Friends,
I think this meditation deserves a repeat-performance. It's a lovely story about Lilly and how her mom taught her a bit about malaria, and compassion. I was with Lilly and her folks recently and brought her an actual malaria net, like we use in Africa. She's a busy 7-year-old now and couldn't remember the entire incident, so I promised to find what I'd written and send it to her. Re-reading it blessed me and I thought you might enjoy it too...
----
A Little Child Shall Lead Them
This year, we all agreed to forgo the typical presents for our adult extended family members and instead choose gifts from the World Vision Gift Catalog. We'd given some similar "gifts" previously, but this year there was a special abandon to it, a desire to really make these "thoughtful" gifts for each receiver, a criteria very close to Janet's heart.
It's about time we did this--several donor friends had "made the switch" already and told me wonderful stories of how even their grandchildren "get into it" and draw pictures of the goats and ducks and school uniforms that are being given in Grandma and Grandpa's name. For young and old, these "gifts" can really bring to life our help for those in need, and at the same time they move our gift exchange focus off of ourselves. I read a quote by a woman this week who said that she gives her grandchildren only gifts from the Gift Catalog, as a way to change the theme of Christmas "from getting to giving." When I read this, I was convicted that we'd missed it a little, that we'd somewhat excluded our grandchildren from this new gift theme and thereby cheated them out of this shift in focus so as not to let them down in the "getting" department.
Everyone needs to negotiate these waters in their own way, and this actually isn't a commercial for World Vision's Gift Catalog, nor anyone else's.
It's a contrast between two events that happened for me last Monday, at the end of a lovely visit to Chico, CA where I stayed with my brother and his sweet young daughters as we celebrated our Mom's 75th birthday. We also celebrated Christmas early, and afterwards five-year-old Maya and I were in the kitchen, where I showed her the picture in the Gift Catalog of the ducks and chickens we bought her parents. Her dad asked her jokingly if they should keep the poultry in her bedroom, and I was trying without much success to explain to her who actually receives these animals. She was a good sport, but I'm not sure she really understood me. I think she'd rather have enjoyed keeping ducks in her bedroom.
We said goodbye a few hours later and were on the plane home that evening when I read the following email from a young couple who give to World Vision and whom I'd visited the prior week, along with their four-year-old, Lilly. The mom wrote: "On Friday, Lilly wanted to make believe we were in the desert. She then started to say, 'Look out for the mosquitoes; they'll bite you.' I told her sometimes mosquito bites make people sick. I asked her how we could help the pretend people not get bit. She thought about it and said, 'a cover?' I explained that, yes, they can use nets to cover themselves. I then told her that we could help real people, by buying them nets for Christmas. She asked where we could buy the nets, and I replied that we could buy them through World Vision. She sat for a second, then gasped and whispered 'Mr. Cory!' It was priceless... She is paying attention;-) I truly believe this will be a family affair in no time at all. So this year for the family we are buying mosquito nets, per Lilly's request."
The hero in this story without question is Lilly's mom. It's her worldview, her "world vision", which seamlessly transforms playtimes like this into teachable moments. In the process, Lilly is transformed in her own understanding. And somewhere along the line, a child's world becomes bigger, more inclusive, more expansive. "Neighbor" begins to mean to her something of what it means to God.
And in the transformation, another Christmas prophecy becomes real: A little child shall lead them.
Isaiah chapter 11 prophecies of the "shoot of Jesse", one coming from David's lineage. And the Spirit of the Lord will rest upon him. With justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. (There it is again--God's special concern for the least and the last.)
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.
The Peaceable Kingdom; led by a child. A very special Child. A child raised up in the way he should go. A child who grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.
Christmas is about a Child. Children can be immensely self-centered. And children can put us to shame in their unabashed generosity. Which tendency will we feed?
This Christmas, may our children and our grandchildren grow in wisdom and stature, and may their world get a little bigger, like Lilly's did. I think the Child of Christmas would be pleased. And maybe they'll even lead us somewhere where treasure lies.
Christmas blessings,
Cory
2011 Update: Janet and I are trying a new idea for our family this year... we picked out a gift from the WV catalog for each person, and then bought or made a little 'matching' remembrance for the person which would represent and remind them of the gift that was being in their honor. It's been fun to do the "pairing" and we recruited our oldest grandchild to help us pick out the matching items...and we've all really enjoyed it.
About Me
- Cory Trenda
- I've spent over 30 years with one foot firmly planted among the world’s poorest and the other firmly planted among the world’s richest. I chronicle some of my struggles to live as a Jesus-follower, integrating my global experiences into my understanding of Jesus’ example and teaching. This site is an ongoing extension of the book "Reflections From Afar", "an invitation to glimpse the world through the eyes of the poor and oppressed, and to incorporate those perspectives into our daily lives…"
Friday, December 16, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The Rest of the Story
Last night Janet and I watched a recording of a recent World Vision weekly chapel service. It started with a faded documentary-style video, circa 1979, chronicling a dramatic moment when World Vision’s ship Seasweep rescued a floundering vessel crammed with Vietnamese boat people. One four-year-old boy who was on that boat that day …then stood up and spoke to the chapel crowd! Now in his mid-30’s, Vinh is a graduate of Harvard Medical School and a skin cancer surgeon in Colorado. He said, “Without a doubt, if it had it not been for World Vision, the story of my life would have ended anonymously at the age of 4 in the South China Sea.”
Vinh’s parents had 11 children (he has only three of his own, thank you very much), and of the 11, five have Masters’ degrees and five have doctorates. The youngest recently graduated from Stanford and is on his way to medical school at Penn. Dad worked every hour he could as a laborer for a company that manufactures air conditioners, though the plant was not air conditioned and he stood all day on the assembly line through Arkansas summers. As Vinh told the audience, thanks to his father’s commitment, today he and his siblings all sit in offices, make their living based on their minds, and work in air conditioned facilities.
All in one generation. It’s a great illustration of the incredible opportunity possible in America—with sufficient parental sacrifice, a strong work ethic cascading down to the children, (yes, let’s acknowledge serious IQs and study habits!) …and the kindness of others, especially the amazing church which sponsored them from the refugee camp, helped them into an apartment, likely found the father a job, and told them all about Jesus.
