Uninhibited Negligence initials out to U.N. I find this hilarious and appropriate, but beside the point. I was actually thinking about the missional mindset of the wealthy and successful.
I read a friends link to a post about short term missions (s.t.m.) and was reminded of a lot of other conversations and experiences. It didn't warn against doing s.t.m., just raised some unfortunate issues.
We have money, power, resources, and know how. Many of us even have a desire to help those "less fortunate" than ourselves, spiritually or materially. Here is the problem, good intentions aren't enough. Hit and run missions, as fun as they are can cause more damage than good (that doesn't mean they will just that they can). This concept builds on the previous post about relationship and it will spill over into some future posts as well, but for now lets state the obvious. Everyone wants to get and do the things that make them feel good. Actually doing good often gets little more than lip-service in the internal dialogue of desire.
Here is the unfortunate reality, if you want to help bring about long term help and growth, spiritually or physically, it is going to take a long term commitment of time, resources, and love. This doesn't mean you can't role through for a week with a bunch of high-schoolers, build some houses, sing some songs, and talk about the love of Jesus, it just means for that to have any real benefit in the community it will need to be carried out as part of a larger longer term relationship.
Some simple truths #1: S.T.M. are for the benefit of the missionaries... there is nothing wrong with this as long as you understand it. Mexican ghettos and African slums didn't get the way they are overnight and 25 teenagers from the burbs won't fix them in a week, no matter how trendy their work cloths, how many pictures they take, how many babies they hold, or how many people give their lives to Jesus in the last outreach service. This doesn't mean nothing good took place. A dusty snot-factory baby getting held and loved on is a good thing, a family getting a new house (even if it isn't done the way they wanted) is a blessing, but the real winners are the 25 teenagers who had their eyes wrenched open, hearts broken, and worldviews shattered. Heck, they may even spend the rest of their lives trying to learn how to love and help those people, and others like them, because of the impact one S.T.M. had on them and the way God used it to talk to them, this is a win. Dumping cash, giving the impression that all Americans are wealthy and their lives perfect, and teaching the locals that the best way to get gifts from Westerners is to show up to their meetings, raise their hands and come forward at the right time, isn't.
As a side note, if you, or someone you trust, isn't going to stick around, be in relationship with, and disciple people, DON'T do an alter call. I once saw a missions team put on a three day conference/crusade in Zambia. Thousands gave their lives to Christ and got free Bibles and resources, a bunch of them did it every night. I'm not saying there weren't some genuine commitments, I'm just saying it's a shame and a sham when the impact of the gospel is reduced to hands raised and Bible given rather than lives lived and relationships built. If the unintentional impact of an outreach is the creation of the impression that saying yes to Jesus means you "get stuff", the outreach is actually watering down and hindering the gospel. The lesson shouldn't be "don't preach", but "learn how to teach".
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
If I ruled the world...
This is not how I would set things up.
Yesterday,after spending a bruising and sunburnt day in Gulu, I sat down to an Indian meal with some new friends. Thankfully the Indian didn't inflict damage on the six hour bus ride this morning (chorus of "hallelujah"). The new friends are highly qualified westerners doing some cool stuff in the wrecked yet recovering norther Uganda. One of the lessons we are all learning is the highly unwestern principle of relationship. It's not that westerners dislike relationship, or avoid it, its that we compartmentalize it. We have our work and our relationships, we are trained not to mix friends and money, we think a good plan has value in and of itself, and in a certain context there is wisdom here. Not so much in the African context.
Africa, where good ideas and well thought out plans are engulfed in flames and drag people to the pits of depression, self doubt, and self-righteous anger, teaches a brutally difficult lesson to learn: If it isn't built on relationship, it isn't going to last. Plans aren't all bad, good intentions and brilliant ideas are a good place to start, they get you moving in a direction. The problem is, once they are expected to stand on their own they are dead. The way things last, they way they grow, is when they come out of relationship.
