60 New Years

This will be my 60th New Year celebration. I obviously don’t remember my first one, as I was only two months old. That first New Year Harry Truman had just become the 33rd U.S. President after the death of FDR; I was living in California. My earliest memories of New Year’s Day is watching the Rose Parade on our black and white television and then spending the whole day glued to the tube watching college football. Those were the days when there was only the Orange, Sugar, Cotton and Rose Bowl’s, spaced out to end that afternoon on the west coast as there were no night games in the mid-1950’s. For an eight-year-old boy, it was about the best day of the year.

When we moved to Arkansas our standard of living dropped dramatically and one New Year’s Day was spent helping my dad on a construction job. I thought it was criminal to be working instead of sitting in front of the one-eyed monster eating Fritos and bean dip.

I preached my first sermon on New Year’s Eve, 1967 at what they called a “watch night” service. A tradition in our little Baptist church where we would gather at 8 p.m. to sing, eat and pray the New Year in. It was also a good time to let lay preachers and seminarians speak. I was a first year student in a Bible college and so they let me give it a try (after all, they had four hours to kill). I preached the whole book of Revelation in under thirty minutes.

New Year’s Day in Kenya was a bit dull. The kids were home from boarding school and Sandy usually made biscuit’s and chocolate gravy. No place to go in the small town we lived in. I’d listen to football games January 2nd on Armed Forces Radio.

Ten years ago I was in London with my friend Woody Phillips. He was living in Hungary at the time and we met there to look at a piece of property that the organization wanted to buy for a training school. The property was worthless but the time was well spent as I made a dear friend on that trip. We walked through Piccadilly Circus, found a quaint restaurant and watched fireworks. Woody and I had a lot in common and I valued his friendship. Wonder what we would have talked about if we knew he would be dead six years later?

This New Year’s day I will be in Seoul speaking at the Bul Kwang Dong Bible Baptist Church in Seoul, which has been a supporter for over twenty years. It will be cold and I don’t have winter clothes. Though a bit anxious, I count it a privilege to be asked to be the main speaker for their conference. I won’t be going through the events of Armageddon in a half an hour, but I will be just as excited to talk about my Savior as I was thirty-eight years ago.

A New Year. New opportunities. I wonder where I’ll be six years from now? If I live to see my 70th New Year’s, I wonder what the world will be like? The years really don’t matter, but each day that God gives me. I’m blessed. Happy New Year.

Merry Christmas

T’is the night before Christmas and all through our Delhi flat,
It’s so dang cold here, not a creature is stirring, not even a rat.

I look out the window, as the fog settles in,
And wonder if Jesus will be remembered in this world of sadness and sin?

With all the other gods the people do pray,
Will anyone remember why even celebrate this day?

I think of my kids, as they gather around their tree,
And pray for God blessing on them as they worship our Savior without Sandy and me.

We celebrate His birth with fellow believers tonight,
But I am reminded that our colleagues around the world are facing our same plight.

Grateful to God for His marvelous Grace,
It will be a wonderful Christmas without seeing jolly St. Nick’s face.

A poet I’m not, you no doubt agree by this time,
But it’s the thought that counts, not the uneven rhyme.

I just wanted to send out a greeting to all those we love,
And remember again our wonderful Lord and King above.

Merry Christmas.

Why Jimmy Quits

Years ago growing up in Los Angeles we use to play sandlot football. I stood in line, along with other kids, hoping to be picked to be on a good team. I liked being on the same team with Johnny Odom, a fat Japanese fifth grade kid, as he was almost unmovable. He was slow and clumsy, but if we needed short down yardage we would always give the ball to fat Johnny who, with his shiny blue and gold LA Rams helmet (the envy of us all), would squash the opposing team with ease.

Denny Dietrich was also a good guy to have on our side as he was wiry and strong. I liked playing against Chucky Green as he was as light as a feather and I could toss him around with ease. Jimmy Farmer was a bit of a whiner and usually got hurt every game we played. Jimmy was always the last kid to be picked. No one really liked him, but when you have to have enough kids to play a game you take whoever shows up.

On my walk this morning I thought about Jimmy as it relates to overseas teams. I have noticed that usually in every team situation there is a guy or a family that the rest of the team doesn’t really like. Maybe they are whiny or they have an irritating personality. Or, perhaps, they just don’t have that indefinable chemistry which determines if they will be insiders or outsiders within the group. Whatever the reason, there seems to be a Jimmy Farmer in every group.

