Incarnation

A lot about me has changed in the past four months, and my understanding of Christmas is no different. Beyond simply struggling with the hectic pace, the materialism, the “jolliness” covering up the underlying attitude of stress and anxiety. I think my appreciation of Christmas in its very essence has deepened, and changed.

There’s a word that floats around this time of year in our churches, Christmas carols and stories: Emmanuel, “God-with-us.” It’s an idea we’ve all heard about in one form or another, but it’s something I really hadn’t put my whole mind around before. I may not be there yet still.

The first use of the word “Immanuel” in the Bible comes in the time of the prophet Isaiah. Israel is facing utter distruction at the hands of her enemies, and hope seems all but gone. In this context, Isaiah declares, “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel (Isa 7:14).” So, if the context of the passage means anything to the verse, this promise of God-with-us has direct importance on the coming army intent on destroying Israel. If God is with us, in that case, it brings a sense of protection from the enemy – a protection that we could never have on our own.

This view of God-with-us has some interesting implications. For hundreds of years the Israelites awaited the fulfillment of many promises like this one. They waited in eager anticipation of how God would send His chosen leader and restore His chosen people to prominence: He would drive the oppressors out and bring freedom to Israel. As a result, they expected a great leader who would rise up and become king and return glory to the country. In this view, this great leader, or Messiah, would come in power and strength. That’s the way that would be fitting of a God: dignified, honored, radiant, strong.

But, I think the concept of “God-with-us” goes a bit deeper than simply that. If Immanuel is that great leader who uses his incredible power, majesty and strength to help us, then how “with us” can he truly be? As human beings, we sit in a lowly state. We’re weak, petty, and small-minded. We can’t comprehend the wonders, the glorious things of God. All through the Bible are examples of humans falling flat before God, recognizing their unworthiness. If this inequality is the basic description of our relationship with God, then “God-with-us” must mean something a little more different than what it sounds. Perhaps it acts more as an expression of “God-on-our-side”: He may choose to help us in our needs and struggles, but ultimately, the relationship is imbalanced – He remains in the high and mighty position, and we’re still quite human, broken and unworthy.

But isn’t that the way it should be? Kings shouldn’t be living on the street with the riffraff; they may try to help them, to feed them, but they should never themselves live among the poorest beggars on the street, right? Shouldn’t God – the essence of all that is pure, holy and good – refuse to be placed on the same level as the rest of us? Isn’t that an affront to our very basic idea of order?

I think there’s a great problem here – in the baby Jesus, there’s a remarkable scandal. For the perfect God to stoop down and become one of us, he had to relinquish his glory, his dignity, his wealth. Knowing full well that we will never be able to approach & share in the wonderful community of God, God was willing to accept the humiliation of living among us – and beyond that, as the percieved “illegitimate” child of a poor family. At the expense of his own comfort, Jesus came to show us a more beautiful way of living. “God with us” comes at a great price.

And perhaps this is the true depth of Immanuel. Not in the way that a great God can see problems from up high, change them and make us better people. No, this is much more personal, much more horizontal. John writes that “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” By becoming human, by entering our world of pain, suffering, discomfort and loneliness, God can truly understand and commiserate with us. Henri Nouwen writes that “Compassion means going directly to those people and places where suffering is most acute and building a home there.” Not to try to “fix” people from above (while in Africa I often saw how such “pure” motivations lead to a dehumanizing effect on both the “fixer” and the “fixed”), but instead to simply share with them, to be with them on a level where true communication, understanding & relationship can take place. From there, I think, Jesus can transform our lives and push us on to bigger and better things. But that works best not as a person delegating and acting from above, but instead in the mode of a journey, where both can walk together through the process of growth.

All that being said, this idea can be summed up by Paul’s words in Philippians about Jesus:

“Who, Being in very nature God,

Did not consider equality with God something to be grasped

But made himself nothing,

Taking on the very nature of a servant,

Being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man

He humbled himself… (Php 2:6-8a)

As a servant, emptied of the desire to be “Godlike” and holy, Jesus comes down to our level and acts as our servant (the NRSV translation goes even further and says “slave”).

And, to my chagrin, right before this passage comes a challenge:

“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.” (Php 2:5)

Wait…I’m supposed to live this way?

I began to see the implications of this kind of life, to see this incarnation, in Sierra Leone. Admittedly, I have a ways to go. As a rich Westerner, I came from a percieved “higher” position to Africa – I had all the wealth, the education, the pedigree. My wealth, in all its forms, made me see myself as a person able to “help” the people I met reach a higher level. And, perhaps after years of recieving from aid organizations, so many Sierra Leoneans had been conditioned to see themselves as “takers,” on an implicitly lower level than me. I struggled with the imbalance of these relationships, recognizing their unhealthiness and the walls put up between truly getting to understand and relate. I guess I tried to live in the “God on my side” mentality, where I, high on my life and in my comforts, would trying to help them grow – but from a place far away from their poverty.

I grew to understand a little bit more about what Immanuel, the Incarnation of Christ, truly means. I saw how the example of “God-with-us” involves a self-emptying, a voluntary choice of living a humble life, of going down to the level of those around me. I struggle with desires of greatness – I’d love to have the honor, praise and glory of a successful life. If I would have the same attitude of Christ Jesus, then, would I have to empty myself of that idea, understanding the extent to which those hopes cause such great divisions between the wealthy and the poor? And beyond that, to become their servant, to give up my prerogatives for their sake – and perhaps recognize that, in the grand scheme of things, there really never were any of these percieved inequalities of wealth between us? I think that may lead to true community.