Seeing problems and solutions isn't enough, you need to see the solutions that work within the context. The problem is I've only seen this come from relationships, relationships that take a while to develop, relationships that are difficult, relationships that develop independently of "the plan", relationships that are sometimes annoying. As much as this sucks, it is also a blessing, it forces you to see people.
While preaching last week I blurted out "Christianity isn't about magic, it's about relationship." I wanted people to understand the difference between being a christian to "get" and being a christian to "be". God created us to be in relationship with him, not to get passing prizes or have our lives work slightly better. This is easy to remember when I preach, but freaking difficult when I live. Being in relationship with God, for the the sake of being, requires being in relationship with others for the same reason. If a plan or a solution for a situation comes out of it, well then great, the best ones do. Unfortunately, that isn't the reason for them.
The sucky thing about relationships, at least the ones of value, is they need to happen for themselves.
Yesterday,after spending a bruising and sunburnt day in Gulu, I sat down to an Indian meal with some new friends. Thankfully the Indian didn't inflict damage on the six hour bus ride this morning (chorus of "hallelujah"). The new friends are highly qualified westerners doing some cool stuff in the wrecked yet recovering norther Uganda. One of the lessons we are all learning is the highly unwestern principle of relationship. It's not that westerners dislike relationship, or avoid it, its that we compartmentalize it. We have our work and our relationships, we are trained not to mix friends and money, we think a good plan has value in and of itself, and in a certain context there is wisdom here. Not so much in the African context.
Africa, where good ideas and well thought out plans are engulfed in flames and drag people to the pits of depression, self doubt, and self-righteous anger, teaches a brutally difficult lesson to learn: If it isn't built on relationship, it isn't going to last. Plans aren't all bad, good intentions and brilliant ideas are a good place to start, they get you moving in a direction. The problem is, once they are expected to stand on their own they are dead. The way things last, they way they grow, is when they come out of relationship.
Seeing problems and solutions isn't enough, you need to see the solutions that work within the context. The problem is I've only seen this come from relationships, relationships that take a while to develop, relationships that are difficult, relationships that develop independently of "the plan", relationships that are sometimes annoying. As much as this sucks, it is also a blessing, it forces you to see people.
While preaching last week I blurted out "Christianity isn't about magic, it's about relationship." I wanted people to understand the difference between being a christian to "get" and being a christian to "be". God created us to be in relationship with him, not to get passing prizes or have our lives work slightly better. This is easy to remember when I preach, but freaking difficult when I live. Being in relationship with God, for the the sake of being, requires being in relationship with others for the same reason. If a plan or a solution for a situation comes out of it, well then great, the best ones do. Unfortunately, that isn't the reason for them.
The sucky thing about relationships, at least the ones of value, is they need to happen for themselves.
Monday, March 7, 2011
God is a nudist, seriously
More of what I've been working on:
To plagiarize C.S. Lewis, We all carry the weight of glory. Glory being the nakedness of God. If seen for who we are, we would more closely resemble angelic beings than mere animals stuck in meat suits.
This raises the stakes in how we relate to each other and to God. To paraphrase Lewis, we have never met a mere mortal. This places a huge burden on us to love others in relation to who God has made them rather than what we see on the surface. We do not possess the right to deny compassion to those God endowed with beauty and love. In the end, each may fall like Lucifer or rise like Christ, but until then, the burden is on us to love.
An often unstated aspect of ‘glory’ is nakedness. The “glory” of God is the “nakedness” of God - the pure revelation of who He is.
Miroslav Volf, in his book Free of Charge, addresses the issue of a seemingly petty or emotionally incomplete God who desires/needs others to give him glory. Volf states:
But we don’t need to give up on the idea that God seeks God’s own glory. We just need to say that God’s glory, which is God’s very being, is God’s love, the creative love that wants to confer good upon the beloved. Now the problem of a self-seeking God has disappeared, and the divinity of God’s love is vindicated. In seeking God’s own glory, God merely insists on being toward human beings the God who gives.