Like Jimmy, this odd guy (or couple) volunteers for an assignment and the organization usually picks them, with reservation. Jimmy goes to the field and the team leader doesn’t like him and never really gives him the attention he gives to others on the team. Attitude always shows up, and even Jimmy knows he was picked out of necessity, not because they want him around. Before long, either by Jimmy or the organization, a decision is made to release him from the team. Jimmy goes home and everyone points fingers on whose fault it was that he didn’t make it. Sadly, someone usually blames God saying it was His will or they missed understanding His will. It’s common in Christian circles that when things don’t go according to plan we can always cover our mistakes by attributing the failure to a higher power.

So who is at fault for Jimmy’s failure? Certainly Jimmy bears a lot of the responsibility. If he is not gifted to play ball (or be on the field) he shouldn’t try. He should look for another game. If he insists on playing the game then he needs to work on not being such an irritant and work on his interpersonal skills.

The team and team owner also shares in Jimmy’s failure. If you don’t like the guy, don’t pick him to play on the team. If the team is going to accept him, then treat him like a full fledge member, don’t make his life so miserable that you force him to quit. In fact, given his difficult personality, the team will need to go the extra mile to make sure he does succeed. Anyone can coach a talented team. The coach of the year is the one who can take a less than talented group to the playoffs. It’s disingenuous to take the credit when things are going well, but blame Jimmy when the wheels fall off.

I wonder where Jimmy is now? I know he never played in the NFL, but bet the guy ended up doing all right playing another game. I’ve seen a lot of Jimmy’s leave the game overseas and though there are a myriad of reasons why they didn’t make it I’m certain it wasn’t God’s fault.

Daily Reminder

It’s 7 a.m. when I step outside for my daily walk. My rounds are always interesting, but even more so this time of the year. I live in a city of 12 million people and in the midst of the masses we live in a colony. Not really a suburb, nor a separate township, but a thirty square mile area of privately owned three story apartments. On my walk I pass the Hindu and Sikh temples, a few Hindu shrines and a park. The streets are not yet congested, but there are a few buses picking up school kids, auto rickshaws loaded with vegetables head for the market and cows eating from garbage bens. There are a few old people like me, getting their early morning exercise and servants walking the dogs of their owners. The street sweepers are out, usually women with straw brooms stirring dust as they rake up yesterday’s trash, which is considerable as everyone throws their trash on the ground

There is a film over the city this time of the year and the fog is thick. Plane and train travel is delayed because of the haze that has descended and between the pollution, dust and smoke from the fires of the homeless who try to stay warm through the night, if the sun shines at all it won’t break through the smog until noon.

Though I like living here, there is nothing aesthetically appealing to this place. My morning walks does not lend to spiritual inspiration, except for the reminder of God’s grace. Each morning I am reminded of man’s fallen condition and what an ugly place we have made of His creation.

I am reminded how blessed I am to have spent the night in warm bed instead of the cold concrete in a plastic tent next to the open sewer that I see every morning on my walk.

I’m reminded how shallow so many of us are in the West who measure life by the house we have or the one we would like to have and how that our service to Him are the leftovers. We would like to do more, but we just can’t afford it right now.

And, I’m reminded that, even though I am grateful for what I do have, whether it’s a modest flat or a mansion, in God’s eyes, it’s still a dump.

I long for that morning walk my Creator intended for me. A place where there is no fog and a river that is not polluted.

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Tending Sheep

In the late ‘70’s California Governor Jerry Brown, and his then girlfriend Linda Ronstandt, visited some tribal’s in northern Kenya. He observed the Samburu herders in the desert who, from sunup to sundown, just follow their grazing herds.

“Is that all they do everyday,” he asked in astonishment?

Well, yes, that’s all they do. Illiterate bushman have no book to read or cassette’s to listen to and their only activity is guarding their herds and leading them to grass and water.

This week I am tending sheep. That’s code for doing the mundane things of my work; preparing a paper I have been asked to submit to group of academic’s next month, putting in order messages for a conference in Korea in a couple of weeks, doing financial book work and reading. These projects are tedious for me. I was raised with a mindset that emphasized action and so if I’m not moving I’m not working. These days I don’t feel engaged, like I’m not doing anything significant.

