Wind Report – Central Asia
OBLIGATION
By Jerimiah Smith
It was day three of my visit in this country and I had already traversed the landscape on at least four different modes of transportation. Whether it was a taxi, bus, metro or ferry boat, it was clear the 17 million inhabitants needed multiple options to get from point A to B. Thankfully, on this day, we were going to be able to take my preferred means of travel. The ferry boat was my favorite because there seemed to be an irreplaceable tranquility offered by the open sea. It was always soothing and relaxing. This would be especially important on a day where it would take us almost two hours to get to our destination.
We needed to trade in the hustle and bustle of the larger city for a smaller coastal town in order to have what would prove to be one of the more challenging conversations of this journey. Of course, I didn’t know that would be the case going into the day, but in my experience that is often the way God decides to challenge you: He loves to shatter your expectations when you are the least prepared for Him to do so. I guess my expectations were more than a year in the making. As a recent seminary graduate, three of the last four years of my life were conditioned to sit in a room and think. Discuss, research, study, write; these were the pillars of my life leading into my new role at the church. And in my first year, I somewhat leaned on these pillars. If I’m open and honest, while I was definitely more active than my days at seminary, I knew that I could lean on my love for strategy to prove my worth within this first year. Consequently, I was conditioned to use the latest buzz words and psychological trends so that I could carry on a conversation with other strategists as we sat around and pontificated on how we could save the world with the gospel. I love those conversations, but in more ways than I’d probably care to admit, too much of it was empty talk. As is the case in any arena of life, it is often too easy to subtly drift astray by too much talking and too little doing.
Looking back, I think it is those sorts of expectations that made this pending conversation so challenging and refreshing. You see, much of this trip was meant to learn about a new culture. It was my first time in the country and our people had only been on the ground for about six months. As a result, everything was new. We needed to do some fact-finding to help set us on a course that could guide our future involvement. So one of the main objectives was to meet as many workers in the area as possible so I could hear their stories, their needs and see how we could respond. Well, initially I was very excited about this approach because in many ways it allowed me to be in my element. Sitting around a few tables and discussing strategy would be very comfortable. I knew what words to say, what questions to ask so as to not embarrass myself and prove that I could hold my own with people who had much more experience than myself. But like I said earlier, God loves to shatter our expectations and challenge us when we are the least prepared.
So as my friend and I walked off the boat after arriving at our new location, I took in the scenery. As is often true for many coastal towns, the people just seemed to be moving at a slower pace than in the larger city. It’s almost as if it’s a statement of being relaxed and embracing the value of approaching life with a mellowed perspective. The population size probably contributed to this sentiment as well. Here people aren’t just one of 17 million. Rather, in a city of about 130,000 there often seems to be a stronger sense of identity and community. As we made our way through the exit ramp of the dock the proximity of the hills made their presence that much more impressive. With the majority of the homes being built along the hillside it was easy to take in the entirety of the city with just one panoramic scan. As I took everything in I quickly noticed a small town square that resembled a humble Italian courtyard that hugged the coastline with a number of surrounding cafes for local patrons to stop in and get their customary chai. Concluding such a relaxing boat ride with such a picturesque destination was a very appealing experience.
John was waiting for us as we walked off the boat. I’m not sure how to articulate my first impression. In fact, in hindsight, I’d say my first impression was somewhat of a lasting impression that continued to materialize in our ensuing conversation as well. In short, John was just a little difficult to read. His appearance led me to believe he was probably nearing his early forties. He wore simple black-rimmed glasses, was average in height, and had a blazer to cover his buttoned up shirt. That being said, his dress was a mix of formal and informal as he was wearing comfortable blue jeans as well. But perhaps what made him so difficult to read was that nothing glaring stood out. Not only was his dress and appearance subtle but so was his personality. He was cordial and welcoming but not overbearing or overtly friendly. Like I said, he was difficult to read.
As we walked together to the nearby café I tried to shake my inability to read my new acquaintance and rest more comfortably in my expectations for the upcoming dialogue. For while John was difficult to read there was one thing I knew for sure to help guide my expectations: his title. John was the chief strategist for the work focused among this particular people we were seeking to serve. So if there was ever a time to talk strategy, this was it. I reached back for my pillars and began thinking through all the key buzz words I would need to bring up so I could dig deep into his approach to sharing the gospel. What I didn’t realize was that my whole approach and mentality entering into this conversation was setting me up to hear a very important word the Lord wanted to bring back to the foreground.
In essence, John continued to surprise me with every one of his answers to my questions. I would throw out a buzz word like a fisherman casting a line into an open pond to see if I could get a bite of interest from my new friend. Perhaps he would latch on to something and take me for a ride. But with each cast it became clear the fish just weren’t biting. But what made it more intriguing was the way John was answering me. This analogy isn’t to insinuate that John was as unresponsive as a stagnant fishing hole. Contrarily, with every answer it was if John was saying, “your fishing in the wrong hole and you might even be using the wrong bate. Why don’t you try using this bate and casting your line in this pond over here?” This was very confusing to me because I had been in these settings on multiple occasions in the past year and in almost every setting the conversation more or less sounded the same. Especially when the bate was a term like “Church Planting Movement” (CPM). Throw that word out there and most missiologist will initiate a conversation that will last forever. Not today. Not John.