The image emerging from the shadows of obligation and payment owed, becomes one of participation and revelation. The glory God seeks, the glory God demands, is not a product of our creation, used to fuel a Zeus-like ego; rather, it is the participation in the revelation of God’s nature and desire in creation.
Do we believe we can bring God - the creator of the universe, giver of all, more beautiful than all the sunsets scattered across the horizons from the day of creation till the end of days – glory through our faulted and imperfect actions, or is it through our actions the glory of God is revealed? Does marriage glorify God or does marriage reveal the glory of God?
Marriage, love given others, worship for the sake of worship, tithes, prayers, etc. do not add to God or endow Him with any greater glory, you can't make the ocean more the ocean. These actions reveal and participate in the fullness of God, His identity and nature, which is His glory. To make God naked in the world, through our actions, thoughts, and words, is the greatest honor we can give God. To say, “This is who God Is.”, and have Him agree, is to say and give everything that can be said or given.
As our understanding of God’s desire for “His own glory” develops we see an amazing transition in how we relate to God. Watch what happens when we substitute "nakedness" for "glory" in a handful of scriptural passages:
“The heavens declare the nakedness of God; the sky displays his handiwork.” - Psalm 19:1
“When Jesus heard this, he said, “This sickness will not lead to death, but to God’s nakedness, so that the Son of God may be revealed through it.”” – John 11:4
“Jesus responded, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believe, you would see the nakedness of God?”” - John 11:40
“But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked intently toward heaven and saw the nakedness of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” – Acts 7:55
“…for all have sinned and fall short of the nakedness of God.” – Romans 3:23
“Receive one another, then, just as Christ also received you, to God’s nakedness.” – Romans 15:7
“So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the nakedness of God.” – 1 Corinthians 10:31
“For a man should not have his head covered, since he is the image and nakedness of God.” – 1 Corinthians 11:7a
And we all, with unveiled faces reflecting the nakedness of God, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, which is from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” – 2 Corinthians 3:18
“…and the temple was filled with smoke from God’s nakedness and from his power. Thus no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues from the seven angels were completed.” – Revelation 15:8
“The city possesses the nakedness of God; its brilliance is like a precious jewel, like a stone of crystal-clear jasper.” – Revelation 21:11
“The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, because the nakedness of God lights it up, and its lamp is the Lamb.” – Revelation 21:23
All joking aside, the exchange of nakedness for glory adds an intense intimacy and clarity to these passages. No longer is the purpose, or the power, linked to some ethereal concept or self-aggrandizement. The purpose and power of God is now linked with the clarity of His self-revelation. We can do all things to the glory of God, a concept difficult to conceptualizing, because everything good, everything of value, even in the most pedestrian way, has the capacity to reveal God.
The love of a father to a son, even in a secular family, reveals the nakedness of God in His desire for His creation. A father’s love for his son mimics, and in fact participates in, the nature of God. A Muslim man loving his child glorifies God, regardless of his or your theology, because through participation in God’s nature, the beauty of God is revealed and affirmed. God does not receive more glory; rather, the fullness of His glory comes more into light.
To plagiarize C.S. Lewis, We all carry the weight of glory. Glory being the nakedness of God. If seen for who we are, we would more closely resemble angelic beings than mere animals stuck in meat suits.
This raises the stakes in how we relate to each other and to God. To paraphrase Lewis, we have never met a mere mortal. This places a huge burden on us to love others in relation to who God has made them rather than what we see on the surface. We do not possess the right to deny compassion to those God endowed with beauty and love. In the end, each may fall like Lucifer or rise like Christ, but until then, the burden is on us to love.
An often unstated aspect of ‘glory’ is nakedness. The “glory” of God is the “nakedness” of God - the pure revelation of who He is.
