God Is Able

As an InterVarsity staffworker who has given cross-cultural training to a few dozen students, I have been surprised by my ability to red-line in Kenya during my time as Link staff. Despite my years of experience with the Entry Posture Diagram, green-lining has been a struggle indeed. Taking the approach of openness (“okay, what can I learn here?”), acceptance (“whatever happens, happens”), trust (“Kenyans are friendly and hospitable on average”), and adaptability (“this experience will be good for me, so go with it”) has been easy at times and the farthest thing from my mind at other times. Instead, having an attitude of suspicion (“okay, this guy looks like he might rob me”), fear (“I just know I’m gonna get carjacked in ‘Nairobbery’”), prejudice (“this guy must not be educated”), and superiority (“no wonder your country has so many problems!”), has been too natural for me.

I have found the “cross-cultural inevitables” oh so inevitable. Did the designers of the Entry Posture Diagram have a prophetic word about me in Kenya during 2004 when they came up with the model? I have been frustrated like never before (“I did not realize these colorful words were such a part of my vocabulary.”) Confusion has reigned at times (“why in the world would anyone possibly do it that way?”) I have experienced tension so strong that it has affected me physically (e.g. fearing the police for the first time in my life.) As a person not embarrassed that easily, I have often wanted to crawl under rocks (“I just want to be around people with whom I don’t have to explain myself.”) Misunderstanding has usually been the key reason for the last cross-cultural inevitable (“wow, I thought I learned lessons about assuming things in my own cultural setting.”) And finally, aggression has been the scariest and most surprising of all the inevitables (“from where did all this anger come?”).

In response to these cross-cultural inevitables, I wish I could say that my choices have usually followed the green path. Sometimes I have chosen to observe (“let me watch more closely and learn something”), listen (“let me make sure I hear him completely”), inquire (“can you tell me more about that?”), and initiate (“I should try and learn since I am on their turf.”). At too many other times I have chosen to criticize (“that is so stupid!”), rationalize (“I’m just venting, a much needed exercise”), and withdraw (“leave me alone with my email, Western mystery novels, and American modern rock, and I’ll be just fine”), instead of trusting God and loving people as his created ones.

I’m sure that one day I will sincerely weep at the loss of deepening relationships through rapport and understanding. Fortunately, by God’s grace I have not experienced broken relationships, the dreaded end-point of the red path. However, with frequent feelings of alienation and isolation, that end-point, at least with some people, is not too improbable.

My first major cross-cultural transition was nothing like this one. Deciding to move with my wife into the inner-city of Washington, DC, seemed hard at the time, but looking back it seems so simple. One reason was that we were staying in a city I had lived in for eight years. DC was my city. I knew it like the back of my hand. In a city whose streets frustrated and confused so many newcomers, its grid was imprinted on my mind. I knew which routes to take if traffic was backed up on a certain street at a certain time. We had our favorite restaurants, concert venues, and coffee shops. We knew the websites to buy advanced tickets at our favorite movie theaters. Public transportation was a breeze. We had lots of friends and a wonderful church. And we had romantic places that held so many memories for us.

Another reason that cross-cultural transition seems so easy now is that although we were different ethnically and culturally from our neighbors in an area of DC that is 99% African-American, we were all still Americans. At the very least I could talk to the men about the beloved Washington Redskins, discussing a much different kind of “football” from what one finds in Kenya. Soul food? Heap on more, sister! Frustration with litter and inefficient bureaucracy? At least here as citizens we had the power to do something about it.

Part of what has been so difficult in Kenya is our emotionally-charged adoption process. Feeling God’s call to adopt orphans wherever we landed in Africa, we eventually fell in love with Kayla Asali and Ketran Mjumbe, twin sister and brother who were abandoned in the hospital the day after they were born. Perhaps if it was just the two of us, I would not become so frustrated by the inefficiency and incompetence that I feel I so easily find here. But when it comes to our children (yes, they are that despite the lack of a piece of paper) and an expensive process, I really struggle to green-line.

Even now as I sit down to write this I struggle to find the words to express what I’ve been experiencing and feeling here. At times I have wondered aloud to God, “What are you doing?” I have anguished over questions like: what is just cultural difference and what is truly wrong or silly? What is redeemable in this culture and what is sinful? What is redeemable in my culture and what is sinful? Can I forget about culture and just live, for crying out loud?

I believe that someday I will look back and see the benefit of experiences I have had here, however frustrating and negative they seem to me now. I certainly have a much deeper admiration now for American missionaries sent to foreign soil. How easy it was for me to discuss Mark’s gospel and what it means to “pick up your cross” with American students at beautiful Lake Champion camp. But because of God’s grace he does not condemn me for that. He gently reminds me that he did not call me to an easy life. Rather, in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s words, Jesus bids me, “come and die.”

But can I still do that if I live a life surrounded by the conveniences and trappings of modern American life? Because the gospel is so badly needed there, he will no doubt show me ways I can lay down my life for his sake and for the gospel in a country as rich as mine. But for now, he is doing something in me here, a country still feeling the effects of colonialism and decades of corrupt leaders. He is refining me in ways I can only see glimpses of now. When it comes to the cross-cultural inevitables, before the choice to respond with the green-line or the red-line, I face a greater choice to deepen my relationship with Jesus. How easy it is here to become alienated and isolated from the One who understands me the most, the One for whom I certainly do not have to explain myself. In my frustration and anger I so easily resort to sinful attitudes and patterns and do not easily start the walk home from the pig pen. Why do I blame the one who is not just waiting with open arms, but is running towards me?

I desperately want to be content in any situation. I long to see joy in suffering; part of the call of a disciple. I may not suffer like the poor man in Dhaka, Bangladesh, but then, on the other hand, all suffering is relative. I wish I could see that my guilt over not suffering like him is not from my Father, but from the Accuser. At the very least, one thing God is doing is giving me a deeper sense of what it means to adjust cross-culturally for the sake of the Kingdom. I know I will never teach the Entry Posture Diagram the same again.

(Note: *The Entry Posture Diagram is a tool used in training Link Staff to cross-cultural ministry, mapping out the different directions our attitudes and perspectives take based on how we adapt to cross-cultural differences and challenges.)