Every Christmas, 75 000 coloured bulbs lights light up Victoria park in London Ontario. I just happened to be in town for the official “lighting of the lights” kick-off celebration. Always one for organized fun, I attended the festivities with a friend. We stood and counted down to the inevitable flip-of-the-switch with the crowd of thousands of locals, drinking our starbucks coffee out of our red paper cups. As the crowd cheered, the park became illuminated with tiny lights, for the first of many nights to come. We looked out into the brightly lit surroundings. Took sips from our $5.00 coffee. Looked at our red cups. Laughed at the irony.
“Merry Christmas white middle-class North America!” my sarcastic friend said. “Enjoy your lights!”
It really is ironic. I just came from a country that hasn’t had electricity since the war and are thrilled to finally have street lights.
If you’re reading this, my consistent moral dilemma with living a holy, God-centered, socially-responsible life in North America is probably not news to you. It’s not that Africa ruined me. At the risk of sounding like a catharsis-seeking, back-pack-clad, Europe-bound college grad, I would instead say it helped me find me. I would never want to go back to the me that I was before. I want to continually engulf myself in situations that will challenge me to become more like the me that I am sure God always had planned.
It’s harder here. It’s been six months since I could hop in a landrover on a Saturday morning, drive for half an hour down a pot-hole-filled dirt road and end up serving as a human jungle-gym for 25 filthy, beautiful, little orphans. Six months since I rocked Baby Greg to sleep at night. Six months since I taught patients how to clean their surgical wounds in Liberian English. Six months since I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was serving. That I was right exactly where God wanted me to be. Doing exactly what he desired.
But now I am here. And, as surprising as this may sound, critical analysis of randomized control trials evaluating the efficacy of intensive behavioural intervention doesn’t feel nearly as purposeful as any of the above mentioned activities. And, I drink Starbucks. And our family Christmas just involved the exchange of two GPS’s, an ipod, a children’s videocamera, a digital photo-frame, a cushy computer-desk-chair, and some very pretty boots (unfortunately not for me)…all of which were received with gracious gratitude, but also, all of which we would continue to go on eating, sleeping, and breathing without.
So, how does it work? Because, here is where we are. Wherever we find ourselves, that is where we have been placed. And that is where we are expected to live holy, righteous, admirable, outstanding lives. And it has to be possible. Because we all aren’t called to live in the bush in West Africa. We all aren’t called preach to thousands on Sunday mornings. We all aren’t capable of running a charitable organization.
Which leads me to believe that it has to be in the little things. Wherever life places you, it has to be possible to live an absolutely God-honouring life. Even in white, middle-class North-America. Even while taking part in the consumerism-driven version of Christmas that our society has created.
Because, there is nothing wrong with the mini-lights. There is nothing wrong with the GPS. And, I refuse to think there is anything wrong with boots (and if there is, that will need to be an entirely different blog, because I just have way too many feelings about boots to express here). I think there is only something wrong with them all if we care about them more than the other things.
Those “little things” - the everyday choices that we can make to be the person God wants us to be in the time and place we are in- were part of this Christmas as well. We received “red” gifts from my brother, because, (in his own words) “As we intentionally sow/spend with companies that are intentionally generous... they will be motivated to continue because they'll see profit and benefit”. I bought a mosquito net on behalf of everyone in my family, for a family in Liberia. We cut out all the extra stuff that you usually get for Christmas, to make the stockings and the bottom of the tree look more full, but that nobody really needs or at the end of the day even wants. We’re definitely not single-handedly saving the world. But maybe we are starting to think about the fact that our little choices have the potential to do so.
I just read a quote from Steven Harper about how we may be living in the most prosperous, peaceful land in the world. If he is right, then we are blessed. And there has to be a way to live in this land without a sense of guilt. To invest in our economy and find joy in the blessings, yet still live with a deliberate awareness of our responsibility to enrich others out of our blessing. I am not claiming to have figured this out. But, I hoping I am starting to find the right path.
“Merry Christmas white middle-class North America!” my sarcastic friend said. “Enjoy your lights!”
It really is ironic. I just came from a country that hasn’t had electricity since the war and are thrilled to finally have street lights.
If you’re reading this, my consistent moral dilemma with living a holy, God-centered, socially-responsible life in North America is probably not news to you. It’s not that Africa ruined me. At the risk of sounding like a catharsis-seeking, back-pack-clad, Europe-bound college grad, I would instead say it helped me find me. I would never want to go back to the me that I was before. I want to continually engulf myself in situations that will challenge me to become more like the me that I am sure God always had planned.
It’s harder here. It’s been six months since I could hop in a landrover on a Saturday morning, drive for half an hour down a pot-hole-filled dirt road and end up serving as a human jungle-gym for 25 filthy, beautiful, little orphans. Six months since I rocked Baby Greg to sleep at night. Six months since I taught patients how to clean their surgical wounds in Liberian English. Six months since I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was serving. That I was right exactly where God wanted me to be. Doing exactly what he desired.
But now I am here. And, as surprising as this may sound, critical analysis of randomized control trials evaluating the efficacy of intensive behavioural intervention doesn’t feel nearly as purposeful as any of the above mentioned activities. And, I drink Starbucks. And our family Christmas just involved the exchange of two GPS’s, an ipod, a children’s videocamera, a digital photo-frame, a cushy computer-desk-chair, and some very pretty boots (unfortunately not for me)…all of which were received with gracious gratitude, but also, all of which we would continue to go on eating, sleeping, and breathing without.
So, how does it work? Because, here is where we are. Wherever we find ourselves, that is where we have been placed. And that is where we are expected to live holy, righteous, admirable, outstanding lives. And it has to be possible. Because we all aren’t called to live in the bush in West Africa. We all aren’t called preach to thousands on Sunday mornings. We all aren’t capable of running a charitable organization.
Which leads me to believe that it has to be in the little things. Wherever life places you, it has to be possible to live an absolutely God-honouring life. Even in white, middle-class North-America. Even while taking part in the consumerism-driven version of Christmas that our society has created.
Because, there is nothing wrong with the mini-lights. There is nothing wrong with the GPS. And, I refuse to think there is anything wrong with boots (and if there is, that will need to be an entirely different blog, because I just have way too many feelings about boots to express here). I think there is only something wrong with them all if we care about them more than the other things.
Those “little things” - the everyday choices that we can make to be the person God wants us to be in the time and place we are in- were part of this Christmas as well. We received “red” gifts from my brother, because, (in his own words) “As we intentionally sow/spend with companies that are intentionally generous... they will be motivated to continue because they'll see profit and benefit”. I bought a mosquito net on behalf of everyone in my family, for a family in Liberia. We cut out all the extra stuff that you usually get for Christmas, to make the stockings and the bottom of the tree look more full, but that nobody really needs or at the end of the day even wants. We’re definitely not single-handedly saving the world. But maybe we are starting to think about the fact that our little choices have the potential to do so.
I just read a quote from Steven Harper about how we may be living in the most prosperous, peaceful land in the world. If he is right, then we are blessed. And there has to be a way to live in this land without a sense of guilt. To invest in our economy and find joy in the blessings, yet still live with a deliberate awareness of our responsibility to enrich others out of our blessing. I am not claiming to have figured this out. But, I hoping I am starting to find the right path.