World Vision played but one tiny, yet also decisive, role…saving the lives of 93 people that fateful day caught on film, including this entire family. What an amazing privilege for our staff to hear “the rest of the story” from Vinh and to have played a small yet critical role in it.
Somewhere in here is a lesson on gratitude. Vinh was thanking “people I will never meet”: not only the World Vision staff, but also the donors who supported this risky, reckless and costly venture. WV put a ship on the South China Sea to resupply Vietnamese refugee boats at a time when no governments wanted to get involved. Then the crew superseded the rules of the ship’s registration by following the law of their conscience, dramatically hoisting these 93 people aboard the Seasweep when their refugee boat was irreparable and had been floundering helplessly for six days, now out of food. Vinh’s mother was so beside herself at being unable to meet her children’s needs that “she would have given her blood” to nourish them; she has since admitted that she considered drowning the youngest ones to save them an agonizingly slow death. Such was the desperation of their situation when Seasweep found them.
How do we—you and I—get the privilege of being part of stories like this, and of literally millions more we’ll never hear this side of eternity? Rich Stearns went up to the podium to close chapel after Vinh sat down, and he became emotional. He wondered if maybe this is what the entertainment will be in heaven, hearing such testimonies.
In the meantime, it’s a huge blessing to savor the representative gratitude of one young father, husband, doctor, and son. He was on his way to becoming a statistic, simply a rounding error to add to the estimated three hundred thousand souls who had by then already been lost at sea as Vietnamese boat people.
Often, this is what life is like. We do our one part, we respond to an inner prompting of the heart and provide a helping hand—a touch, a word, a gift, and we have no idea how the story of that life ends. We never learn the rest of the story. Granted, the story isn’t usually as dramatic as Vinh’s—certainly my own story is not, though someone I’ll never meet provided the scholarship which allowed me to finish college summa cum laude and land a great corporate job that fed my young family and gave me skills and clarity of purpose which I employ every day.
This Thanksgiving, it’s worth taking time to go beyond the more obvious and visible objects of my gratitude—family, friends, my life today—and remember those unknown people who helped me along my way, maybe even without knowing me, to have the life I enjoy now.
And perhaps I’ll even take a moment to thank God for those people like Vinh, those I’ve personally or vicariously been able to somehow touch, bless, and strengthen on their journey, often without even knowing them. The apostle Paul encourages us, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we shall reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Gal 6:9)
Giving thanks isn’t just a way to honor God by recalling our own life’s blessings, but also an opportunity to encourage ourselves by recalling the privilege God has given us of helping others in our own outpourings of time, talent and treasure. And what a great way to not grow weary in doing good!
Who knows—maybe a long ago passerby or someone you or I haven’t even met, like Vinh, will be thanking God this week for a decisive impact in their life in which we had a hand.
Understanding that, Vinh’s story is a Thanksgiving gift to us all.
Cory
Thanksgiving, 2011
Vinh’s parents had 11 children (he has only three of his own, thank you very much), and of the 11, five have Masters’ degrees and five have doctorates. The youngest recently graduated from Stanford and is on his way to medical school at Penn. Dad worked every hour he could as a laborer for a company that manufactures air conditioners, though the plant was not air conditioned and he stood all day on the assembly line through Arkansas summers. As Vinh told the audience, thanks to his father’s commitment, today he and his siblings all sit in offices, make their living based on their minds, and work in air conditioned facilities.
All in one generation. It’s a great illustration of the incredible opportunity possible in America—with sufficient parental sacrifice, a strong work ethic cascading down to the children, (yes, let’s acknowledge serious IQs and study habits!) …and the kindness of others, especially the amazing church which sponsored them from the refugee camp, helped them into an apartment, likely found the father a job, and told them all about Jesus.
World Vision played but one tiny, yet also decisive, role…saving the lives of 93 people that fateful day caught on film, including this entire family. What an amazing privilege for our staff to hear “the rest of the story” from Vinh and to have played a small yet critical role in it.
Somewhere in here is a lesson on gratitude. Vinh was thanking “people I will never meet”: not only the World Vision staff, but also the donors who supported this risky, reckless and costly venture. WV put a ship on the South China Sea to resupply Vietnamese refugee boats at a time when no governments wanted to get involved. Then the crew superseded the rules of the ship’s registration by following the law of their conscience, dramatically hoisting these 93 people aboard the Seasweep when their refugee boat was irreparable and had been floundering helplessly for six days, now out of food. Vinh’s mother was so beside herself at being unable to meet her children’s needs that “she would have given her blood” to nourish them; she has since admitted that she considered drowning the youngest ones to save them an agonizingly slow death. Such was the desperation of their situation when Seasweep found them.
How do we—you and I—get the privilege of being part of stories like this, and of literally millions more we’ll never hear this side of eternity? Rich Stearns went up to the podium to close chapel after Vinh sat down, and he became emotional. He wondered if maybe this is what the entertainment will be in heaven, hearing such testimonies.
In the meantime, it’s a huge blessing to savor the representative gratitude of one young father, husband, doctor, and son. He was on his way to becoming a statistic, simply a rounding error to add to the estimated three hundred thousand souls who had by then already been lost at sea as Vietnamese boat people.
Often, this is what life is like. We do our one part, we respond to an inner prompting of the heart and provide a helping hand—a touch, a word, a gift, and we have no idea how the story of that life ends. We never learn the rest of the story. Granted, the story isn’t usually as dramatic as Vinh’s—certainly my own story is not, though someone I’ll never meet provided the scholarship which allowed me to finish college summa cum laude and land a great corporate job that fed my young family and gave me skills and clarity of purpose which I employ every day.
This Thanksgiving, it’s worth taking time to go beyond the more obvious and visible objects of my gratitude—family, friends, my life today—and remember those unknown people who helped me along my way, maybe even without knowing me, to have the life I enjoy now.
And perhaps I’ll even take a moment to thank God for those people like Vinh, those I’ve personally or vicariously been able to somehow touch, bless, and strengthen on their journey, often without even knowing them. The apostle Paul encourages us, “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we shall reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Gal 6:9)
Giving thanks isn’t just a way to honor God by recalling our own life’s blessings, but also an opportunity to encourage ourselves by recalling the privilege God has given us of helping others in our own outpourings of time, talent and treasure. And what a great way to not grow weary in doing good!