Miroslav Volf, in his book Free of Charge, addresses the issue of a seemingly petty or emotionally incomplete God who desires/needs others to give him glory. Volf states:
But we don’t need to give up on the idea that God seeks God’s own glory. We just need to say that God’s glory, which is God’s very being, is God’s love, the creative love that wants to confer good upon the beloved. Now the problem of a self-seeking God has disappeared, and the divinity of God’s love is vindicated. In seeking God’s own glory, God merely insists on being toward human beings the God who gives.
The image emerging from the shadows of obligation and payment owed, becomes one of participation and revelation. The glory God seeks, the glory God demands, is not a product of our creation, used to fuel a Zeus-like ego; rather, it is the participation in the revelation of God’s nature and desire in creation.
Do we believe we can bring God - the creator of the universe, giver of all, more beautiful than all the sunsets scattered across the horizons from the day of creation till the end of days – glory through our faulted and imperfect actions, or is it through our actions the glory of God is revealed? Does marriage glorify God or does marriage reveal the glory of God?
Marriage, love given others, worship for the sake of worship, tithes, prayers, etc. do not add to God or endow Him with any greater glory, you can't make the ocean more the ocean. These actions reveal and participate in the fullness of God, His identity and nature, which is His glory. To make God naked in the world, through our actions, thoughts, and words, is the greatest honor we can give God. To say, “This is who God Is.”, and have Him agree, is to say and give everything that can be said or given.
As our understanding of God’s desire for “His own glory” develops we see an amazing transition in how we relate to God. Watch what happens when we substitute "nakedness" for "glory" in a handful of scriptural passages:
“The heavens declare the nakedness of God; the sky displays his handiwork.” - Psalm 19:1
“When Jesus heard this, he said, “This sickness will not lead to death, but to God’s nakedness, so that the Son of God may be revealed through it.”” – John 11:4
“Jesus responded, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believe, you would see the nakedness of God?”” - John 11:40
“But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked intently toward heaven and saw the nakedness of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” – Acts 7:55
“…for all have sinned and fall short of the nakedness of God.” – Romans 3:23
“Receive one another, then, just as Christ also received you, to God’s nakedness.” – Romans 15:7
“So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the nakedness of God.” – 1 Corinthians 10:31
“For a man should not have his head covered, since he is the image and nakedness of God.” – 1 Corinthians 11:7a
And we all, with unveiled faces reflecting the nakedness of God, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, which is from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” – 2 Corinthians 3:18
“…and the temple was filled with smoke from God’s nakedness and from his power. Thus no one could enter the temple until the seven plagues from the seven angels were completed.” – Revelation 15:8
“The city possesses the nakedness of God; its brilliance is like a precious jewel, like a stone of crystal-clear jasper.” – Revelation 21:11
“The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, because the nakedness of God lights it up, and its lamp is the Lamb.” – Revelation 21:23
All joking aside, the exchange of nakedness for glory adds an intense intimacy and clarity to these passages. No longer is the purpose, or the power, linked to some ethereal concept or self-aggrandizement. The purpose and power of God is now linked with the clarity of His self-revelation. We can do all things to the glory of God, a concept difficult to conceptualizing, because everything good, everything of value, even in the most pedestrian way, has the capacity to reveal God.
The love of a father to a son, even in a secular family, reveals the nakedness of God in His desire for His creation. A father’s love for his son mimics, and in fact participates in, the nature of God. A Muslim man loving his child glorifies God, regardless of his or your theology, because through participation in God’s nature, the beauty of God is revealed and affirmed. God does not receive more glory; rather, the fullness of His glory comes more into light.
Monday, February 28, 2011
If I Loved
This is the first step of a new project, I hope it connects:
Cripples, the blind, homeless mothers… yeah, I’ve walked past them. Street kids, war orphans, refugees and sick babies… yup, I’ve ignored em. Crazy street people, naked wanderers, and the shit covered destitute… sure, they’ve made their way to my rearview mirror. Those with seeping flesh wounds, rancid with AIDS, or missing limbs begging on the side of the road… them too. My confession… I suck at loving.
