Out of Juice

Out of Juice

Two days ago I had a small cultural experience. 

We are staying temporarily in a small office building. They removed the office furniture and put beds in them. Wala! Bedrooms. There is a bathroom and small kitchen.  

Our electricity went out. This happens at least three times per day, so we did not think about it. Typically it is out for less than thirty minutes. The power grid does rolling brown-outs and rolling black-outs. The city decreases the amount of electricity available to different areas. That is called a brown-out. Black-outs are self-explanatory. 

So, we lose power often. We tried to figure out some schedule, but the logic of timing eludes us. 

Back to the story. Power goes out. No big deal. It does not come back on. The conference center uses a huge diesel generator if the power stays out too long. It is across the parking lot, but so loud it can be heard for half a mile. We always hear it kick in and moments later have power. It did not turn on. 

I heard a knock at our door after an hour. 

“You are out of power.” Nimpass, the maintenance man, told me.

“I know. How long before it comes back on do you think?”

“No, Daddy.” (Many people call me Daddy and Denise Mommy as terms of respect. I like it. People we lead to Jesus call us that the rest of their lives) “You are out of power. It is Saturday, so I do not think anyone will answer the phone. You used your power.”

It confused me a little. I could tell I did not understand the message he attempted to communicate. “Show me what you mean.” I said.

He took me to the meter and explained. The photo above is the real deal. It is our meter. Here is it in a nutshell. 

In the States, we use electricity all month long. At the end of the month, they read our meter and tell us how much money we owe. We pay after the fact.

In Ghana, you pay in advance. You tell the electric company you will use $100 worth of power this month. They credit your meter with $100. If you reach your prepaid amount, the power turns off. You must go to the electric company and buy more credit.

We used it all up with four days left in the month. Out of money but not days. 

“The office might be closed.” Nimpass said. “I can try.” 

I gave him $100. We do not know yet how much we use. Electricity is about twice as much as it is in the States. I think our two offices will end up using about $300 a month because we have window unit air conditioners. 

The office was open and the electricity came back on in about 45 minutes. 

I thought of this. It is a great illustration of why we need to stay connected to Christ and filled with the Holy Spirit. In Ephesians, God tells us to “Be filled with the Spirit”. Literally it says in the Greek, “Keep on being filled with the Spirit”. 

God knows circumstances, people, problems, life, sinful world, influences, etc., tend to drain us. We connect with Him and get a charge. Our spiritual batteries are full. Then, life drains us. 

We lose juice.

We lose power.

This is why we must ‘walk’ in the Holy Spirit. God tells us to ‘abide’ in Him, in Christ and in the Holy Spirit. It is a moment by moment, non-stop power supply.

So, if you feel spiritually drained, it is probably because you simply ran out of juice. The connection broke. It is time to resupply. 

 

Leia Mais…

Shocked by Culture Shock

 

Culture Shock

What is it? 

Why is it a big deal?

Dictionary.com defines it as “a state of bewilderment and distress experienced by an individual who is suddenly exposed to a new, strange, or foreign social and cultural environment.”



It is a huge thing. 

It is one of the main struggles missionaries face in the first two years of their term. 

I remember when we first moved to Bolivia. We lived there two years and Denise and I returned to the States for a funeral. I did not realize how much culture shock and stress I lived under until I found myself relaxed and unstressed. I told Denise, “I did not know how stressed and pressured my brain was until the pressure was released. I do not have to translate signs. I know what to expect on the road. I am not rehearsing dialogue in my mind before walking to the checkout stand. I know where to find cereal. I feel free.”

After a few years in Bolivia, Denise and I did a little missionary training, spoke at a few workshops from different agencies and helped other missionaries. We always spent time on Culture Shock. 

Here is how I describe it. 

Imagine you are swimming in the ocean. You look up and see a shark fin. You go under and verify it. There is a pretty good sized shark swimming near, around and maybe at you. You have a problem. There is a shark. The shark is your problem. You have to deal with the shark. Problem = Shark. 