Who knows—maybe a long ago passerby or someone you or I haven’t even met, like Vinh, will be thanking God this week for a decisive impact in their life in which we had a hand.
Understanding that, Vinh’s story is a Thanksgiving gift to us all.
Cory
Thanksgiving, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Deeper Than Beauty
Deeper Than Beauty
I recently presented one of our supporters with a piece of original artwork, World Vision style. It was a lovely depiction of what appeared to be a peaceful village scene from rural Bangladesh, drawn by a Bangladeshi child…
Jim and I admired it together, wondering about the couple sitting on the ground in marriage attire in front of a tiny home, a child near another small hut, and what was clearly a church right smack in the center, replete with a cross on the peak of the roof beams. We both really liked the piece.
Then he asked, "I wonder what the wording on the signs say?" I told him I'd try to find out and get back to him, then took a photo of the piece with my trusty mobile phone to send on to my Bangladesh colleague. The reply I received sent my mind spinning for several days, until I remembered a moving experience.
A few years ago Janet and I had the privilege of decompressing for a few precious days at a friend's beach house, perched on a cliff right over the ocean. It was our final morning there, wispy clouds laying a blanket of quiet over the calm grey water, and hundreds of gulls and other seabirds were circling the sky half a mile out to sea. There was a telescope by the picture window, so I used it to see the birds more closely. After awhile, I discovered the magic of following just one bird in flight. The telescope pivoted back and forth, lilting up and down as it went, tracking a singular bird along its circular journey. There was tremendous visual beauty in this, an airborne ballet of white feathers against the distant outline of Catalina Island... everything simply backdrop as I momentarily entered the reality for the one chosen flier.
In the sanctuary of that living room, watching the sky ballet outside, I noticed my eyes moistening from the stunning beauty on the other side of the picture window.
I was indoors because of the cool, cloudy weather, spying the birds from the warmth and peace of the comfortable home, a CD of soft piano music playing in the background. Then Janet opened the door and a cacophony of their distant squawking blew in on the bracing breeze, waking me to the realization that, in all likelihood, barring this gull being a direct descendant of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, my bird was probably flying not to create beauty in the eye of my beholding, but simply continuing its never-ending search for its daily bread, for sustenance to stay alive. These gulls hold no savings accounts, have no bigger barns to build for storing their bounties. Their stomachs ask every day, "What have you done for me lately?" The scene became a complicated mix of the mundane, the beautiful, and possibly the desperate all at the same time. Clearly, there was a deeper reality than simply the beauty I was enjoying, although beauty was definitely in it, as real in my mind’s eye today as on the day I witnessed it.
I remembered this experience when I re-read the translation sent by my Bangladeshi colleague of the child's artwork...
Dear Brother,
Greetings from Bangladesh. I am so much excited to know that the gift you chose to give was an art work of a child of Bangladesh. I am very happy and honored to illustrate the artwork. Please, find it as follows:
1. We see a man is exploiting a woman in the drawing (from left)...This is one of the social issues by which the life of the children is affected much. The wording says, " Stop repression on women..or stop exploitation of women...The first word is pronounced as "Nari" which means 'women'...the second one is as 'Nirjaton' that means 'repression' and the last wording as 'Bhondaya kor' which means 'to stop'...or stop it.
2. Now let's point to the corner where a boy and a girl are in bride and bridegroom dress. This is another social issue in Bangladesh that affects the lives of children....Early marriage/child marriage is very common in rural areas, especially in poor families who consider their daughters merely burdens...Where there is ministry involvement through our ADPs or special projects, we have programs to empower the children in most vulnerable situations to combat the issues...They are working to stop early marriage through Child Forums. The little child with a play card represents the child forum's participation in community development activities. The wording means...'Stop Child Marriage' The words reads as 'Ballu' that means 'child'...Bibaha..which means 'marriage'...and the last word is again 'Bhondaya kor' which means 'to stop'...or just stop it.
Yes, there is a church in the middle of the village...We have church in a Christian village...I think the child wants to say about his/her dream for the future....he/she wants to tell us about a society where there will be no 'repression on women'...where there will be no 'early marriage'...Finally, maybe it finds its expression in Kingdom of God values where there will be fullness of life...love and dignity.
To be honest, I struggled whether to share this translation with Jim. He and I had shared such a nice, idealized interpretation of the artwork, very pastoral, very peaceful, very pleasant… very nice to glance at and remember fondly one’s involvement with World Vision!
But in the midst of what appeared to be only a pleasant scene there was also drama, especially when one remembers this drawing was made by a child… a child who has had to learn about these social issues, a child growing up surrounded by very real dangers from those issues. I imagine this as something similar to a child living in the inner-city, creating art that depicts neighborhood violence: Only the uninitiated would see it only as beautiful, no matter how stunning the skill of the artist.
After a few days, I realized that’s exactly why I must share the translation of the scene with this supporter—because clearly we are uninitiated, because we are not aware. Because we need to walk a mile in this child’s shoes, and now Jim has both a lovely and a disturbing reminder on his wall of that child’s reality… as well as perhaps a glimpse of the artist’s childlike hopes for the Peaceable Kingdom.
Just like those gulls circling the grey waters, here drama and beauty are intermingled. The presence of one does not cancel out the other. There is beauty in every culture, and there is drama in every one. The presence of beauty does not negate our responsibility to understand the trauma. And the reality of trauma does not negate the invitation to appreciate the beauty.
Cory
I recently presented one of our supporters with a piece of original artwork, World Vision style. It was a lovely depiction of what appeared to be a peaceful village scene from rural Bangladesh, drawn by a Bangladeshi child…
Jim and I admired it together, wondering about the couple sitting on the ground in marriage attire in front of a tiny home, a child near another small hut, and what was clearly a church right smack in the center, replete with a cross on the peak of the roof beams. We both really liked the piece.
Then he asked, "I wonder what the wording on the signs say?" I told him I'd try to find out and get back to him, then took a photo of the piece with my trusty mobile phone to send on to my Bangladesh colleague. The reply I received sent my mind spinning for several days, until I remembered a moving experience.
