So, yeah, I wait way too long to do my laundry, I’m judgmental at times, and instead of running to God in tough times, I tend to freak out. The crazy thing about this is that God says to me (and everyone): I’ll take you—all of it. The good parts, the bad parts, and the parts that you have no clue what to do with. Let me deal with that. Just let me have you.
That is my prayer for this trip. I pray that I may surrender what I think is needed to make this trip “successful” and instead allow God to do what He needs to do.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
And so it begins...
Nervousness? Uncertainty? Excitement? "Should I really be doing this?"
Yeah, all of those things crossed my mind as I began to send out my letters for fundraising. I wasn't exactly sure what I was getting myself into until I got the full description packet for the trip. Am I pumped to go and serve in Egypt? Absolutely. However, when people ask me how Egypt will be, I usually say something along the lines of: "It will be kind of like what I did in Ethiopia a couple summers ago--except for it being on steroids," or "You know the show Survivor where they drop you in the middle of an unknown land? It's kind of like that, except for with spiritual goals."
The most confusing responses I get when I say that I'm going on a mission trip to Cairo, Egypt, is the "Oh, that will be fun!" Inside I disagree, but outside I agree, adding that it will be challenging and rewarding. I guess I don't blame them for saying that--they don't know that there are whole societies based on recycling large heaps of trash (and neither did I before this year). But for me, fun is golfing as the dew is on the ground and the sun is lifting above the horizon. Fun is taking a nap on a rainy day. Fun is not going blindly into a foreign land, living in poverty for 6 weeks and trying to fathom how bad the situation is in the garbage cities of Cairo. Eye-opening, challenging? Yes. Fun, no.
That sounds like what Jesus did, though, eh? Going into a foreign nation, becoming poor, living in some pretty bad economical situations, and being viewed as an outsider, a traitor, a threat to society. Oh yeah, and then dying on a cross? It makes what I'm doing look like a vacation to Cozumel.
Yeah, all of those things crossed my mind as I began to send out my letters for fundraising. I wasn't exactly sure what I was getting myself into until I got the full description packet for the trip. Am I pumped to go and serve in Egypt? Absolutely. However, when people ask me how Egypt will be, I usually say something along the lines of: "It will be kind of like what I did in Ethiopia a couple summers ago--except for it being on steroids," or "You know the show Survivor where they drop you in the middle of an unknown land? It's kind of like that, except for with spiritual goals."
The most confusing responses I get when I say that I'm going on a mission trip to Cairo, Egypt, is the "Oh, that will be fun!" Inside I disagree, but outside I agree, adding that it will be challenging and rewarding. I guess I don't blame them for saying that--they don't know that there are whole societies based on recycling large heaps of trash (and neither did I before this year). But for me, fun is golfing as the dew is on the ground and the sun is lifting above the horizon. Fun is taking a nap on a rainy day. Fun is not going blindly into a foreign land, living in poverty for 6 weeks and trying to fathom how bad the situation is in the garbage cities of Cairo. Eye-opening, challenging? Yes. Fun, no.
That sounds like what Jesus did, though, eh? Going into a foreign nation, becoming poor, living in some pretty bad economical situations, and being viewed as an outsider, a traitor, a threat to society. Oh yeah, and then dying on a cross? It makes what I'm doing look like a vacation to Cozumel.
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