taking my mind off it*

* it = impending doom

This weekend has been SO MUCH FUN. It's been incredibly emotional, but for the sake of my sanity, allow me to table those emotions and focus on the excitement.

Saturday morning I loafed around the house, watching movies and packing half-heartedly. In the evening I got myself on over to M&M's house...they're Americans doing full-time ministry work here and their family also goes to Abuja Ark Church. We had pizza and watched Parent Trap together. It felt so normal to be with them and enjoy family time. I mean, I'm not trying to graft myself into theirs, but it reminded me of my own family's pizza & game nights.

I took a big leap out of my comfort zone and did the corporate prayers in Church this morning. Praying publicly is something in which I'm a bit...how shall we say?...out of practice. But I've had a lot of time to think about why corporate prayer is so important, and it comes down to this (and this I shared with the congregation): the Body of Christ is meant to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. We pray to a God who knows the words on our lips before they are even spoken, but public prayer allows us to stand together in our joys and trials. It allows the body of Christ to encourage the afflicted as they are patient in tribulation and also rejoice in hope with those who are triumphant (Romans 12:12).

After church, a whole gang of us went lunch at Silverbird, where I said more goodbyes and made more plans for further goodbyes. (Sensing a trend here?) Tonight, another group of us is going out for fish. Apparently, this is an essential part of Nigerian nightlife that I have yet to experience. Who knew?! So, I'm making up for lost time tonight and going out with friends.

Tomorrow and Tuesday are working days. I have plans with friends in the evenings--I'm even double-booked on Tuesday. Wednesday is sanity day. Thursday is freak out/get my crap together day. Thursday night I'm on a plane.

So much for tabling the emotions.


4 days 'til takeoff.

john piper makes me think crazy thoughts

I've been listening to some of John Piper's sermons recently, which strikes me as odd because I am definitely not a 5-point Calvinist (not even close!). It's like I've been wanting something more, and since Piper's on my iPod...well, why not?

All personal theology aside, I've been gleaning some legit motivation from the messages I've listened to. In the midst of my current employment struggle and aimlessness, this guy...he's reminding me of my eternal purpose.

These are the 3 take-away themes I've picked up: America is comfortable and Christians aren't called to comfort, missions and suffering go hand in hand, and relationships matter.

I'm not sure how to make sense of all this, but I've been reading Philippians, and I think God is beginning to call me to what's next. I don't know where that is, or when I'm going, but I do know that something is tugging at me. And I'm EXCITED.

Countdown: 24 days

in which the author steps on toes

Get out your steel-toed boots.

No feelings were intended to be harmed in the making of this post.

I generally avoid discussing politics, because in my limited experience, there is no faster way to alienate a portion of one's readership than to bring politics into the fray. While the same cannot always be said for religion, it's along those lines. (Although, when it comes to talking about my faith on this blog, I'm not one to tiptoe. I stomp around here as I please.) Today, I'm breaking my self-imposed rules.

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you'll note that I recently changed the Political Views and Religious Views of the Basic Information section on my profile. I'd like to explain and defend my changes.

Until now, I've left Political Views blank. Mostly because I'm young, and green, and inexperienced, and still "sorting myself out," as my British/Canadian flatmate would say. No use defining myself with labels I find insufficient. I'll choose my own labels, thankyouverymuch.
In the past, I've listed my Religious Views as everything from "Christian" and "Evangelical" to "Micah 6:8" and "I'm in love with this Guy" (that one lasted about 5 minutes).

If we're friends on Facebook (and if we're not, click here), see that my Info tab now reads:

Political Views: Arizona's SB 1070 is wrong.
Religious Views: Faith without works is dead.

(I did tell you to have your steel-toed boots at the ready, yes? Good.)

You see, dear readership which may or may not drop after today, I am convinced that even more than the United States needs health care reform, the Church needs reform, too.