A few years ago Janet and I had the privilege of decompressing for a few precious days at a friend's beach house, perched on a cliff right over the ocean. It was our final morning there, wispy clouds laying a blanket of quiet over the calm grey water, and hundreds of gulls and other seabirds were circling the sky half a mile out to sea. There was a telescope by the picture window, so I used it to see the birds more closely. After awhile, I discovered the magic of following just one bird in flight. The telescope pivoted back and forth, lilting up and down as it went, tracking a singular bird along its circular journey. There was tremendous visual beauty in this, an airborne ballet of white feathers against the distant outline of Catalina Island... everything simply backdrop as I momentarily entered the reality for the one chosen flier.
In the sanctuary of that living room, watching the sky ballet outside, I noticed my eyes moistening from the stunning beauty on the other side of the picture window.
I was indoors because of the cool, cloudy weather, spying the birds from the warmth and peace of the comfortable home, a CD of soft piano music playing in the background. Then Janet opened the door and a cacophony of their distant squawking blew in on the bracing breeze, waking me to the realization that, in all likelihood, barring this gull being a direct descendant of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, my bird was probably flying not to create beauty in the eye of my beholding, but simply continuing its never-ending search for its daily bread, for sustenance to stay alive. These gulls hold no savings accounts, have no bigger barns to build for storing their bounties. Their stomachs ask every day, "What have you done for me lately?" The scene became a complicated mix of the mundane, the beautiful, and possibly the desperate all at the same time. Clearly, there was a deeper reality than simply the beauty I was enjoying, although beauty was definitely in it, as real in my mind’s eye today as on the day I witnessed it.
I remembered this experience when I re-read the translation sent by my Bangladeshi colleague of the child's artwork...
Dear Brother,
Greetings from Bangladesh. I am so much excited to know that the gift you chose to give was an art work of a child of Bangladesh. I am very happy and honored to illustrate the artwork. Please, find it as follows:
1. We see a man is exploiting a woman in the drawing (from left)...This is one of the social issues by which the life of the children is affected much. The wording says, " Stop repression on women..or stop exploitation of women...The first word is pronounced as "Nari" which means 'women'...the second one is as 'Nirjaton' that means 'repression' and the last wording as 'Bhondaya kor' which means 'to stop'...or stop it.
2. Now let's point to the corner where a boy and a girl are in bride and bridegroom dress. This is another social issue in Bangladesh that affects the lives of children....Early marriage/child marriage is very common in rural areas, especially in poor families who consider their daughters merely burdens...Where there is ministry involvement through our ADPs or special projects, we have programs to empower the children in most vulnerable situations to combat the issues...They are working to stop early marriage through Child Forums. The little child with a play card represents the child forum's participation in community development activities. The wording means...'Stop Child Marriage' The words reads as 'Ballu' that means 'child'...Bibaha..which means 'marriage'...and the last word is again 'Bhondaya kor' which means 'to stop'...or just stop it.
Yes, there is a church in the middle of the village...We have church in a Christian village...I think the child wants to say about his/her dream for the future....he/she wants to tell us about a society where there will be no 'repression on women'...where there will be no 'early marriage'...Finally, maybe it finds its expression in Kingdom of God values where there will be fullness of life...love and dignity.
To be honest, I struggled whether to share this translation with Jim. He and I had shared such a nice, idealized interpretation of the artwork, very pastoral, very peaceful, very pleasant… very nice to glance at and remember fondly one’s involvement with World Vision!
But in the midst of what appeared to be only a pleasant scene there was also drama, especially when one remembers this drawing was made by a child… a child who has had to learn about these social issues, a child growing up surrounded by very real dangers from those issues. I imagine this as something similar to a child living in the inner-city, creating art that depicts neighborhood violence: Only the uninitiated would see it only as beautiful, no matter how stunning the skill of the artist.
After a few days, I realized that’s exactly why I must share the translation of the scene with this supporter—because clearly we are uninitiated, because we are not aware. Because we need to walk a mile in this child’s shoes, and now Jim has both a lovely and a disturbing reminder on his wall of that child’s reality… as well as perhaps a glimpse of the artist’s childlike hopes for the Peaceable Kingdom.
Just like those gulls circling the grey waters, here drama and beauty are intermingled. The presence of one does not cancel out the other. There is beauty in every culture, and there is drama in every one. The presence of beauty does not negate our responsibility to understand the trauma. And the reality of trauma does not negate the invitation to appreciate the beauty.
Cory
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Looking Up From Down Below
Janet and I adore being grandparents. Six months ago we were blessed with our fifth grandchild, and the first in 12 years. What a delight it is to celebrate each new adventure, each new wonder, each new victory for Laith. (His name rhymes with "faith" and is Arabic for "lion"—so of course Grandma feels compelled to buy every piece of baby clothing she finds sporting an embroidered lion.) Seeing him discover how to use his hands as tools the past few months, grimacing when he nearly turned over but then rolled back...then finally made it. Everyone in the family loves these little triumphs and new frontiers.
Why is that? Somehow we put ourselves in a baby's shoes. We accept infants "as they are", and if we have eyes to see it we can appreciate each infinitesimal new step, celebrating its newness, not depreciating its smallness.
I just had that same experience, sitting on an airplane heading up the California coast while reading a report from West Africa. What a joy it was to "appreciate the newness" of their progress. Yet I also sighed, wondering how many others would miss it, "depreciating its smallness?"
The report was about a fascinating innovation with the anything-but-fascinating name "Farmer-Managed Natural Regeneration". An Australian missionary who now works for World Vision discovered it 25+ years ago. The idea simply is that areas experiencing terrible deforestation can be reforested without planting new trees! It turns out that the stumps of harvested trees still have roots which send out new shoots, from the trunk and through the ground, maybe 20-30 shoots. If properly cared for, these shoots can become large trees far quicker than new seedlings because of their pre-existing root system.
Today half the farmed land in Niger, West Africa is using FMNR, and countries all throughout that region are adopting the practice. Even better: it requires almost no money or outside help beyond a little technical coaching, and farmers adopt it on their own from seeing its impact for their neighbors.