Looking back, I’m so appreciative of what John was doing. While it was confusing and somewhat annoying at times, I now recognize that John was tactfully and respectfully deconstructing my presupposed concepts. He would do this in two primary ways: 1) Ask questions and 2) Recite Scriptures. Let me give you an example of how this worked by recounting what was for me, the highlight of our conversation.
Me: “So, John, how long have you lived here?”
John: “About 7 years.”
Me: “Do you like it?”
John: “Do I like it?”
Me: “Um, yeah, you know, do you like it here?”
John: “That’s an interesting question. You know, as Americans, we often think we are entitled to certain things in life. For example, when we move somewhere or live somewhere we think we are supposed to like the experience and are owed a certain level of enjoyment. But when I read the Scriptures and I look at the words of the apostle Paul, I see him use words like “servant, slave, and even imprisoned.” I see him say that he is obligated to the gospel and I think that is something that is often lost on us as believers. Let me give you an example. Where are you from?”
Me: “Where do I live? Arlington.”
John: “How big is Arlington?”
Me: “About 360,000 people.”
John: “Ok, picture 1/3 of your city. Let’s say it’s the 1/3 of the city where you live and the area that you call home. So about 130,000 people, comparable to my situation here. Let’s say you are the only source of the gospel for those 130,000 people. Your 1/3 of the city has no access to the name of Jesus or promise of the gospel except through you. So, if you wake up one day and don’t want to get out of bed one morning and you’d just prefer to stay home, if you do that, those people have no chance of hearing the gospel. That’s my reality here. If I don’t get up, the people in this city have no chance to hear the story of Christ.
So do I like it? Yeah, I guess, sometimes sure. But I would go as far to say that I am obligated to be here. It’s my duty. I’m a servant to this gospel and whether or not I like it is somewhat irrelevant. And I think that is something we’ve lost in American culture. We need more people who are willing to see themselves as obligated to this gospel in which they believe.”
That is a small taste of what my dialogue with John was all about. You want to know his strategy? Read the Bible. You want to know his approach? Embrace a life of complete surrender and humility. Now it’s one thing to hear that from the pulpit or read it on a blog, but have it said to you by a man who lives it out daily and your expectations and conceptions will come crumbling down. It was truly the most humbling conversation of my entire time spent in the country. A gentle word that abruptly pulled the curtain back on my own sense of entitlement and served as a reminder to be anchored in the text. And to drive the message home even further, it wasn’t long before John indicated we had done enough talking for the day. He proposed we go spend time with one of his friends who owned a towel shop down the street. He wanted us to spend the remainder of our time with someone who wasn’t a believer so that we could be the gospel in the hours remaining. Clearly, whether or not it would be an experience we would like more than finishing our coffee and sitting by shore was irrelevant. We were obligated to do so.
And that’s where I’d like to conclude: obligation. It is somewhat humbling to go back to the Scriptures and consider the manner in which so many suffered for the gospel, and yet they did so with complete joy. Joy found in suffering stems from being in the presence of God, and the presence of God is found in the gospel. So why are we so fearful to truly be servants, slaves, or be obligated to this great message of hope that we would be willing to set all of our own personal comforts aside and we stop talking and take advantage of every second of every day to start doing? I’m afraid the answer is that we just don’t care enough about the glory and renown of the very God we serve. Consider this quote from John Piper:
“When the glory of God himself saturates our preaching and teaching and conversation and writings, and when he predominates above our talk of methods and strategies and psychological buzz words and cultural trends, then the people might begin to feel that he is the central reality of their lives and that the spread of his glory is more important than all their possessions and plans”
What a great challenge and a great question for us to answer. Is the glory of God and the gospel of Jesus Christ more important than all our possessions and all our plans? Again, I think of Paul and the credibility he sat down with every time he crafted a letter. Each introduction describes how he defines his life and the purpose he pursues. For example, Romans 1 says:
“Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God – the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures regarding his Son, who as to his human nature was a descendant of David, and who through the Spirit of holiness was declared with power to be the Son of God by his resurrection from the dead: Jesus Christ our Lord. Through him and for his name’s sake, we received grace and apostleship to call people from among all Gentiles to the obedience that comes from faith. And you also are among those who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.”
Could we truly start a letter in the same fashion? Do our lives reflect someone who is a servant and set apart for the gospel of God? What keeps us so afraid of being such a people? Probably one simple question, “would we like it?” Well, this conversation was a great reminder to keep it in perspective. Would we like it? Well, maybe, sometimes. But perhaps we should go so far as to say that whether or not we like it is irrelevant … it’s our duty … it’s our obligation.
Note: names mentioned in the details below have been changed for security purposes.
One Response to “Wind Report – Central Asia”
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Didn’t know you left the country. Thanks for putting things in perspective. I’m glad Diana and I can help in the little ways we do. So do you think that little old Niger can handle 2 Bens and 2 BSs (Ben Sustar and Ben Stokes)?
In Christ, Jim Richardson