Now, imagine you are swimming in the river. You feel a little nip on your leg. You look down. You realize that you are in a bad situation. The river is full of piranhas. There are thousands of them swirling and swimming around you. You do not have a big problem, such as one shark, to avoid. There are thousands of little problems. Problem = ????

Which piranha do you focus on?

Which piranha bite is the fatal one? 

One bite is not an issue. It probably would not even need a stitch. It isn’t one little bite. You have 873 little bites and they keep coming back.

That is culture shock. 

I remember in Bolivia, I was 44 years old when we arrived. Denise and I walked to language school. On the way, in the center of the city, there was a small store which sold mainly soft drinks to pedestrians. I asked for a Coke Zero. I had to ask, including pointing, three times and they still did not understand me. 

I turned away and started boo-hoo crying. Full grown man. In public. Bawling like a baby. In between sobs I told Denise, “I can’t even buy a coke. How can I preach the gospel or teach people anything if I can’t even buy a coke! I am supposed to be a communicator and I can’t even buy a coke!”

It wasn’t the coke. 
The inability to buy the coke was the piranha bite that put me over the edge. 

Advertisers in the States struggle with one main thing. They must break through the mundane and ordinary you are used to in order to get your attention. Billions of dollars are spent each year trying to get you to notice the product. This is because we go through life and become immune to the ordinary things. 

Think about the last time you drove somewhere. Better yet, the last time you  were a passenger. 

• How much of the time in the car do you remember? 
• How much did the passing landscape get your attention? 
• What did you look at? 
• What did you really notice? 

Most likely, nothing. Sometimes we arrive at our destination and don’t even remember the drive. 

Contrast that with us, right now, in Ghana. 

All. I use that huge word on purpose. All. All of our input is different. 

Everything demands atttention, focus, processing and thought. 

All five senses are screaming at us and all at the same time. It is sensory overload. 

Sight, sound, smell…the three big ones, are totally overwhelmed. 

This morning we went to Immigration in order to get National Id Cards. 

All along the drive you see vendor after vendor beside the road. These small stands the size of the shed you keep your lawn mower and garden tools stored sell thousands of different items. They demand attention. 

Store after store with little children playing in the dirt beside the highway. 

Hundreds of people walking with products balanced on the top of their head. 

Deals and purchases made. 

The smell of metal working, rubber burning, wood cutting, goat cooking, food processing, urine, feces, dirt and wood fires all rush into your nostrils at the same time. 

At the traffic signal, peddlers come to your window and push their product. Blind people led by their children ask for money. People crippled by polio, accidents or disease stand at your window and look at you. They do not move. They do not break eye contact. They stand three inches from your window and stare at you as they wait for a donation. 

Children, whose parents are vendors or beggars, play in the dirt two feet from your tire. 

All along the way are three wheeled motorcycle taxis. I would say the taxis outnumber the cars 3 to 1. They do not follow all of the traffic laws and I have to stay focused on them because I do not know what they will do next. 

Motorcycles outnumber cars 20 to 1. Thousands of motorcycles zoom around. They pass on both sides, use the sidewalk, zoom between you and the car beside you, turn in front of you, and constantly break every traffic law on the books. 

The entire time, pedestrians play the old game, “Frogger”, as they cross the street little by little. People are on the side of the road, on the middle stripe, in between lanes, and on the median. They are walking perpendicular to your path and if they do not veer or slow you will hit them. 

A wheel chair with peddles designed for hands to power it is in the right lane because there are no sidewalks or ADA. 

A child runs into the street for their soccer ball causing a taxi and moto to bump into each other 20’ in front of me.  

Music, vendors, the Mosque call to prayer, angry pedestrians, horns, babies crying and tires squealing all hit your ear drums in an incessant beat. 

Even the make of the automobiles are different. You don’t see Ford, Dodge, or Chevrolet here. Motorcycles come from China. 