The report I read was full of quotes from local villagers, chiefs and FMNR volunteer trainers, and I realized that if you and I went to visit there, these are the kinds of things we'd hear...or we might miss, due to their profound "smallness":
* “They used to tell us to plant trees [seedlings]. They would bring them out; we would plant them and the trees would die. These (shoots) are coming up themselves! It’s cooler already and the winds are not as strong and the soil remains moist for longer. We are already beginning to see changes such as improved crop growth.”
* “Grasses have also returned and so now there is fodder for our livestock. The animals used to have to walk so far and risk being stolen. Now there is plenty of grass nearby and they do not wander. Also, it used to be that if we took our animals to the market, they were so skinny that buyers didn’t even want to look at them. Now, they bring good prices.”
* “A wide range of non-timber forest products can now be found after almost becoming locally extinct. Talensi region has a rich diversity of edible and medicinal plants. Children are eating wild fruits and selling some, and they buy text books with the proceeds. The children used to walk long distances in order to collect this fruit and this was a big concern to parents. Now the fruit can be found close to home.”
* One day a fire broke out and the chief saw it from his bath. His only thought was to save the trees, so he ran to the fire wrapped in his towel to put it out. Seeing their chief doing this the whole community was compelled to run to his aid. After just 1-2 years we are already seeing differences. Bare spaces are hard to find. Attitudes have changed, especially towards fire. Today the community members are very keen to prevent and stop fire. We envisage that within just a few years we’ll have a forest and all its benefits.”
* “The arrival of FMNR in my village has enabled me to fulfil the meaning of my ceremonial name, which is ‘Tintuug Lebge Tii’, meaning ‘the small shrub becomes a tree’.”
When at our best, we celebrate others’ small victories. We recognize that in our offspring these small victories will lead one day to major changes. Lord willing, Laith will eventually learn to walk, to talk, to learn, to invent, to provide, to love God and his fellow neighbor.
In the same way, even though we can almost hear our naysayer instinct cry out, "These people are still absurdly poor by my standards" while reading each quote above, these seemingly small victories can lead to major changes. For instance, in Niger, over five million people have doubled their family income, just by growing these tree shoots! Last year, World Vision won an Innovation Award for FMNR from Interaction, a US-based consortium of international NGOs that seeks to affirm and disseminate best practices.
I met a couple last month who helped finance the powerful documentary "Born into Brothels." The storyline is simple: cameras were given to children whose mothers work in brothels in India. Through the camera lens, we get to see the world from their viewpoint, looking up from down below. If we as viewers can see life as those children see it, the directors understood, we can more truly understand their challenges, the deficits they face, and their enormous victories in what we might otherwise call the smallest things.
Laith is almost always looking up from down below. Yet I love to get inside his head, to empathize, and to celebrate what for him is massive progress. Without question, anything and everything we ever "accomplish for God" must look the same to him as our grandchildren's progress looks from our adult perspective. Yet, I don't believe God scoffs at our human attempts, though to him they are infinitesimally small baby steps. No, God instead rejoices: he knows what we can become.
He looks up from down below with us. Through our camera lens. And he calls us to do likewise.
And, as the very first psalm reminds us, it's alot more fun to rejoice with those who rejoice than to sit in the seat of scoffers.
Why is that? Somehow we put ourselves in a baby's shoes. We accept infants "as they are", and if we have eyes to see it we can appreciate each infinitesimal new step, celebrating its newness, not depreciating its smallness.
I just had that same experience, sitting on an airplane heading up the California coast while reading a report from West Africa. What a joy it was to "appreciate the newness" of their progress. Yet I also sighed, wondering how many others would miss it, "depreciating its smallness?"
The report was about a fascinating innovation with the anything-but-fascinating name "Farmer-Managed Natural Regeneration". An Australian missionary who now works for World Vision discovered it 25+ years ago. The idea simply is that areas experiencing terrible deforestation can be reforested without planting new trees! It turns out that the stumps of harvested trees still have roots which send out new shoots, from the trunk and through the ground, maybe 20-30 shoots. If properly cared for, these shoots can become large trees far quicker than new seedlings because of their pre-existing root system.
Today half the farmed land in Niger, West Africa is using FMNR, and countries all throughout that region are adopting the practice. Even better: it requires almost no money or outside help beyond a little technical coaching, and farmers adopt it on their own from seeing its impact for their neighbors.
The report I read was full of quotes from local villagers, chiefs and FMNR volunteer trainers, and I realized that if you and I went to visit there, these are the kinds of things we'd hear...or we might miss, due to their profound "smallness":
* “They used to tell us to plant trees [seedlings]. They would bring them out; we would plant them and the trees would die. These (shoots) are coming up themselves! It’s cooler already and the winds are not as strong and the soil remains moist for longer. We are already beginning to see changes such as improved crop growth.”
* “Grasses have also returned and so now there is fodder for our livestock. The animals used to have to walk so far and risk being stolen. Now there is plenty of grass nearby and they do not wander. Also, it used to be that if we took our animals to the market, they were so skinny that buyers didn’t even want to look at them. Now, they bring good prices.”
* “A wide range of non-timber forest products can now be found after almost becoming locally extinct. Talensi region has a rich diversity of edible and medicinal plants. Children are eating wild fruits and selling some, and they buy text books with the proceeds. The children used to walk long distances in order to collect this fruit and this was a big concern to parents. Now the fruit can be found close to home.”
* One day a fire broke out and the chief saw it from his bath. His only thought was to save the trees, so he ran to the fire wrapped in his towel to put it out. Seeing their chief doing this the whole community was compelled to run to his aid. After just 1-2 years we are already seeing differences. Bare spaces are hard to find. Attitudes have changed, especially towards fire. Today the community members are very keen to prevent and stop fire. We envisage that within just a few years we’ll have a forest and all its benefits.”
* “The arrival of FMNR in my village has enabled me to fulfil the meaning of my ceremonial name, which is ‘Tintuug Lebge Tii’, meaning ‘the small shrub becomes a tree’.”
When at our best, we celebrate others’ small victories. We recognize that in our offspring these small victories will lead one day to major changes. Lord willing, Laith will eventually learn to walk, to talk, to learn, to invent, to provide, to love God and his fellow neighbor.