And so, my view of the baby Jesus has changed. While it’s true that the whole scene is characterized by humility and meekness, there’s a difficult challenge behind it all – one that takes incredible strength.

Re-Entry

It’s already been 3 days since returning from Sierra Leone.  It’s been strange coming back on so many different levels- there’s seeing friends and family for the first time in a good while, finally being able to see a Colts game this year, dealing with cold weather again.  Above all, it seems like I’ve been struggling most with fatigue.

I’ve been busy.  We’ve had lots of meetings with family, getting prepared for Christmas, seeing my dad off to Wyoming, and various other errands & things to do.  For the past 4 months, I’ve been used to a much slower pace of life, and coming back here has drained me.  It may take a while for me to get used to the mile-a-minute American way, especially during the peak of the Christmas season.

Beyond simply being tired, though, I see another great danger from this busy schedule.  Coming out of one culture and into another is difficult.  It’s even more difficult when the cultures are so different as they are between Sierra Leone & the U.S.  If I can’t find time to settle down, think about things, process & reflect, I’ll only get more and more grumpy, frustrated and exhausted.

As I was packing up, saying good-bye and finishing up all the things I had to do in Africa, I recognized that I was now facing a challenge that may prove to be more difficult than anything I had seen & learned in Sierra Leone.  If I want to keep the memories of the people I’d met, the ways God has come near, the struggles on every street in Freetown, I’ll have to work hard to keep my mind centered & focused.  As Faye told us so many times during the past 4 months, Servant Teams are not designed for people to “get a notch on their bedpost,” to say they went to Africa, do some work, and then come home and continue their regular, normal life.  The things I’ve seen, the ways God has blessed the work I’ve been a part of, all those have been incredible, joyful, and memorable experiences.  But, those kinds of experiences bring a sense of responsibility.  The friendships I’ve made, the people I went to love, the God whose example I’ve tried so hard to follow…All these things, in a sense, have been investments into my life.  They’ve taught me so much, given me strength, encouragement, the abililty to trust in God.  I left with a sense of being commissioned by them to return to America with a greater sense of purpose.  I have to take Africa home, and allow myself to be changed in the experience.

It’s both good and bad, then, that I come home at the most stressful time of the entire year.  Christmas, in all its wonderful celebrations of friends, family, togetherness, and the gift of the Incarnation (which I will need to blog about in greater detail later), brings hassles and stresses of its own.  I’m always on the go.

So, now comes the struggle for me to be able to really sit down, rest, and think.  I’m committed to remaining firmly in between both worlds, eager to engage and celebrate with my friends & family here, but also unwilling to let go everything I saw & learned.  I have to figure out what God’s expecting of me from his “investment” of the past four months.  I need to see what it takes to be able to live here with the same mentality, attitude and excitement toward life I had in Sierra Leone.  And, that’s not something I can simply do in-between all the other things I’ve put on my to-do list.

So, I’ll need to process a lot more things during the next few weeks before I head back to college.  I’ll be blogging a lot more, I hope, and I’m eager to share with you the lessons I think God is still putting before me.  I no longer have the limitations of internet cafes, so I should be able to articulate my thoughts a little bit better.  And please feel free to ask me questions, make observations, and challenge my views – maybe you’ll be able to help me figure some things out.

Until next time.  Apparently, this journey is not quite over yet.

One last time

With time winding down, I think this will probably be the last time I’ll be able to spend time at the internet cafe until I head back.  I’m sure at this point, the Christmas season is in full swing.  As for me, I’ve spent the past week dealing with a heat rash – not exactly what I’m used to in December.

But, in 2 weeks I’ll be back in the States, trying to piece together exactly how my time in Sierra Leone has changed me.  We’ve begun to think about everything we’ve all learned here, what it means for our lives back home, and where God is calling to us next.  Right now, at this very moment, all I know is that I’ve still got some college to finish up.  It’s good to have that much settled – I would hate to have to figure out anything long-term beyond that right now.

So, since I’ve got so much thinking to do, I’d love to be able to sit down and share what I’ve been learning, struggling with, dealing with, and forcing myself to do.  So, when I return, feel free to ask me how my time was in Africa – I’d love to be able to talk through some of the issues I’m thinking about, ways to bring the lessons I’ve learned here back home.

But, before I go silent for a few weeks,  I’ll just share one general observation about the past 4 months:

Throughout this whole time here I have been amazed at how “real” my faith has been here.  From interacting with people on the street, to our Bible studies and prayer times, there has been a remarkable concreteness to everything that I’m learning and observing.  I think there’s something about leaving your own culture that removes some of the blinders we put up on how we see God and our lives, and getting away from that has helped me understand in greater depth the teachings of Jesus in this place.

So take, for example, a few teachings of Jesus: I’ve always known, for instance, that it’s better to store up treasures in heaven instead of treasures here on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  It’s a basic philosophical idea: the things of this earth don’t last, eventually everything will break down.

Here in Africa, though, it seems like those things break down so much quickly; thieves are much much more likely to break in and steal (just ask Faye & Cami – it’s a very common thing to see holes in the windows where people have fished out items from their house).  So, what I’ve known and believed as a mere philosophical idea actually has a real-world, concrete element of truth that I hadn’t seen before.  At a time when I’ve tried so hard to think about how to live simply, without an abundance of “things,” having this basic lesson come to life in such a tangible way has been an excellent reminder.

I look forward to being able to talk more on December 18.