Because here's the problem: My generation--the Millenials--is really really good at pointing out things wrong with society, or government, or Church leadership. What we're not really really good at is expressing how to make those wrong things right. It's like this: "I don't like [fill in the blank]. The whole system sucks. We need a change. [End of discussion.]"

See how nothing was resolved there? It was just a complaint, an open letter to the gods of democracy and big business and nongovernmental organizations to fix what we deem is dysfunctional without offering any suggestions for making [fill in the blank] functional again.

AND I AM PREACHING TO THE CHOIR. See, watch this:

I'm not a big fan of Arizona's SB 1070. Mostly because this bill just made it illegal to drive an undocumented immigrant family to church on Sunday mornings in the state of Arizona. Being caught doing so is met with the risk of being arrested for "transporting or harboring" undocumented immigrants.

I recoil from this with the command of Christ to welcome the stranger. I recall the word of the Lord in Jeremiah 22:3 to the people Israel:

"Do justice and righteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor him who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the resident alien, the fatherless, and the widow, nor shed innocent blood in this place."

As convinced as I am that SB 1070 is wrong, I have no suggestion to change it. So maybe I ought to just keep my trap shut. But I want you to understand why I think it is wrong, even if I lack the brain power sufficient to make it right. (Hi, Dad.)

In regards to the Religious Views, I find James 2:26 to be a perfect summation of my struggle between faith and works. It's not that I think I can earn my salvation: I'm a terrible person. I am wretched. I am mean-spirited. There is no hope that I can earn my way into heaven. Thus, I am eternally grateful (pun intended) for grace that is bigger than my mistakes.

But I also have a problem with the "once a Christian, always a Christian" doctrine. If your my faith is as life-altering as you I profess it to be, then shouldn't it be backed up by your my actions? Shouldn't there be evidence that you are I am the redeemed child of God you I claim to be?

Don't get me wrong: I'm as sola fide as the next evangelical. It's just that James says that kind of faith (the kind without works) accomplishes nothing, and ultimately, it cannot save you. The idea here is that my works exist not outside of or instead of faith, but because of and alongside my faith.

So you'll forgive me if I have a problem with claiming to "welcome the stranger" and yet making it illegal to drive said stranger to church on Sunday morning.

If your toes are broken, I've got a great Pakistani doctor here in Abuja I can recommend.

My Heart and the Life Verse Phenomenon, Part II

I have a confession:

Africa was never the desire of my heart.

Which, in a 20/20 hindsight kind of way, is how I know I'm exactly where God wants me to be.

Let's examine the reasons I never wanted to move to Africa:
1. I speak Spanish. I love Spanish. Why would I move to a continent entirely incompatible with 8 years of linguistic training?
2. I generally enjoy living in a nation with a stable infrastructure & an organized government, and without an international reputation for scams.
3. I bargained with God at the age of 9: I would go wherever He wanted me, except Africa.

Oh, sorry, you thought bargaining was only something adults do in the 4th stage of grief? Nope, kids do it, too. Here's how it went down for me:

I have a distinct memory of reading a collection of missionary stories which told about some place in Africa that had these killer ants that sting and bite their way into your ears and wreck your brain. Or something like that.

I sat on the floor of my basement reading about these ants and saying to God, "Okay, buddy, look. You can send me anywhere you want. But I am not going there. Got it?" We learn to bargain with God at such a very young age.

I toyed with the idea of mission work for the better half of my young life, and by my last semester at Wheaton College, my perception of mission work had changed drastically. I'm more in tune with the Humanitarian Work + Jesus model.

As in, "Yes, I'll build a well for your village, supplying you with safe drinking water that will potentially extend your life expectancy. When I'm finished with the well, can I tell you about some Living Water? It extends life expectancy, too." I'm all about that approach.