In the same way, even though we can almost hear our naysayer instinct cry out, "These people are still absurdly poor by my standards" while reading each quote above, these seemingly small victories can lead to major changes. For instance, in Niger, over five million people have doubled their family income, just by growing these tree shoots! Last year, World Vision won an Innovation Award for FMNR from Interaction, a US-based consortium of international NGOs that seeks to affirm and disseminate best practices.
I met a couple last month who helped finance the powerful documentary "Born into Brothels." The storyline is simple: cameras were given to children whose mothers work in brothels in India. Through the camera lens, we get to see the world from their viewpoint, looking up from down below. If we as viewers can see life as those children see it, the directors understood, we can more truly understand their challenges, the deficits they face, and their enormous victories in what we might otherwise call the smallest things.
Laith is almost always looking up from down below. Yet I love to get inside his head, to empathize, and to celebrate what for him is massive progress. Without question, anything and everything we ever "accomplish for God" must look the same to him as our grandchildren's progress looks from our adult perspective. Yet, I don't believe God scoffs at our human attempts, though to him they are infinitesimally small baby steps. No, God instead rejoices: he knows what we can become.
He looks up from down below with us. Through our camera lens. And he calls us to do likewise.
And, as the very first psalm reminds us, it's alot more fun to rejoice with those who rejoice than to sit in the seat of scoffers.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Making Friends
This weekend, the futon in our guest room celebrates its tenth birthday with us. I don’t usually remember when we bought furniture, but this was one of those high-charged experiences when a confusing parable suddenly becomes clear—and you suddenly know what you need to do to obey it.
It was the Saturday after the September 11 attacks in 2001. Our daughter had just gotten married on September 1, and her bed became the marriage bed in their matchbox rental unit. We knew we needed to find a replacement bed for our now-empty second bedroom and thought perhaps we’d try a futon. Then 9/11 happened, and like everyone else, we became glued to the TV day and night, asking why, asking who. Within a couple days, our collective national finger was pointed at Afghanistan. Soon reports were surfacing of harassment and even violence against Middle-Eastern looking people living here. And still the incessant 24-hour news reports went on and on. Everyone seemed to be frustrated.
That Saturday afternoon, Janet and I realized we needed to get out of the house and just do something “normal”. There was already a reported slump in consumer purchasing, and we needed to start shopping for a futon, so off we went to check out a few stores and begin the process of doing our homework.
At the very first store, we were helped by a nicely-dressed man in his 40’s, wearing a solid blue dress shirt with a tie. He showed us their merchandise, and we focused on one futon. Between his features and his accent, it was easy to tell he was a native of the Middle East. In light of the charged atmosphere in our nation toward people who looked like him, we simply wanted to interact normally. But as we continued to talk, I noticed that the top of his dress shirt began to get dark and realized that sweat was soaking right down his collar.
Finally I told him that our daughter and her new husband had served in Jordan and asked if he was originally from that region. He said yes. Oh, what part? “I’ve lived here for 20 years, paid my taxes, had a family here… but I’m from Kabul” he blurted out, perhaps hoping I didn’t know where that was.
Our interactions alternated between touching furniture and this touchy subtext. At some point, I eased us into a discussion of the past few days and asked if he had personally experienced any of the harassment mentioned in the press. He warily recited several incidences of name-calling and gestures made from passing car windows, and then said, “Finally, the pressure was so much that last night I told my family we should go out and eat at Burger King, just to get out of the house and do something normal.” I could relate. “But as we were sitting there, a man at the next table began to speak louder and louder to his own family about how all Middle-Easterners should leave America or be thrown out…or worse. The man wouldn’t look at us, but it was clear what he was doing. I wanted to blurt out to him, ‘I’m an American citizen! My children were born here!’ But by that point he was swearing and I didn’t think it would do any good. I tried to distract my kids from hearing him, but it was impossible. We finally got up and left. I felt so ashamed in front of my children; ashamed of America.”
By now, the dark stains of perspiration were covering more than half his collar and working down even farther. I empathized and apologized, reminding him that America wasn’t founded on such xenophobic principles. But it sounded a bit hollow from my safe Anglo perch.
While he was checking on some futon covers or such, Janet and I looked at each other and knew we both wanted to buy a futon from him, today. Forget the shopping around, forget the waiting a few weeks. Our actions just might speak acceptance to him, only in some little way, but in a way that our 'cheap' words never could.
And suddenly I understood that peculiar parable of the “unrighteous steward” (Luke 16:1-9), where Jesus tells of the crooked manager of a rich man’s businesses who is about to be fired, so he makes secret deals with each debtor to lower their debt to his master … abusing the owner’s resources so as to make friends who might give him a job after he loses this one.
The kicker is the ending, where the rich man--and Jesus--actually applaud the crooked steward (v8-9). "The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”
I believe that I’m to be a “steward” of all of the time, talent and treasure with which God entrusts me, not just the portion I donate. And that day we learned something new about "good stewardship"... as important as it is to spend judiciously, there is ultimately a much more important function for money: using it to make friends for Kingdom purposes. If the owner in Jesus' parable apparently doesn’t suffer from this seemingly major fraud committed against him, how much less will the Lord of the universe, the owner of everything, suffer if we use the resources he entrusts to us in order to gain friends?
For us, purchasing a piece of furniture like this was not a trivial exercise, especially coming on the heels of our daughter's wedding expenses. But that day, we were given a very clear opportunity to dispense with our normal caution and see how God was inviting us to be used in a small way in this man’s life, provided we were willing to abandon our plans and accept the invitation.
It turned out to be a great purchase. After all, we’ve had ten years of reminders from that faithful futon of how things work in God’s economy.
Cory
September 2011
It was the Saturday after the September 11 attacks in 2001. Our daughter had just gotten married on September 1, and her bed became the marriage bed in their matchbox rental unit. We knew we needed to find a replacement bed for our now-empty second bedroom and thought perhaps we’d try a futon. Then 9/11 happened, and like everyone else, we became glued to the TV day and night, asking why, asking who. Within a couple days, our collective national finger was pointed at Afghanistan. Soon reports were surfacing of harassment and even violence against Middle-Eastern looking people living here. And still the incessant 24-hour news reports went on and on. Everyone seemed to be frustrated.