It’s not that I’m not very good at loving others, as if I maintained some broken functionality. Nope, I’m downright lousy at it. My mom, my sisters, and some of my brothers possess this broken functionality - not me.
I don’t always walk past, but at one point or another I’ve walked past them all. I’d like to say the time spent touching, talking to, and praying for those in an African AIDS hospice; the street kids I’ve fed and walked with; the homeless and the sick I’ve given money to; the operations I’ve paid for; the hands I’ve held; smiles I’ve given; heads I’ve touched; tears I’ve shared; and prayers I’ve prayed balance out against my failures. Perhaps the good done soften the blows of those left undone. But these are self-centered thoughts; they focus on my value and feelings. Ironically, defending or nullifying my failure based on my success only serves to condemn me more. I can’t claim ignorance, only indifference. I know the ting to do and yet…I still fail.
Dwelling on past failures isn’t the point. Neither is this an exercise in lowering self-esteem. Building up guilt and shame, so as to “do better” in the future or get God to like me more, is an empty and destructive endeavor as well. No, this is something different.
This is a confession of brokenness – my brokenness. My success in loving others doesn’t mitigate my overwhelming failure; rather, my failure proves my success exceptional. My failure builds the walls that echo the whispers of a divine standard, a standard straining to make itself known. This standard is alien to my nature, yet it resides in passing moments of my life. The surprise is not that I love others so poorly; no, the surprise is I love others at all.
Cripples, the blind, homeless mothers… yeah, I’ve walked past them. Street kids, war orphans, refugees and sick babies… yup, I’ve ignored em. Crazy street people, naked wanderers, and the shit covered destitute… sure, they’ve made their way to my rearview mirror. Those with seeping flesh wounds, rancid with AIDS, or missing limbs begging on the side of the road… them too. My confession… I suck at loving.
It’s not that I’m not very good at loving others, as if I maintained some broken functionality. Nope, I’m downright lousy at it. My mom, my sisters, and some of my brothers possess this broken functionality - not me.
I don’t always walk past, but at one point or another I’ve walked past them all. I’d like to say the time spent touching, talking to, and praying for those in an African AIDS hospice; the street kids I’ve fed and walked with; the homeless and the sick I’ve given money to; the operations I’ve paid for; the hands I’ve held; smiles I’ve given; heads I’ve touched; tears I’ve shared; and prayers I’ve prayed balance out against my failures. Perhaps the good done soften the blows of those left undone. But these are self-centered thoughts; they focus on my value and feelings. Ironically, defending or nullifying my failure based on my success only serves to condemn me more. I can’t claim ignorance, only indifference. I know the ting to do and yet…I still fail.
Dwelling on past failures isn’t the point. Neither is this an exercise in lowering self-esteem. Building up guilt and shame, so as to “do better” in the future or get God to like me more, is an empty and destructive endeavor as well. No, this is something different.
This is a confession of brokenness – my brokenness. My success in loving others doesn’t mitigate my overwhelming failure; rather, my failure proves my success exceptional. My failure builds the walls that echo the whispers of a divine standard, a standard straining to make itself known. This standard is alien to my nature, yet it resides in passing moments of my life. The surprise is not that I love others so poorly; no, the surprise is I love others at all.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The anointing of rudeness and offense
While talking with one of the pastors yesterday I kept on having to shift. We were in a narrow-ish walkway, him on one wall and me leaning against the other (right next to a door). Every few minutes someone would come out of the door and stand there patiently. Eventually I would remember it's culturally rude to walk between two people in conversation, and the person was waiting for me to give them space to walk behind. As stupid as this seems to me, it doesn't bother me. It's culture, perhaps inconvenient, but neither right nor wrong. Don't walk between people in conversation, don't walk and eat at the same time, don't greet someone while there is food in their mouth, don't toss things to people, etc. not right, not wrong, just culture. I once got a Thai kid to crash his bike because I greeted him, hands together nod, while he was riding by. Adults aren't suppose to greet kids this way, too much respect, but kids are always supposed to greet adults this way. An adult greets you this way and you damn well return it, even if you're riding a bike down a dirt road. I won't say trying to get the kid to crash was the reason I did it, I'll just say I was curious. Don't feel bad for the kid, we both thought it was funny.