By May 2009, the "Reasons Maggie Never Wants to Live in Africa" list had grown:

4. I have a bunch of student loans, and few missions organizations will sign on full-time missionaries with debt.
5. I spent all 4 years of college answering the question, "What are you going to do with an English degree? Teach?" with an emphatic "NO WAY, NOT ME."
6. I need a salary. I'm not comfortable taking a job that requires me to itinerate support.
7. My brother Jake moved to Wheaton, and frankly, I want to be in the same state after a 4-year separation.

The list was getting longer, you see. But as I added bullet points to that list, another list was forming: The "Reasons Maggie Will End Up Moving to Africa" list:

1. The economy tanked. Any job is a good job.
2. My English degree does allow me to teach in private schools. Talk about keeping options open.
3. 6-month and 9-month grace periods on federal student loans have this tendency to creep up on you.
4. As much as I love my parents and appreciate their hospitality, the whole being a jobless bum thing was really unflattering. It was the first time I'd been unemployed since the 8th grade, and I hated it. I wanted out.

I have a feeling God knew I would flake out on the living overseas thing. I spent 13 years second-guessing, doubting, questioning, evading, avoiding, ignoring, making excuses, and running in the opposite direction. I imagine God was shaking his head, because I played the part of Israel perfectly.

In Hosea 2, Israel was unfaithful to God like a wife returning to a life of prostitution. God's response?
6 Therefore I will block her path with thornbushes;
I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way
7 She will chase after her lovers but not catch them;
she will look for them but not find them.
Then she will say,
'I will go back to my husband as at first,
for then I was better off than now.'

I was so content in my mud that God had to frustrate me relationally, economically, professionally, physically, financially, and emotionally just to get my attention.

All the while, Africa waited.

God was blocking my path with thorns, backing me into a corner with job loss and breakups, making sure that when I tried to get out of my corner, the open path was Nigeria.

Honestly, I feel that all the events of the past 15 months of my life occurred if solely for the purpose of getting me to Africa, which is both terrifying and relieving. It's terrifying because that means that "such a time as this" is really important. It's relieving because for all my wandering and wrong turns, God still brought me to this place. I didn't screw it up. God is bigger than my ignorance.

For 13 years, Africa was not my desire, but it is now.

That's how I know I'm not in the mud anymore.

My Heart and the Life Verse Phenomenon

I don't remember exactly when, in my churched childhood, I first came across the idea of "The Life Verse." I must have been young, because I can't recall ever hearing the phrase and not immediately comprehending it.

In my opinion, The Life Verse exists at the place where the church meets consumerist culture. Which is not to say that the concept of The Life Verse is heretical or blasphemous. It's one way that we make Scripture pertain specifically to ourselves as individuals (i.e. "How can Scripture meet my needs?") and another way that Christians succeed in marketing religion back to ourselves. If that statement made you angry, I would be happy to forward you my senior-year thesis on the purchasing of Brand Jesus, which will help you understand where I'm coming from. You could also read Tyler Wigg Stevenson's book of the same name.

The timeline goes as follows: somewhere in my early childhood, I learned that I could claim a Scripture verse to be the theme of my as-yet-unlived life. I could claim it and it could be a guidepost, a veritable memorial stone--just like in Joshua 4--representing the times when God showed up: a testament to enduring faithfulness. Some time after this, I came to see Psalm 37:4 as my Life Verse:

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."

Fast-forward ten years. In the fall of my senior year, during a quarter-life crisis (in which the soon-to-be college graduate freaks out about the impending doom of her aimless life), my very wise roommate Sarah shared with me that my life verse can be understood in two ways. Yes, she said, most people interpret it in the way I had, believing that delighting oneself in the Lord will result in assured happiness, indeed, in the things you most want in life: the deepest desires of your heart. But, she informed me, some read it this way: when you are so deep in the will of God, when His will is the only thing you care to pursue and when His face is the only thing filling your line of vision, you will find that the things your heart wants most are--in an ironic twist--the things HE most wants. Those, she said, are the desires of your heart when you delight yourself in Him: His desires.

Can I get an amen?