That Saturday afternoon, Janet and I realized we needed to get out of the house and just do something “normal”. There was already a reported slump in consumer purchasing, and we needed to start shopping for a futon, so off we went to check out a few stores and begin the process of doing our homework.
At the very first store, we were helped by a nicely-dressed man in his 40’s, wearing a solid blue dress shirt with a tie. He showed us their merchandise, and we focused on one futon. Between his features and his accent, it was easy to tell he was a native of the Middle East. In light of the charged atmosphere in our nation toward people who looked like him, we simply wanted to interact normally. But as we continued to talk, I noticed that the top of his dress shirt began to get dark and realized that sweat was soaking right down his collar.
Finally I told him that our daughter and her new husband had served in Jordan and asked if he was originally from that region. He said yes. Oh, what part? “I’ve lived here for 20 years, paid my taxes, had a family here… but I’m from Kabul” he blurted out, perhaps hoping I didn’t know where that was.
Our interactions alternated between touching furniture and this touchy subtext. At some point, I eased us into a discussion of the past few days and asked if he had personally experienced any of the harassment mentioned in the press. He warily recited several incidences of name-calling and gestures made from passing car windows, and then said, “Finally, the pressure was so much that last night I told my family we should go out and eat at Burger King, just to get out of the house and do something normal.” I could relate. “But as we were sitting there, a man at the next table began to speak louder and louder to his own family about how all Middle-Easterners should leave America or be thrown out…or worse. The man wouldn’t look at us, but it was clear what he was doing. I wanted to blurt out to him, ‘I’m an American citizen! My children were born here!’ But by that point he was swearing and I didn’t think it would do any good. I tried to distract my kids from hearing him, but it was impossible. We finally got up and left. I felt so ashamed in front of my children; ashamed of America.”
By now, the dark stains of perspiration were covering more than half his collar and working down even farther. I empathized and apologized, reminding him that America wasn’t founded on such xenophobic principles. But it sounded a bit hollow from my safe Anglo perch.
While he was checking on some futon covers or such, Janet and I looked at each other and knew we both wanted to buy a futon from him, today. Forget the shopping around, forget the waiting a few weeks. Our actions just might speak acceptance to him, only in some little way, but in a way that our 'cheap' words never could.
And suddenly I understood that peculiar parable of the “unrighteous steward” (Luke 16:1-9), where Jesus tells of the crooked manager of a rich man’s businesses who is about to be fired, so he makes secret deals with each debtor to lower their debt to his master … abusing the owner’s resources so as to make friends who might give him a job after he loses this one.
The kicker is the ending, where the rich man--and Jesus--actually applaud the crooked steward (v8-9). "The master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”
I believe that I’m to be a “steward” of all of the time, talent and treasure with which God entrusts me, not just the portion I donate. And that day we learned something new about "good stewardship"... as important as it is to spend judiciously, there is ultimately a much more important function for money: using it to make friends for Kingdom purposes. If the owner in Jesus' parable apparently doesn’t suffer from this seemingly major fraud committed against him, how much less will the Lord of the universe, the owner of everything, suffer if we use the resources he entrusts to us in order to gain friends?
For us, purchasing a piece of furniture like this was not a trivial exercise, especially coming on the heels of our daughter's wedding expenses. But that day, we were given a very clear opportunity to dispense with our normal caution and see how God was inviting us to be used in a small way in this man’s life, provided we were willing to abandon our plans and accept the invitation.
It turned out to be a great purchase. After all, we’ve had ten years of reminders from that faithful futon of how things work in God’s economy.
Cory
September 2011
Clues in the Rubble -- Reflection on 9/11/11
I was privileged to be at Ground Zero in New York City on the first anniversary of 9/11. I looked down on that empty place where the Twin Towers had last stood so proudly one year earlier. And now as I looked at the bare hole, that ground truly was zero, nothing but a gaping cavity caused by a knockdown punch to the lower jaw of Manhattan.
But maybe in the rubble of that tragedy there were some clues of learning for us, evidence, as it were, that was inadvertently carted off.
It’s a vast oversimplification to compare death tolls as the measure of 9/11’s impact. For instance, some 2750 people died at the Twin Towers, while approximately ten times* that many innocent children die needlessly every day in developing nations due to poverty. We might be tempted to wonder why so much trauma (not to mention maybe trillions in increased military spending) was created by the deaths of 2750 when the deaths of 27,500 today and 27,500 tomorrow and 27,500 every new day barely evokes a yawn, not to mention recent calls to cut our national aid for those in poverty.
But clearly this ignores the deeper meaning behind 9/11... and the trauma we felt that day and will feel again as we see the reruns today, in our memories if not on our TV screens, of the planes hitting those towers.
First of all, its impact on us: our initial cluelessness as we watched hour after frustrating hour, trying desperately to piece together who did this, why they did it, and how did they get away with it... the visceral, personal helplessness we each felt wherever we were as we watched the unfolding drama of those buildings burning and then, suddenly and impossibly, collapsing in slow motion into a graveyard heap of twisted, burning metal and glass. Helplessness is a terrible feeling that we adults have spent a lifetime attempting to escape.
Second, a simplistic casualty comparison perhaps misses the power in the messages and meaning communicated by the event itself:
- the incendiary political act that it was
- the underlying religious passions that could evoke an act such as this
- the declaration of war between worldviews that the act represented
In America, we have spent a great deal of time and energy since 9/11 defending our worldview against that onslaught of underlying messages and meanings. So much so that maybe we've forgotten to ask: What was it about our nation that was so hate-provoking? And what part do I play personally in what was so hateful?
Maybe up ‘til now we've missed a real opportunity for soul-searching and learning. Had we done more of that, perhaps we might have addressed earlier some of the rampant speculation and plain old greed in our commodities markets and in the financial sector which first led to the global food crisis of a few years ago [we didn't feel that one so much, but it drove an additional 100 million people below the poverty line worldwide], and then led us to the global financial crisis -- where America was again Ground Zero.
Maybe. While it's normal to defend oneself when feeling judged by others, in that defensive response little is learned. An opportunity can be missed; perhaps it has been.
And perhaps we're at risk of missing some lessons and meanings behind the daily horror of 27,500 children dying, as well...