On my daily early morning walk I was thinking about the life of shepherds. It’s indeed a monotonous life, looking at the same goats every day, herding the same cattle, looking at the same terrain. Their days are punctuated with excitement in throwing rocks at birds, practicing their skills with the bow and arrow and catching up with the latest gossip from fellow herders. On a really big day they may have to chase away a jackal or carry a newborn kid back to the kraal.

Such was the life of a guy named Abraham, Moses and David. Though the Scriptures highlight their rise to prominence, great faith and lasting reputation for all succeeding generations, prior to fame, they were just herders of sheep. The shepherds, 2,000 years ago, were just watching the flocks at night. No kraal for them, just open field, when the angelic host of heaven announced that the Messiah had been born in a barn in Bethlehem. Talking about breaking monotony!

Most of life is sheep tending. It may be a housewife taking care of the kids, a grad-student preparing for an exam, a carpenter doing a remodeling job. Much of life is mundane and sometimes tedious. But it’s in the droning of life that God does His best work. Not all shepherds end up leading His people out of Egypt. Not all caretakers of sheep kill lions and bears and grow up to sit on a throne. There were a lot of shepherds tending their flocks that night, the angels only appeared to few.

What will be the headline of my next newsletter to our supporters? “The Lion Didn’t Eat Me--Successfully Tended Sheep,” might work…but then they have to read this blog to understand it.

Time/Event and Christmas

The discussion on whether U.S. churches should have services on Christmas Day is interesting. I am torn between those who are unyielding to the world (secular, non-Christian) and maintain that they will have services; versus those who say they will yield to the reality of the day we live in and find Christmas alternatives. My Christian worldview tells me one thing, my missiology tells me something else. When you spend everyday trying to make the Gospel relevant in the context in which you live, I am uneasy about saying, “Forget about culture reality, the message is more important than the context,” because without context the message is irrelevant. However, I am equally uncomfortable with saying, “Ignore the ritualism of one day, as the message of Christ is more than once a year and must be lived daily,” because ritualism is a message that can transcend context. Both are right, both are wrong.

The reality is that both sides have a good argument. You can make a strong Christian witness statement by holding church services on Christmas Day. A faithful few will show up, partly because of their desire to be in the Lord’s house on that special day; partly so they can self-righteously feel superior to those who don’t show up. Those who will not have Christmas services will do so because they feel it is only an issue if we make it so, will have celebrated Christmas with the church members before the 25th in many other forms, and partly because they, too, don’t want to be inconvenienced by splitting up their day between family and a religious gathering.

Of course, in many parts of the world, the matter on whether to meet is simply not up for debate. For most Christians in developing countries, or where followers of Jesus are in the minority, there is only one place a Christian will be on Christmas day, whether it falls on a Sunday or a Thursday, and that’s in church.

One reason Christmas is viewed differently is cultural perception of time and event. In the West, Christmas is time activity. To take out time to get the kids dressed, drive to church, have a one-hour service, breaks up the time day. When will we open presents? Will we make it over to Grandma’s house for dinner? Christmas is a time dilemma; it’s an inconvenient time for a church service.

For event-oriented cultures, Christmas is not confined to a segment of the day but is an all day happening. When you are a minority group it’s an event to be noticed, even if that means further persecution. It would be unthinkable NOT to go to church on the special event celebrating Christ’s birth.

So what’s the answer, to have church services or not to have church services this December 25th? There is no universal answer. It’s a matter of personal preference, conviction and culture. I know what I will be doing on that day, but I wouldn’t assume to dictate my preference onto others. It’s negotiable…not an issue I will die for, nor break fellowship with others who hold a different view.

Brick and Mortar

As I toured the campus I was impressed with the complex. This national institution has been around for many years and has significant funding. As I spoke to the chapel of 1,000 students it is clear that the vision of the founder is unquestioned and I have nothing but admiration for this brother who has made a significant contribution for the Kingdom. On closer inspection of the premises it was apparent that perhaps the vision is maybe a bit of overkill as many of the massive structures are underused. But, this brother keeps building because people from the West are enamored with construction and continue to fund an already impressive ministry.

There’s something uniquely human about the need to build edifices. From the days of the Tower of Babel, Pharaoh’s pyramids to Saddam’s many presidential palaces, we seem to have a lust for building monuments to ourselves. The Church has always had a love affair with brick and mortar as it something people can see and touch. One of the motivations for buildings, as Gluckman wrote about 40 years ago (Politics, law and ritual in tribal society) is because of status… “Particular kinds of property are valued in terms of their roles in status relations.” Whether it is the car we drive, the house we live in or the church we attend, our worth is derived from property status.