It took a few days to sink in, but I cannot be more convinced that this second, newer (new, at least, to me) interpretation is more accurate. The first seems too consumerist to be true: that God would give me what I want as long as I am delighting in Him (whatever that unidentified term delight means). It seems much more probable that in my love affair with a God who knows me better than I know myself, He would exchange what I think I want for what is actually better for me to have. We recognize this today as a mother's love.

This is how I picture it. I was sitting, happily mucking about, in puddle of mud, completely oblivious to my own filth. In comes Jesus Christ, who takes me by the hand and leads pulls yanks me out of the mud. I protest; I kick and I scream. "But I like it here," I say. "I want to stay; I want this - it's fun!"
As He washes the mud from body, he quiets me in a whisper: "My child, you don't know what you want. That is, what you say you want, you don't actually know it. It's mud. You're dirty. I want to give you what I want for you."
It's then that I realize the mud is washed away, pooled on the floor at my feet. I'm standing, shivering, wet, cold, and naked. I can see that the mud is dirty, filthy, wretched and has been drowning me in its filth and making me dirty and wretched. And I want nothing more than to have what He wants to give me: a garment of praise and a crown of righteousness.

That's what Psalm 37:4 means to me. It means that all the things I want in this world, all the dreams I can dream up for myself, all the places I want to go, all the plans I make for my future- they are all mud. I think I know what it is I want, I think I understand what I'm asking for, but what He wants to give me is so. much. better. than what I desire. And as I busy myself in my mud, perfectly content with the nearsighted visions that placate me, Psalm 37:4 reminds me that when I delight myself in Him, the things I want fall away and are replaced by the grandiose treasures He desires on my behalf.

Please understand that this new reading of my so-called Life Verse does not, in fact, make my life easier. It's more complicated now. It involves deep internal questions: These things I want, are they what He wants? This situation I'm sitting in, is it mud? That goal I've set, is it too narrow in scope?

In the midst of my questions, though, comes the reassurance that as long as I'm delighting myself in Him--seeking His will instead of living for myself--my desires will align with His until mine don't even exist anymore.

That is worth climbing out of the mud for.

Green Oranges and Other Confessions

I have a couple confessions to make:

1. I didn't write this update over the weekend because I procrastinated too long on my lesson plans and correcting. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

2. My oranges here are green. No, for real. That's not an oversized lime, that's an orange, and it legitimately disturbs me. Oranges are called oranges because they're orange. Come on Nigeria; get with the program.

3. Sometimes I strip God of His omnipotence. Hello, subject change. Yesterday in church, we talked about Psalm 30. The psalmist praises God for delivering him from trouble. The credit for the deliverance is given to God. God is given praise for being, well, God.

And yet, how many times do I say or do things that strip God of the praise He deserves?

Exhibit A: I mentioned that I had a conversation last week with a new neighbor. Part of our exchange went like this:
L: I feel so bad that you have to live with old ladies and go to church all the time.
Me: I don't mind. Really, I don't.
L: Well, do you drink?
Me: Occasionally. Why?
L: Oh, good. Just making sure you're not one of those people who lived in the substance-free dorm at your college.
[Pause here to appreciate the irony.]
Me: Actually, my whole college was substance-free. It's a Christian school.
L: Oh. I knew some crazy girls like that. They were all anti-drinking and 'saving themselves for marriage' or something like that.
[Spoiler Alert: I'm about to deny God.]
Me: Oh. Well, I'm not crazy. I do drink and stuff. It's hard to associate yourself with a particular group of people like evangelical Christians because I'm not, like, extreme like everyone else.

WHAT?! DID YOU JUST HEAR ME?!

Why didn't I take the opportunity to tell him about the incredible, life-changing redemption I have received from Jehovah Mephalti, the Lord my Deliverer? (yep, I Googled it.) Why did I show no hesitation in severing myself from the community of saints I would otherwise call the Body of Christ, the Church? Why did I back down?

