South Africa - A Spot of Reflection with your Tea (Part 4)

Hey Gang,

I realize this post has come a tad late compared to the others. I hope you enjoy. 

Reflecting on Reflecting

During the course of this summer I have had many opportunities to reflect on the immediate impact significant experiences have had on my views of ministry. I have spent time as a pastoral care official visiting families affected by aids and battling the effects of poverty. I have worked in townships delivering goods and services, trying to ease the uncertainty of future meals. I have served rural Zulu communities, assisting in running services in a language not my own. I have also celebrated the grace of God conveyed to me in the simple smile of a mother glad to have had us pray over her children, even in language she does not understand; in the gift of a handshake of fellow worshipers glad to have us in their midst on a Sunday morning; in the generosity of hosts graciously receiving us, welcoming us to experience a taste of their proud culture These experiences have been challenging yet formative. Reflecting on them in the rawness of the moment, often soon after my arrival back to the routine of my flats in Pietermaritzburg, I wrestled with the strong emotional impact of encountering poverty, injustice and despair in a tangible form. Through all these events and in so many ways I have done my best to process through these events openly and honestly. This reflection does not seek to look back upon those moments, as a way to capture past emotional valleys and peaks, but rather, seeks to reflect more holistically on the summer and the way in which I feel God is working in my life.

This altered vantage on reflection came through the gift of being allowed to attend classes at the Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary with my fellow brothers and sisters training for the ministry. The lectures I have been privy too are a component of the larger seminary initiative referred to as pastoral intensives. These represent three weeks of classes in which we are called as seminarians to listen and learn. Formation is the ultimate goal of these three weeks. Naturally, there is a steady rhythm I entered into while attending these sessions, things began to slow down and I felt more at ease relaxed. For the first time this summer I felt myself beginning to reflect on the big picture: my call, the call of those in South Africa and how these two calls fit together into the greater framework of God's mission to restore all of creation. I was blessed to have as one of my lecturers the Rev. Dr. Peter Storey who spoke to us about forming transforming congregations. The exact strategies, norms and experience rich tidbits will not be endless enumerated here. However, what I did find captivating was the sense of energy and passion directed to the church's mission. I felt convicted that God's mission is indeed serious business and we must be willingly to respectfully push past people who desire to resist it over giving up present comforts. 

I reflect on that point in the context of my summer as a whole and I realize the truth in the sentiment. I cannot make anymore excuses about why worship services must not include certain groups of mixed individuals because of style and preferences. I can no longer feel comfortable that different ethnic backgrounds have churches of their own to tend to them while I have a certain sect to reach. For that matter, I cannot focus solely on Sunday worship as the primary ministry of the church simultaneously ignoring the needs of the surrounding community. Coming to South Africa was the first step in a crucial journey of discovering what God is up to in the world. My initial findings indicate this includes much more than a front row reservations in our churches. God is out caring for the poor, destitute and oppressed. God is searching for marginalized to give them comfort and support. In order to be a faithful witness of the Gospel the notion must be dispelled that the serious business of the church happens only in the sanctuary. We must become aware that others around the world are hurting and alone begging for relief. Church's must be a hospital for the infirm not a last bastion against the lepers storming our gates. My eyes have been opened by entering into a context that is not my own and where I have no natural place. Without the distraction of comfort and ease of disconnected bliss, I am forced to face the hard realities I described above. I should say I am blessed to have my eyes opened anew to the realities stated above. Truly I have received a “second touch from Jesus” opening my eyes to the suffering of others. 

Going froward from this reflection I want to emphasis that these conclusions come not from one event but many just as we are called not to serve one specific group of individuals but many. The summation of my formation this summer revolves around a critical understanding of the multiple ways the divine initiative intersects with the everyday. God is a vibrant living creator desperately stretching to scoop the broken and downtrodden into His arms. Our context and cultures cannot hide us from the earnest calling of our Lord to serve. 

I also wanted to share I prayer with you that I developed during the course of planning a worship service with the seminarians here at Seth Mokitimi. I hope this may be of some reflective use to you in your personal or communal devotions.

To the God of the Bended Knee

Abba, Father, we come before thee,

Offering our thanksgiving to the God of the bended knee.

With a mighty chorus of praise and expectancy, we proclaim your holy name,

Your mercies and blessings cascade down upon us from the heavenly fount. 

God of the bended knee, we thank you for the opportunity to pray in community,

We thank you that as we bow our heads, joining in one prayer, our postures support one another in a mighty declaration of your love, that we find unity in a community responsive to your calling.

God of the bended knee, we thank you for this community, for the gift of life granted to every individual that worships here today, especially those who commemorate that miraculous day of giving, we cherish them Lord, our brothers and sisters who now kneel amongst us, we are this community only as long as they are here, we are this community because they are here, thank you for the gift of their  presence, talents and service.

God of the bended knee, we thank you that we are a united community granted a vision of service, that in our prone position, we are given your strength, that in our submission, we are liberated, that in our meekness, we have unrelenting courage, that in our posture of fragility, we are given renewed life

God of the bended knee, thank you for the gift of knowing what it means to be a servant.