This, all of this above, happened in my 15 minute drive to immigration. I just wrote it all out in a word purge. 

Now, factor in skin color, dress, language, and use of English is all different. We cannot even just take English for granted because our English is different than Ghanaian pronunciation. 

We go to the market and Muslim men ask me to give them my daughters. 

I want to buy meat. The butcher is a teenager beside the road with a machete in one hand and a dead cow on a fallen tree in front of him. No nice meat department with various cuts named, packaged, priced and labeled. I don’t even know what part of the cow I want. 

Probably 75% of our meals in the States and Bolivia consisted of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. They do not exist here. 

The largest grocery store in town does not have a frozen food, meat, bread or dairy department. All of those are purchased on the street. 

Look at the above paragraphs again. I literally wrote this in a five minute dump of what happened this morning on the way to Immigration. 

This is Culture Shock. 

It is sensory overload. 

Too much input. 

Advertisers try to get you to notice one thing. We can’t stop noticing everything. It is too much. This is why we have headaches at night.

Now, add in other elements of culture which are different, language school, and learning culture. Coming this with missing friends and family. 

That is culture shock. 

That is why it is a big deal. 

It has a way of making you fondly remember and then start longing for “Home”. It can wreck a ministry. 

What is the solution to it? 

We lived through it and taught others how to live through it.

Embrace it. 

Refuse to compare/contrast. It is not right/wrong, better/worse. 

It is here/there. We are here so be all here. 

The only real solution? Push through it until the drive to Immigration demands as much of my attention as your drive to Walmart took of yours. Live in the culture until it is no longer foreign. 

Just keep on.

You can also pray for us. That would be cool. :) 

Leia Mais…

Who Impresses You And Why?

I had something happen to me a while back, before I moved to Ghana. It was an interesting study in culture. 

My flight to Bolivia was canceled because of mechanical failure. American Airlines had to rebook me. Unfortunately, it took them four days to get me on a plane. Fortunately, because they were rebooking me as soon as possible, the only seat open was one in first class. 

At the airport, while I was waiting, there was something happening. It was obvious that someone important was on my flight. There was a man that people kept sheepishly approaching and asking to take photographs. One person asked him to say hello to her sister on the phone. People were getting autographs. I just sat and watched. 

We got on the plane and got settled into our seats. This man was traveling with five other people. He ended up sitting in first class besides me. I looked closely at him as we settled in, offered him my hand and introduced myself. He shook my hand and told me his name. 

After we were in the air I began talking to him. I said, "Can I tell you something? I do not know who you are, but you are obviously famous. I was watching you at the airport, and I just wanted to tell you that I was impressed with how you handled all those people. You were gracious. You were kind. You never seemed to be rattled. You even talked on the phone to someone's sister. I was impressed, not with who you are, but with the way that you were so nice to people who interrupted your conversations and interfered with your vacation."

He said that he appreciated the kind words. He told me that he learned a long time ago that you could either be nice to your fans, or mean to them, and being mean was not what he wanted to do. So, as much as possible he tried to be nice. 

I asked him his name again and he told me. I said, "Please don't be offended, but I have no idea who you are. What do you do? Are you a movie star, on broadway, an athlete, a singer?" (at this point, his friend in the sit in front of us laughed out loud and looked at me, then laughed again). 

He said, "I am a singer." I asked him what genre and he told me. Once again I said, "I have not ever heard of you, but I have lived in Bolivia as a missionary for almost ten years. We don't have television and the radio is simply local Spanish stations. My internet is too slow for internet radio. So I apologize for not knowing who you are. Are you, like, really famous or just a little famous." He, with embarrassment on his face said, "I really can't deny it. I am really famous. I guess you could say that I am known all over the world." I replied, "Is that good or bad?" He said that it was both. 

At this point, we just started talking. I asked him various things about his story, background, family and life. He asked me about missions and my ministry. I shared my testimony about how I came to know Christ and he told me that he had given his life to Christ as a child. We just chatted. 