My rationale at the time was, Oh I don't want to scare him off. This could turn into a great example of "Relational Christianity."

Ooh, that R. C. gets me every time. I can justify just about any action (or inaction) with Relational Christianity (i.e. I don't want to ram my religion down people's throats; I want to develop a relationship with them so they can see there's something different about me.).
It's a benign concept enough, but I struggle with elevating it above Jesus in importance. Legitimately. Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus and focus on being relevant and culturally palatable and relational instead of on the one I call Savior.

But that's not the kind of life Jesus called me to live. He's called me to live a life apart: a crazy, radical, that's-not-how-the-rest-of-the-world-works kind of life that points people to Jesus.

And honestly, you guys, it's a struggle for me to keep my finger off Backspace right now, because I'm human, I mess up, I make a mockery of that purpose, and I don't live like I believe any of that stuff I just typed. If you've known me for more than 5 minutes, you know that when I screw up, I go all out. And the last thing Christianity needs is another hypocrite. For all my failings, though, I am never outside the grace of God, and neither are you.

So for all the times I've missed the opportunity, for all the "L conversations" I've had, let me just say this:

I believe it. It's some pretty messed up stuff like human sacrifice and eternity and a God I can't even see, but I believe it. All of it. I believe that if I was the only human left on earth, God still would have loved me enough to send His Son to be the redemption for all my mistakes. I believe that this truth should permeate every level of my existence and that it should grieve me when it does not. I believe that there is a world beyond this one, and when I come to the end of my life, I will be spared an eternity apart from God because of a sacrifice that has already been made, a debt that has already been paid. (Hey, that rhymed.) (English teacher, remember?)

And frankly, my friends, that is why I'm in Nigeria. Because I also believe that God created me, is mindful of me, and cares about what I do with my life. I believe that my purpose is to bring God glory in everything I say and do. Being here is an act of obedience to a God who is bigger than I can imagine and who loves ME, even when I strip him of all his omnipotence.

So actually, yes, I am crazy.

P.S. I tried really hard to leave all the "Christianese" out of this post, but it's hard to undo 22 years of a specific learned vocabulary. If words like sacrifice, debt, deliverance, eternity and omnipotence are confusing to you, give me a chance to tell you what I mean.

Fill-in-the-blank

In an effort to avoid talking about Obama and the Peace Prize (I thought the "A for effort" philosophy ended in 2nd grade? [Guess I can't avoid the topic entirely]), let's do a vocabulary exercise!

Fill in the blank with the appropriate word or phrase:

Nigeria is __________. Ready? Go!

One-word responses:
Heartbreaking. Vibrant. Breathtaking. Beautiful. Alive.
Broad. Sprawling. Claustrophobic.
Scorched. (And I'm not speaking geographically.)

Two-word responses:
Public Urination. ('nough said.)
Africa hot.
"Ah-ah" and "Sss, Sss." (Both colloquialisms, "ah-ah" encompasses a range of exclamations, from "No way" to "Be careful." The "sss" or hissing sound replaces the American attention-getter "Hey, you.")

3 words responses:
Phone calls home.
A great disparity.
"She's my aunty." (In reference to any older woman.)
New construction. Everywhere.

Phrasal responses:
Having people think I'm related to any other white person simply because I'm also white.
Sticky hot shadows on burning pavement.
Washing dishes and just hoping you don't get salmonella.
Suffering jokes about marrying a Nigerian.
Bad roads and worse traffic.
A row of buildings: bank, restaurant, bank, cardboard house with a corrugated tin roof and open fire, supermarket. (See "A great disparity.")

I could go on and on--and I probably will, when I learn new ways to complete that sentence.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

(This is also a postdated blog entry. I'm trying to catch up from the past 2 weeks.)

