The F Word

Today's post is brought to you by the word FLEXIBLE.

I tend to think I'm flexible, but I also have a hard time doing pointless things for some imagined benefit and some loss to me.

Maybe I should take it off my resume.

Thank goodness I'm still a quick typist with an excellent grasp of spelling and grammar.

N2O's contract period has ended, so Swahili once again seems like a faraway dream.  My work now involves one-sided soliloquies on how I've been single for a whole year, while I stuff my mouth with bread to keep from growling.

My walk to and from work is quieter as there is now a fence separating the military from the rest of the world and I moonwalk by with no fear of general yelling.  But I was caught in another raid on the nearby market which brought  to mind Mufasa's death in living colour.  I was checking something on my phone and cuddling my bag - though I rarely carry more than a few days' bus fare – when I was suddenly carried backwards by a stampede.  Instinctively stubborn even in confusion, I regained control of my 60-kg frame and looked up to see a policeman bearing down on us with his rifle raised.

Likely in the mad belief that one should face demons head-on – and once again belying my imagined flexibility - I continued pressing upstream towards him.  He quickly turned and stalked off, reminding me of Pastor's toddler yelling Toka palle! (Get away!) whilst chasing their cat around their kitchen

Carrottop was slightly worried when I mentioned that I'd once been to a village after a local prison was burned down and police were massing on dirt roads under the eyes of residents who were reaching their limits; being complacent in the city is hardly different. 

Even simple conversations can feel like dodging bullets sometimes.  One local, trying to practice English with my enthusiastic encouragement, was searching for a word to describe an interracial marriage:  “So, she is married to... a... a nigger...”

“Oh my,” I found myself telling my plate of spaghetti, which was low on mediation skills.  After weeks wherein the strongest language I'd heard was a hissed Buzzard pus! from an aggravated Grandpa, this was another test for my fabled flexibility.

Thankfully, the man continued with his question and I assumed I'd misheard (but I hadn't).

Butters is back in town and, while it was great to catch up on his adventures and observations, a brief altercation reminded me to be grateful that I was still staying at a friend's house.  

"I bought a kilo of meat!  Do you know how much a kilo of meat is?!"

Is this a trick question or is he joking or should I congratulate him or...  I've taken too long to answer; now he'll think I'm being negative!  "Uh--"

"It's a lot of meat!!"

Just as I was reminding myself to start recording these conversations as evidence for the Not Guilty plea, he realised it was one of our irreconcilable differences - the American/Canadian one.  

Aside from fewer conversations like this, the best part of the past few weeks has been picking Grandpa's brain about social affairs and spirituality.  I've always had this with Pastor, but it was nice to hear some new perspectives.  These two faithful men are like parallel lines – so close and yet so far.  Neither of them give a dried fruit of your choice about this, but it troubles me.  I think this admits more of my maturity, self-confidence, and crawl with God than I would like.

These discussions are helpful because – as much as we may deny this – people are similar the world over.  My life and struggles can be addressed by my Pastor even though I am not of his people group or culture, and it's nice to know that questions sound similar even in very different countries.

After a teaching on Luke 9: 18-27, one man was disturbed by Jesus' lack of buzzwords and positivity in telling his disciples to take up their crosses and follow him.

“Why?” he asked, honestly perplexed. “Why didn't Jesus say this in a more motivational, inspirational way?”

I stifled a snort so loud I may have lost neurons.  You may have absorbed this from my writing, but I despise the millennial take on positive thinking, self-actualization, and success.  Please note that all of those things are good; I would be insane to have a problem with them.

(And I'm not.  In case you weren't sure.)

I have a problem when the focus avoids the negative aspects of a given situation in the bizarre belief that this will increase the chance of success – and they say the religious are superstitious.  In this scenario, positive thinking looks like self-adhesive blinders, self-actualization looks like selfishness, and success is approached with a sense of entitlement and seems farther away than ever before.

Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.  While I don't doubt that Jesus laughed with his family, friends, and strangers alike in Jewish society, this characteristic about his personality seems important.  He could have walked around saying that healing people and casting out demons was the best, that love was even better, and that bad things didn't matter because love would win anyway.  He didn't.  Again, the likelihood of Jesus laughing at parties wasn't special enough for the Gospels to mention, but the fact that he wept at Lazarus' tomb was highlighted.  We have a tendency to omit the 'negatives,' to escape the trials - not to identify with them.  Get over it.  Forget about it.  It's behind you now...  As Rafiki empirically demonstrated to a hippie Simba – the past can still hurt.

I'm not advocating obsessing over what could have been done differently, I'm aiming for acceptance of a past that's made you who you are today and how to use those experiences to grow.  But a mentality of avoidance is exaggerated by the self-focused mindset of this generation (no arguments – yes, we're very generous and caring, but the ability to filter our victories and the opinions and news we don't want to see creates insularity and egocentricity no matter how big the internet gets).

The fact is that negatives don't go away.  They have to be faced, and this seems to be something Jesus tried to do himself and told his disciples to do.  The point is not to sound good; it is to speak truth.  It is to be spoken in gentleness, but that doesn't mean that it will be gentle.  There is loving encouragement between friends during hard times; there is also Truth that is life-giving for its own sake – without manic smiles, hashtags, filters, or an award-winning script.

So here's my answer to this man's question:  Jesus is motivational and inspirational.  He met his disciples, family, and the scribes and Pharisees where they were, on their own ground, and coaxed and encouraged them to understand God's heart and love for His people.  It was God who was the driving force behind his presence, and he didn't want to let the Father down – there's the motivation.  It was not his words that were meant to be inspirational – that was already done in Genesis.