I was thinking about this later. As I told people what happened and who he was, they always got excited. They asked if I took a selfie with him. I honestly did not think about it. They wanted to know if I got his autograph. I seriously did not care.

I was amazed at how impressed people were that I sat next to him. They wanted to know what he was like and what he said. I had celebrity proximity fame. 

Why? What is the big deal about being a good singer? Why are we impressed with fame?

I titled this, Who Impresses You And Why? I think that this is something worth considering. 

I am being open when I say that I am impressed by the faithful poor. By people that love Christ with all their hearts with no tangible reason to do so. They live in squalor and joy. That impresses me. 

I am impressed by missionaries, evangelists and pastors who have served the Lord for decades with little or no recognition. Whose sole desire was to help others and honor Jesus. 

I am impressed by people who are generous. When I know that someone gives, not large sums, but large percentages of their money away to help others and grow the kingdom of God...that impresses me. 

I am impressed with housewives. Women who could be working full time, getting workplace awards and recognitions, making money and buying things, yet have chosen to give all of that up in order to fully focus on their husbands and children...wow!

I went through this exercise and realized that people who chose to focus on Christ and/or serve others impresses me. Why? I think that it is a reminder to me of the love of God.

Who impresses you? Are you impressed with the wealthy? The accomplished? The famous? The power brokers? Why?

Answer that question: Who impresses me? Why? It may help you re-orient some of your own priorities. 


And now, the rest of the story. The man was country singer, Luke Bryan. I am not impressed with his fame. His treatment of his fans, that impressed me. 

Leia Mais…

No Coasting

Put effort in moving.

Coast.

Stop.

Go backwards. 

This sums up life on a bicycle. You know, 

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike.” 

(Queen—if you don’t know it you’re not old like me.)

Seriously, when you ride a bike, these are your options. 

You work and push yourself forward. 

This means you apply yourself and expand energy to make progress. You have to focus on what you are doing and why. There is a goal you are seeking to accomplish and you know you won’t make it to your destination without work.

Coast. You stop working and let the momentum of past effort or achievements carry you for a little while. This is okay, for a moment. I used to ride my bike back to town and school. On the way, there was a pretty big hill to climb. It was a walker. You know, the kind you can’t make using pedals and have to walk your bike up it. I knew it was coming so I would get as much momentum as I could and work. I refused to walk. Everyday I would crest the top of that hill breathless but victorious. As soon as I topped it, I would throw a few more pedals in and then coast. The other side was a breeze. I had a speedometer on my bike and I sometimes hit forty mph going down it. The thing about it was this. No matter how fast I went, at some point my momentum ran out. I chose to stop or work. It always came down to those two choice. 

You stop or go backwards. Doesn’t really work for riding a bike, but it does in life.

You see, life is like bike riding. 

If you want to make it somewhere good, you must work. 

If there is a destination you have in mind, you have to expand energy to get there. 

Here is what we bought into with the American Dream. 

The whole purpose of our life’s work is to stop it. 

We work for the weekend. 

Then we work for vacation. 

Finally we work for retirement where we don’t have to work any more. It is all about not working. 

Why? 

Why is work a four letter word? 

Denise and I have a goal. That goal is to have our Lord say, 

“Well done, good and faithful servant. You were faithful in little things. I will put you in charge of great things. Enter into the joy of your Lord.” 

We want to arrive at the gates of heaven with sweat still on our faces from the effort of trying to reach the lost for His glory. 

Our purpose in life is not to coast until we reach the cemetery. 

It is to climb the next hill. 

Push on. 

Share Christ one more time. 

Mentor one more pastor. 

Help one more poor person. 

Feed one more hungry child. 

The thing about coasting, stopping or moving backwards is you no longer enjoy the trip. You lose purpose. The excitement of living is gone. You grow old.

We are not old. 

We are experienced. So, why waste all of our life experience on binging Netflix and sleeping in?

• Old happens when you focus on memories and forget about dreams. 