Respect is the best part about living in Nigeria, hands-down. This culture absolutely thrives on respect. From what I’ve observed, it seems to be the backbone of this society. The primary way respect is shown is through greeting everyone. Absolutely everyone, every time you see them, regardless of the last time you greeted them! In America, it would be enough to say, “hi” and “hi” back, but here, a typical greeting looks like this:
Me: “Good morning, Mrs. Ngozi. How are you?”
Mrs. Ngozi: “Good morning, Maggie. I’m fine, how are you?”
Me: “I’m good [you can take the girl out of America…]. How was your night?”
Mrs. Ngozi: “It was fine. How was yours? Are you settling in okay?”
Me: “It was fine, we had company over for dinner and yes, I am settling in very well. Everyone has been very helpful, thank you.”
[about 5 minutes later]
Me, passing Mrs. Ngozi to get a cup of tea: “Good morning, Mrs. Ngozi.”
Mrs Ngozi: “Thank you, good morning, Maggie.”

Greetings are also an essential part of every verbal exchange. I am expected to greet someone before asking them a question of any kind, especially for a favor. I broke this rule on my second day of teacher orientation, and while I couldn’t identify the nature of the look the acting principal gave me, I soon learned why. I had I waltzed into her office and asked for bulletin board cloth without greeting her first and couldn’t place the incredulous look on her face. It’s twice as bad because I hadn’t actually seen her yet that day, so I failed to even given her the required first greeting! Of course, grace and patience are also an important part of this culture, and everyone seems to give me an extra measure because I am American and because I am young, which I appreciate heartily.

Along with greetings, and with introductions particularly, instead of saying something like “pleased to meet you,” Nigerians use the phrase, “you’re welcome.” This phrase, which, when spoken sounds like “yah-well-comb,” is used to welcome a person to a physical location (like a student into a classroom) or into a group of people (like a new teacher joining a staff), or, in my case, welcoming me to Nigeria in general. It is repeated several times in one conversation to reassure one another that their presence is recognized and appreciated. Wives especially use this phrase when their husbands come home from work in the evening. Failure to leave what she is doing, going over to greet her husband, and welcoming him home is a sign of disrespect.

Respect also carries over into religious beliefs as well. As you may know, Abuja is split between Islam and Christianity. It is strange to me that in the market, I am just as likely to buy rice from a Muslim as I am a Christian—I have never experienced those kind of equal ratios before! It is such an example to me to hear Christians talk about Muslims they know personally with no tinge of prejudice or superiority. Through their example, the Lord has really been stirring my heart in regards to the Muslim community here in Nigeria. At first I interpreted these Christians’ unbiased comments as universalism or pluralism, but I was mistaken. They aren’t pluralists, they realize that Islam is an empty religion, but the way they talk to and about Muslims just drips of respect. It is truly beautiful to live in a city where Muslims and Christians live and walk side-by-side and that while I can internally recognize the eternal fruitlessness of their beliefs, I can give them the basic respect they’re owed as human beings.
Side note: these kinds of experiences I've had are unique to Abuja. In the north, Muslims are hostile to Christians. It appears that I have landed in a city that "isn't the real Nigeria," especially these respectful religious exchanges. All the same, I've been impressed by the respect I've seen thus far.

Last anecdote on respect, or How I Can Already Spot an American a Mile Away:
I walked into my 6th grade Lit class on the first day of school and everyone stood up and said in unison, “Good morning, Miss Thomas.” I was absolutely floored with their respect for me, but pleasantly surprised (I couldn’t imagine a similar scene occurring in the States!).
As I entered my 7th grade Lit class later that day, most of the students greeted me (albeit not standing, but still in their seats with their hands folded on the desks) except for one young man. He looked just like all my other Nigerian students except that he slouched sideways in his chair, one arm draped over the back. He watched me walk in, apparently unimpressed. I walked up to him, stuck out my hand and said, “Good morning; my name is Miss Thomas.” His response? “Uh, hi.” I smiled to myself and asked, “Are you American?” He raised a eyebrow and said, “yeah.” And I secretly congratulated myself for being able to pick the American after only 9 days. :)