- What political priorities are evidenced in the level of our collective response, and non-response?
- What does our tolerance of those deaths show about our own religious commitments and understanding?
- And here too there's a clash of worldviews which is brought home every day in that staccato drumroll of deaths: The worldview which is evident in my actions, versus the one evident in Jesus' actions. He lived out what has always been God's worldview, because long before Jesus came on the scene, the God of Israel was making it very clear with his words that he sided with the poor, the orphan, the widow, the powerless. Then, in Jesus, his very words became Flesh.
Maybe we struggle with those same feelings of helplessness contemplating these daily deaths, too. And we find it simpler to throw up our hands than put them to the plow to furrow our one measly row against that onslaught.
Truly, 2750 deaths by terrible violence is a tragedy worthy of our solemn remembrance, today and on every 9/11. Although I'm not sure yet that future historians will be able to say that it seriously "changed" America in substantive ways, certainly it deeply impacted all of us Americans old enough to remember it, and there may yet be lessons we will glean from it.
And if the tragedy also reminds us that God mourns every new day with its fresh body count, and if that reminder causes us to ask for more of the heart of God -- and to be the hands of Jesus in response, then maybe there still are valuable treasures we can find in the rubble.
Cory
September 2011
* The latest estimate is that globally about 21,000 children die of preventable, poverty-related causes each day (the number is gradually shrinking!), but this only includes children up to age five.
But maybe in the rubble of that tragedy there were some clues of learning for us, evidence, as it were, that was inadvertently carted off.
It’s a vast oversimplification to compare death tolls as the measure of 9/11’s impact. For instance, some 2750 people died at the Twin Towers, while approximately ten times* that many innocent children die needlessly every day in developing nations due to poverty. We might be tempted to wonder why so much trauma (not to mention maybe trillions in increased military spending) was created by the deaths of 2750 when the deaths of 27,500 today and 27,500 tomorrow and 27,500 every new day barely evokes a yawn, not to mention recent calls to cut our national aid for those in poverty.
But clearly this ignores the deeper meaning behind 9/11... and the trauma we felt that day and will feel again as we see the reruns today, in our memories if not on our TV screens, of the planes hitting those towers.
First of all, its impact on us: our initial cluelessness as we watched hour after frustrating hour, trying desperately to piece together who did this, why they did it, and how did they get away with it... the visceral, personal helplessness we each felt wherever we were as we watched the unfolding drama of those buildings burning and then, suddenly and impossibly, collapsing in slow motion into a graveyard heap of twisted, burning metal and glass. Helplessness is a terrible feeling that we adults have spent a lifetime attempting to escape.
Second, a simplistic casualty comparison perhaps misses the power in the messages and meaning communicated by the event itself:
- the incendiary political act that it was
- the underlying religious passions that could evoke an act such as this
- the declaration of war between worldviews that the act represented
In America, we have spent a great deal of time and energy since 9/11 defending our worldview against that onslaught of underlying messages and meanings. So much so that maybe we've forgotten to ask: What was it about our nation that was so hate-provoking? And what part do I play personally in what was so hateful?
Maybe up ‘til now we've missed a real opportunity for soul-searching and learning. Had we done more of that, perhaps we might have addressed earlier some of the rampant speculation and plain old greed in our commodities markets and in the financial sector which first led to the global food crisis of a few years ago [we didn't feel that one so much, but it drove an additional 100 million people below the poverty line worldwide], and then led us to the global financial crisis -- where America was again Ground Zero.
Maybe. While it's normal to defend oneself when feeling judged by others, in that defensive response little is learned. An opportunity can be missed; perhaps it has been.
And perhaps we're at risk of missing some lessons and meanings behind the daily horror of 27,500 children dying, as well...
- What political priorities are evidenced in the level of our collective response, and non-response?
- What does our tolerance of those deaths show about our own religious commitments and understanding?
- And here too there's a clash of worldviews which is brought home every day in that staccato drumroll of deaths: The worldview which is evident in my actions, versus the one evident in Jesus' actions. He lived out what has always been God's worldview, because long before Jesus came on the scene, the God of Israel was making it very clear with his words that he sided with the poor, the orphan, the widow, the powerless. Then, in Jesus, his very words became Flesh.
Maybe we struggle with those same feelings of helplessness contemplating these daily deaths, too. And we find it simpler to throw up our hands than put them to the plow to furrow our one measly row against that onslaught.
Truly, 2750 deaths by terrible violence is a tragedy worthy of our solemn remembrance, today and on every 9/11. Although I'm not sure yet that future historians will be able to say that it seriously "changed" America in substantive ways, certainly it deeply impacted all of us Americans old enough to remember it, and there may yet be lessons we will glean from it.
And if the tragedy also reminds us that God mourns every new day with its fresh body count, and if that reminder causes us to ask for more of the heart of God -- and to be the hands of Jesus in response, then maybe there still are valuable treasures we can find in the rubble.
Cory
September 2011
* The latest estimate is that globally about 21,000 children die of preventable, poverty-related causes each day (the number is gradually shrinking!), but this only includes children up to age five.
Monday, August 29, 2011
First, an apology
Early in 2010, my focus shifted somewhat toward compiling meditations for a book (Reflections from Afar--info on ordering it is below).
Because of this, I quit or forgot to post the subsequent meditations on this blogsite for well over a year. Some of them are in "Reflections", but the best of the other ones were missing. So I've belatedly posted them below. Generally, I date these so you'll be able to tell when they were originally written (if it matters).
If you'd like to order my book, you can do so here. And, if you put in the discount code "Cory", you'll get 20% off. Consider it my penance for the oversight in blogging... http://www.worldvisionresources.com/reflections-from-afar-p-509.html
Because of this, I quit or forgot to post the subsequent meditations on this blogsite for well over a year. Some of them are in "Reflections", but the best of the other ones were missing. So I've belatedly posted them below. Generally, I date these so you'll be able to tell when they were originally written (if it matters).
If you'd like to order my book, you can do so here. And, if you put in the discount code "Cory", you'll get 20% off. Consider it my penance for the oversight in blogging... http://www.worldvisionresources.com/reflections-from-afar-p-509.html
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