• Old happens when you look back at where you have been and stop looking to where you could be.

• Old happens when your life is full of achievements but empty of goals. 

• Old happens when you spend more time looking in the mirror at the past than you do out the front windshield at the future.

• Old happens when you try to hang on to what is and has been instead of pulling a preferred future into the present.

• Old happens when you lose your passion and vision. 

• Old happens when you are satisfied with the accomplished mission and do not take on a new one.

• Old happens when you coast to a stop instead of accelerate past go. 

We are not old. 

We are a little aged. 

We have ridden this world several times around the sun, there is no doubt. That simply means we are at a time of life where a myriad of experiences have, hopefully, brought us wisdom and maturity. 

Is this a time to retire, or is it time to re-fire? 

This is why we moved to Africa the year I turn 60. 

This is why we refuse to stop applying effort to life.

How about you? 

Who/What are you living for?

Where are you going and how will you get there?

If you don’t have a vision for the future,

you will just live in the past.

Leia Mais…

A Good Teacher Teaches

 The title sounds self-explanatory, but it is not. Unfortunately, most teachers and preachers do not teach. 

I attended a conference on preaching and the speaker said, “It is our job, our duty, to inform people. We speak truth. If they do not listen it is their choice.”

This sounds great. I disagree with it. 

Let me re-word it. 

 “It is my job to communicate truth in a manner and method that allows the listener to easily understand the truth I teach.”

Here is what I tell pastors and teachers at my conferences:

 “If the student did not learn, you did not teach. You merely spoke out loud.” 

Too often, far too often, preachers and teachers simply speak out loud. We blame students for not learning when the real fault is at our door. We did not facilitate learning. 

Let me illustrate by sharing with you one of my life verses. You can read it and see the truth I am seeking to communicate today. 

Ti ni tɔɣisiri zuɣu ni kpahibu yɛl’ shɛŋa yɛla ŋɔ daliri nyɛla ni di kpaŋsi yurilim din yiri suhu din ka daɣiri mini suhu ni tɛha din ka galimi ni yɛda niŋbu maŋli ni na.

This passage is the backbone of my teaching ministry. It revolutionized what and how I teach. Once I read the passage below, and the last part of the sentence leapt off the page at me. I asked myself, “Is this true of me?” Check it out.

Naawuni pala kpiimba Naawuni, amaa o nyɛla nyɛviyanim’ Naawuni. Yi shiri chirimya pam!”

So, you see why I seek to teach and train teachers? I believe it is Biblical to do it. 

Do you have a problem with what I just did? 

I communicated truth. 

I informed you. 

I actually used Scripture and let it speak for itself. I did not add commentary. I gave you the Word of God. 

So, what are you going to do with this truth?

The problem is, I communicated truth in a manner that did not facilitate learning. Just the opposite. The method I used to inform you of truth actually kept you from learning it. 

I quoted the Bible in Dagbali. This is a tribal language of Northern Ghana. 

It is the Bible. 

It is a quote. 

It is truth. 

You have no idea what I said, what it said, or the point I tried to make. Is that your fault? Did I teach or did I simply ‘speak’ out loud?

One of the challenges of missions is learning to teach to learn. 

We know how to teach to inform.

We know how to teach to inform people in our culture.

We know how to teach to inform people in our culture with methods from our culture. 

Do we know how to teach in order for people to learn? Even to our own culture?

If we do know how to teach in order for people to learn in our culture, does that mean we know how to do it in the new culture?

We need to Learn to Teach to Learn. 

We have to learn how to teach in such a manner our students learn. Speaking in a foreign language is not merely verbal. Body language, facial gestures, methods of speaking, tone of voice, all of these must be adapted to the new culture. 

A Ghanian pastor who is a friend of mine told me this. 

“Africa needs the gospel carried to us in a clay pot. In an African clay pot. You missionaries brought it to us in a Starbucks coffee cup. The gospel is the same. It is the way you present it which seems strange to us.”