In any case, the pastor and I were talking about homosexuality and the church/pastor's correct response to it (kinda a huge deal here in Uganda right now). I made some points he agreed with, one sin isn't more disgusting than another, we are called to love the broken, not our place to condemn, is our place to confront brothers and sisters, etc., but he kept getting hung up on what that actually meant for a pastor. It took me a few minutes to realize his concern wasn't with what scripture said, but with how the community responded. He kept saying it was very difficult to know what to do. I agreed with him.
He was understandably concerned with how the community would respond to a church/pastor welcoming in non-defensive, repentant, struggling, and believing homosexuals. Culturally, homosexuality is a nasty thing out here and it is offensive to basic concepts of nature and community. It isn't just the Christians who have a problem with it. For a pastor to accept homosexuals into the congregation, almost certainly, would mean getting condemned by the larger community, getting rejected and persecuted by other pastors, and getting fired by his leaders or abandoned by his parishioners. In essence, it would destroy his "ministry". The pastor kept arguing, for the good of the community and to protect his witness, he couldn't accept homosexuals into the congregation (to the best of my knowledge, this is a hypothetical situation).
As we talked, and I mentioned he wasn't responsible to find the comfortable solution to challenges, or to be respectable in the eyes of the larger community and other pastors, I began to realize the situation wasn't that difficult - it wasn't all that challenging. I told him he was only responsible to be obedient to God and to ask "What does loving Jesus look like?"
In Matthew, Jesus says "Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when men cast insults at you, and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely, on account of Me. Rejoice, and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." He forgot to mention the people doing the persecuting, insulting, and lying weren't going to be "the world", as we so often fantasize, but or friends, family, congregations, fellow pastors, and elders. Remember those persecuted prophets Jesus mentioned? They were almost only ever persecuted by their own people.
Being a christian leader/christian, and making the "tough" decisions, is a lot easier when you recognize it isn't your decision, it isn't your job to moderate God for his own good, it isn't your job to be respectable, and it isn't your responsibility to make life comfortable. The job sucks and it's painful, but it is easy. It's your job to obey God. The gospel is rude and offensive; it always was and it was always meant to be. Respectability, places of honor, lower case kingdoms, and legions of adoring followers were never on the table for you to work towards. This might sound bad, but it's much easier obeying God, loving Jesus, and lead meaningful ministries when you just don't care about the other stuff.
Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, etc. are remembered, loved, honored, and respected. The morons, who made their lives miserable, stand forgotten or condemned.
In any case, the pastor and I were talking about homosexuality and the church/pastor's correct response to it (kinda a huge deal here in Uganda right now). I made some points he agreed with, one sin isn't more disgusting than another, we are called to love the broken, not our place to condemn, is our place to confront brothers and sisters, etc., but he kept getting hung up on what that actually meant for a pastor. It took me a few minutes to realize his concern wasn't with what scripture said, but with how the community responded. He kept saying it was very difficult to know what to do. I agreed with him.
He was understandably concerned with how the community would respond to a church/pastor welcoming in non-defensive, repentant, struggling, and believing homosexuals. Culturally, homosexuality is a nasty thing out here and it is offensive to basic concepts of nature and community. It isn't just the Christians who have a problem with it. For a pastor to accept homosexuals into the congregation, almost certainly, would mean getting condemned by the larger community, getting rejected and persecuted by other pastors, and getting fired by his leaders or abandoned by his parishioners. In essence, it would destroy his "ministry". The pastor kept arguing, for the good of the community and to protect his witness, he couldn't accept homosexuals into the congregation (to the best of my knowledge, this is a hypothetical situation).