God of the bended knee, we thank for the ability to serve in light of this vision, we thank you for the opportunity to lift our neighbors up as we submit ourselves below, we thank you for the opportunity to minister to broken hearts as our own willing break overflowing with compassion,  we thank you for our opportunity to help the handicapped and impaired who we see only as your beautiful creations, we thank you for the opportunity to see the deserted places at our tables as room for the outcast and the beggar. God of the bended knee, thank you for allowing our hearts to bend like our savior Jesus Christ.

Bless us oh Lord, keep our knees bent, and our vision focused on the work laid before us,

Amen

Until we blog again,

Jamison

South Africa - A Spot of Reflection with your Tea (Part 3)

 Hey Gang,

I just returned from a chilly stint in the Bulwer Circuit of the Methodist Church of South Africa. I stayed in the small rural village of Impendle serving over 35 small congregations as a circuit minister. Below is a reflection on my experiences.

Silent Shout

Interesting how the insight gained from one reflection sets the table for fresh experiences. Last time I recounted my struggles to accept the space of silence as a means to properly align my service. I spent a considerable time listening and watching without much hands on family fun ministry experience. This came to be a blessing as I realized that in my quiet posture God was speaking to me of what it takes to be Christian community. One must have a willingness to serve in any capacity without expectation or run the risk as I did to feel undervalued and misplaced. This is of course pride blurring the reality of God's grand design, yet, I recognize in the moment it can be a hard thing to grasp. I am thankful for that illumination in my life and renewed perspective on what it means to be called servant. So, just as I was settling into that role, of course I would find myself in the deep end of the Bulwer Circuit leading services and assisting with communion. Truly the Lord works in mysterious ways.

The transition was not a complete 180, however, with me at the forefront of revolutionary tent revivals or establishing state of the art ecclesial structures. The Bulwer Circuit is a rural Zulu community stretching for kilometers into the foothills of the Drakensberg Mountains. Essentially, my culture experience revolved around a predominately black community that spoke Zulu or Xhosa. English was not a guaranteed at any location and for most of my visitations the only language spoken was not my own. I resided for just over two weeks in the tiny village of Impendle, where the only white individuals in the area were my fellow Duke students. I represented less than 1/2% of the population. I cannot describe the sensation of walking by myself early in the morning to meet Reverend Victor, senior pastor on the circuit, and see no other white faces. I was not frightened or alarmed, fearing that my next skip over a dusty road pothole might be my last. I bring this to the forefront of conversation for the simple fact that this had never been the case before. I had never been a minority in any real sense of the word. I grew up in the United States where whites are still the majority, yet here, for the first time, I found myself the extreme outsider in a sea of normality. I encountered mothers walking their children to school and elderly women carrying logs on their heads back to their huts in order to stoke a fire for warmth all stopping to look at the tall white American in a preaching collar and jacket. I was asked many questions in Zulu, requiring me to politely indicate I did not speak the native tongue. All that was left were hearty handshakes and smiles, hospitality extended without words. 

The emotions I experienced due to a complete detachment form recognizable American cultural comforts feel to me like a reflection genesis point for understanding how apartheid affected South Africans. I say this delicately and carefully so as to not over sensationalize my experience. I encountered nothing close to the political and economical isolation forced on blacks by the ruling white regime. I was surrounded by warmth and greetings welcoming me into a society not my own. I speak of this as a genesis point because in many ways the experience does take some getting used too. I was in more than favorable circumstances and still found myself adrift in a foreign culture desperate to get my legs under for fear of being swept away. How much more the apartheid forced relocation must have affected so many South Africans. I imagine it to be a magnification of my small irritation to find the bathroom to entire communities desperate to hold onto cultural identities amid geographic relocation. As I walked the streets of Impendle, apartheid became less of a historical event to write term papers on in history class and become more a multifaceted reality affecting all senses. I still have much to learn and experience before I can claim to be close to understanding what South Africans endured during apartheid, but I take heart in the small revelation given to me by God in the clear morning air of Bulwer's rolling hills.

From all my experiences listed above the primary emotion that lingers after my time in Bulwer is hope that our societies may once again be reunited. This process depends on the place and circumstances. This process will be challenging and difficult. This process cannot be completed by human agency but will only find resolution in the direct involvement of a sovereign God. When I speak of hope, I speak of the hope found in the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ and the bleeding heart of our Savior desiring communities to reconcile, beating the weapons of hate into plowshares ready to harvest the fruit of the kingdom. I saw this in Pastor Victor who visited aging church members too feeble to make it for services, delivering communion and the gift of presence. I saw it in the eyes of shrunken wrinkled faces startled by the presence of white ministers, yet soundly appreciative of our presence. I offered many prayers in English and only two families could understand my words. Most we visited got nothing from eloquent prose or our seminarian tongues. The gratitude came from the simple fact that we entered their huts and broke bread with them. In essence, gratitude sprung from the formation of Christian community. 

The longer I spent in Impendle, the less awkward and out of place I felt. My initial feelings of discomfort and temporary isolation gave way to genuine love for my neighbors. Discomfort became joy and hesitation became renewed strength. The answer to hate will always be love. In order to love we must embrace our concurrent human condition and remember that Christian community must include all communities. Hate prevails when we fail to remember that the forms we pass by on the roadside unheeded, have beautiful souls yet undiscovered. I had no voice these last two weeks. I was not readily understand, but I was readily accepted. Truly such relationships cannot be far from the kingdom of God.

Until we blog again,

Jamison