Missiology is understanding two things. 

The essential truths of Scripture and Gospel. 

The cultural variations of applying and presenting those truths. 

The mission phrase is: Contextualize without compromise. 

Here is a great example. In the west, and I know because I am a theologian, we love our systematic theology. We like to systematize, analyze and organize. We take the Bible and we put it into categories. We write our column headings and place verses in their proper location under the right heading. 

Do you realize God did not do that? 

God did not write a systematic theology. 

He wrote a bunch of stories about people living life and how He interacts with them. 

He told stories of heroes and villains. 

He shared His feelings, thoughts and desires. 

He gave us a lot of poems. 

So, why do we do our best to teach systematic theology instead of tell Bible stories which contain those theological truths? After all, that is what God does. 

What do we do? Do we teach preachers how to tell stories, use object illustrations, and apply the Bible to everyday life? No, we teach pastors systematic theology. 

Take a course on “Biblical Preaching” and you will learn how to teach the Bible in a method never used by Jesus or in the Bible you teach. We changed the Bible into a boring history textbook of information and data points.  

We take a beautiful story of a farmer and make it a grammar lesson in the proper use of participles in Ancient Greek. Then, we declare this is the only way to actually teach “The Word”. 

You must teach like an American theologian or you are not teaching. 

Do folks in a small village in Northern Ghana need to know the Greek parsing of a particular verb in the story of the sower and seed? Do they communicate with linear progression of logical thinking, or with story and song? 

Which should I use if I am seeking to teach and not merely speak out loud?

We are taught to teach by speaking out loud. “My responsibility is to teach. The student’s responsibility is to learn.” This is another quote from the conference I mentioned at the start of this article. I disagree. 

My responsibility is to enable the student to learn as quickly and easily as possible.  My goal is not to speak out loud or disseminate truth. It is to change lives holistically and eternally. I cannot do that speaking a foreign language or using foreign methodology. I must contextualize without compromise. 

Let me share another example. A pastor from the USA visited Northern Ghana to help with a pastor’s conference. The conference was in the far north, near the border. It is sub-Saharan. He told a story and used it throughout his message, referring to it probably five times and then closed with it. I am sure it worked fabulously back in his home church. He told these pastors a long story about hunting elk in the snow. It included all the elements of winter such as snowshoes and hand warmers. 

Not one village pastor knew what snow was. 

Not one person knew what an elk was.

No one hunted.

No one knew what a snowshoe was. 

No one understood hand warmers. 

He did not teach. He spoke out loud. He spoke out loud with enthusiasm. No one understood a thing he said, not even his translator. This is why a huge part of my teaching ministry is focused on using culturally relevant illustrations and stories to bring out the application of the passage. I do not talk about elk hunting in the snow. I talk about looking for a new source of water because the village bog hole dried up. 

This is applicable to everyone reading this blog. We must communicate truth in a manner and method which facilitates learning. My goal is to make understanding, learning and applying this truth as easy as possible. 

In the states I teach with Powerpoint, Keynote, Prezi, Doodly and videos. 

In villages I do not use any of these things. 

In the states I have folks read the passage and focus on individual verses and phrases.  I say things like “Look at verse 5 and focus on the word love. Do you see the context of it?” 

In villages and towns here, almost no one has a Bible and many cannot read. I read the passage and then paraphrased and tell stories to communicate the truth of what the word love means.

Missionaries must learn to teach to learn. 

Pastors must learn to teach to learn.

Teachers must learn to teach to learn. 

If your student did not learn. 

You did not teach.

Let’s stop speaking out loud and start teaching. 

PS. The two verses above which guide my teaching, in English are:

“But the goal of our instruction is love from a pure heart, from a good conscience, and from a sincere faith.” (1 Timothy 1.5)

“…And the large crowd enjoyed listening to Him.” (Mark 12.37b)

Do people enjoy listening to me teach them how to love with a pure heart, good conscience and sincere faith?

Leia Mais…