As we talked, and I mentioned he wasn't responsible to find the comfortable solution to challenges, or to be respectable in the eyes of the larger community and other pastors, I began to realize the situation wasn't that difficult - it wasn't all that challenging. I told him he was only responsible to be obedient to God and to ask "What does loving Jesus look like?"
In Matthew, Jesus says "Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when men cast insults at you, and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely, on account of Me. Rejoice, and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." He forgot to mention the people doing the persecuting, insulting, and lying weren't going to be "the world", as we so often fantasize, but or friends, family, congregations, fellow pastors, and elders. Remember those persecuted prophets Jesus mentioned? They were almost only ever persecuted by their own people.
Being a christian leader/christian, and making the "tough" decisions, is a lot easier when you recognize it isn't your decision, it isn't your job to moderate God for his own good, it isn't your job to be respectable, and it isn't your responsibility to make life comfortable. The job sucks and it's painful, but it is easy. It's your job to obey God. The gospel is rude and offensive; it always was and it was always meant to be. Respectability, places of honor, lower case kingdoms, and legions of adoring followers were never on the table for you to work towards. This might sound bad, but it's much easier obeying God, loving Jesus, and lead meaningful ministries when you just don't care about the other stuff.
Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, etc. are remembered, loved, honored, and respected. The morons, who made their lives miserable, stand forgotten or condemned.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Stupid Ethics!
So here is an ethics question for you,
On Friday Ugandans voted in a presidential election. Everyone, except the sitting president (Museveni) and a few of his party people, acknowledged that the fix was in. The fix is always in during an African election. The strange thing is, the president is a fairly popular and probably didn't need to "bend" the vote (as nearly everyone assumes he, or his people, did). He ended up winning with 68% of the vote, his closest/only real competition officially collected 26%. Based on conversations, my non scientific guess is 50% to 38+% would have been a more honest result.
Facts: Museveni was going to be accused of manipulating the election results regardless of what he did; elections in Africa are a form of bloodsport; had the election been close, rioting and violence would have been much more likely; some of the losers are huffing and puffing, but it looks like everyone is going to peacefully accept the result.
Question: Ethically speaking, did the ruling party, hypothetically, do the right thing? By playing with the vote, even though they probably didn't need to, the manufactured popularity of the president, likely, reduced the tension of an election where the result was a forgone conclusion (regardless of the result, Museveni wasn't leaving office).
I hate how EVERYTHING is corrupt out here, and I hate how people expect and often accept it. More than that, I hate how people get "staby" when elections and politics, decided down tribal lines, blow up and a bunch of innocents get raped and dead (see nearly every country on the continent over the last 50 years). At what point do you say, "I don't like it, but it's better than the likely alternative"?
On Friday Ugandans voted in a presidential election. Everyone, except the sitting president (Museveni) and a few of his party people, acknowledged that the fix was in. The fix is always in during an African election. The strange thing is, the president is a fairly popular and probably didn't need to "bend" the vote (as nearly everyone assumes he, or his people, did). He ended up winning with 68% of the vote, his closest/only real competition officially collected 26%. Based on conversations, my non scientific guess is 50% to 38+% would have been a more honest result.
Facts: Museveni was going to be accused of manipulating the election results regardless of what he did; elections in Africa are a form of bloodsport; had the election been close, rioting and violence would have been much more likely; some of the losers are huffing and puffing, but it looks like everyone is going to peacefully accept the result.
Question: Ethically speaking, did the ruling party, hypothetically, do the right thing? By playing with the vote, even though they probably didn't need to, the manufactured popularity of the president, likely, reduced the tension of an election where the result was a forgone conclusion (regardless of the result, Museveni wasn't leaving office).
I hate how EVERYTHING is corrupt out here, and I hate how people expect and often accept it. More than that, I hate how people get "staby" when elections and politics, decided down tribal lines, blow up and a bunch of innocents get raped and dead (see nearly every country on the continent over the last 50 years). At what point do you say, "I don't like it, but it's better than the likely alternative"?
Monday, February 14, 2011
Drug of choice?
Two things are resting in my mind, and a third is growing.
A friend linked me to this post and a few days ago a westerner heading home made a comment about how tough spending time here is because of the way of life (not culturally, but in the "everything is broken" sense). I agree with both.
My first time to east Africa, some ten years ago, I regularly wrestled the desire to blow stuff up. When oppression wears the face of presidents, police, fathers, pastors, and tribal leaders (institutionalized and top down) it makes you think a clean slate is the only fix. I'm yet to see corruption benefit the corrupter in the long term. Yet, in so many settings, it is the coin of the day. The Bush boys, Obama, Clinton, Carter, and Reagan, regardless your political beliefs, would all resemble the stuff of Washington and Lincoln in most of the governments on this continent. We are truly privileged to be able to complain about the indiscretions and policies of Bush and Obama; though, Mandella lives well above both.
I'm not sure Westerners are blessed; we are certainly privileged. With minuscule exceptions, we were born with silver spoons. Contrary to popular white guilt/shame, this isn't our fault. Fault may belong to our ancestors, but that standard would condemn every people group throughout history. You can hate Bill Gates for his programs or actions, just don't hate him for his father or his money.
One reasons I'm grateful to be in Uganda has nothing to do with my spirituality, compassion, or "Super Christian" status, it contrasts these fictions. I'm grateful to be in a "challenging" and "broken" setting because I suck at Christianity, compassion, and spirituality. Believe me, if I was good at them, I'd be running a dive shop in the Caribbean, smoking Cubans, brewing beer, and fleecing tourists. I'm grateful to be here because "being here" forces me to depend on God, to depend on God's blessing rather than my privilege.
The people of the Beatitudes weren't blessed because of privilege or success. They were blessed because they were broken and they knew it. They were blessed because they knew they couldn't depend on themselves; they only had God. Who is closer to redemption and healing, the addict with a bankroll or the one flaming at the bottom?
A friend linked me to this post and a few days ago a westerner heading home made a comment about how tough spending time here is because of the way of life (not culturally, but in the "everything is broken" sense). I agree with both.
My first time to east Africa, some ten years ago, I regularly wrestled the desire to blow stuff up. When oppression wears the face of presidents, police, fathers, pastors, and tribal leaders (institutionalized and top down) it makes you think a clean slate is the only fix. I'm yet to see corruption benefit the corrupter in the long term. Yet, in so many settings, it is the coin of the day. The Bush boys, Obama, Clinton, Carter, and Reagan, regardless your political beliefs, would all resemble the stuff of Washington and Lincoln in most of the governments on this continent. We are truly privileged to be able to complain about the indiscretions and policies of Bush and Obama; though, Mandella lives well above both.
I'm not sure Westerners are blessed; we are certainly privileged. With minuscule exceptions, we were born with silver spoons. Contrary to popular white guilt/shame, this isn't our fault. Fault may belong to our ancestors, but that standard would condemn every people group throughout history. You can hate Bill Gates for his programs or actions, just don't hate him for his father or his money.
One reasons I'm grateful to be in Uganda has nothing to do with my spirituality, compassion, or "Super Christian" status, it contrasts these fictions. I'm grateful to be in a "challenging" and "broken" setting because I suck at Christianity, compassion, and spirituality. Believe me, if I was good at them, I'd be running a dive shop in the Caribbean, smoking Cubans, brewing beer, and fleecing tourists. I'm grateful to be here because "being here" forces me to depend on God, to depend on God's blessing rather than my privilege.
The people of the Beatitudes weren't blessed because of privilege or success. They were blessed because they were broken and they knew it. They were blessed because they knew they couldn't depend on themselves; they only had God. Who is closer to redemption and healing, the addict with a bankroll or the one flaming at the bottom?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)