There is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with property as long as it is balanced. There is, however, something unseemly about conspicuous production. In some cases production is about power and the desire to move upward in community status. Envy is another motivation for property. Dominated by the “market,” people around the world labor to lift their status and keep up with the Jones’s or the Jain’s. Sometimes the Church also tears down barns to build bigger barns motivated by envy and to maintain a presence of status, either in their communities or among their peers.

A pastor friend of mine was in the process of a one million dollar capital campaign but confided in me, “I’m uneasy about this project. We need some more classroom space, but our church really isn’t growing and I wonder if it is really wise to go into this kind of a debt just to have a new facility?” He eventually compromised and built for the congregation’s need, not its wants.

The fine balance between use-value of property and symbol-value is an interesting study. Since the erection of monuments has been around since time began it’s not something that is going pass away, until, of course, time itself passes.

This Fleeting Life

A few weeks back I mentioned on a group e-list that I was reading a biography on the life of Bishop J. Waskom Pickett. A pastor wrote me asking where he could find a copy saying, “When I was a young man in ministry I worked in a retirement home and met the Pickett’s. I didn’t know much about them, except they lived in India. They were always very kind to me.”

Admittedly, I, too, had no prior knowledge of Bishop Pickett, but having read his life story I am struck by how fleeting life is and the contribution on this earth, though significant, is quickly forgotten. Pickett, who arrived in India before WWI, was a contemporary of E. Stanley Jones, was the inspiration of Donald McGavran’s work on church growth movements, was a personal friend of Nehru, India’s first Prime Minister. Though Waskom did not agree with Mahatma Gandhi, he had intense discussions with the Father of India and met him, at the request of Nehru, two days before his assassination to warn him of the dangers on his life. Bishop Pickett raised millions of dollars for schools, the building of churches and food aid for those starving on the sub-continent in the early ‘50’s. He met several times with President Truman and Eisenhower as a good will ambassador for India.

In today’s market Christianity, where present worth is determined by the size of one’s contribution as a pastor, missionary or layperson in the church, accomplishing great things so that we might receive great credit, often sidetracks us. In his time, Pickett received his just reward, but in the end he and his wife, Ruth, were just nice old people living in an Ohio retirement home.

I am sure the pastor who wrote me now wishes he had appreciated that elderly couple that was nice to him. An opportunity to sit and learn from living history lost forever. Well, not forever, for we will have eternity to listen to their stories and countless thousands more that faithfully served our Lord.

More Than Religion

In a recent newspaper article it stated that India was one of the most religious countries in the world. 86% of the population, according to the report, has a religious belief. This is only second to the Philippines, which claimed to be 91% religious.

The issue of being religious or, the new term, being spiritual, is of course not the point. One can be a devout Christian and still commit the atrocities of ethnic cleansing in Rwanda; a pious Hindu and burn the trains that Muslims ride in; a passionate follower of the Koran and gas Kurds (who are also Muslims). The issue is not religion, but the object of one’s faith. For those who follow Christ, it is never about the institution of religion but what it means to be a follower of Christ. Our emphasis is having a personal and intimate relationship with a personal and living God. Our desire is that people would see the Christ of Christianity, not the religious structure that does not always represent who He is.

Morning Train

On my recent trip up north into Bihar, we visited several different villages. A couple of times we had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to catch the train to the next venue.

Though still in what would be considered Fall, this time of the year the temperatures are quite cool at night. As we were getting ready for our train to arrive I took this picture of those who spent the night on the railway platform. Last year I got stuck in Lucknow with no place to sleep so I, too, had to find a clean place to lie down through the night. It was one of the coldest and most uncomfortable nights I have ever experienced. Sleeping on cold concrete at the railway station ranks right up there with the night I slept in a sleeping bag over a pigpen in the mountains of southwest China. Such is the life of a cross-cultural worker.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Standing in the middle of a busy street, some guy asked, “Why are you taking a picture of a telephone pole?”

“Foreigners. They do the strangest things,” he probably was thinking as he walked away.

Later I told my friend that the telephone pole is a visual metaphor of the problem with communication. Whether it’s between person-to-person or person-to-God, the wires on that pole in Bihar symbolize the problem with maintaining a good relationship. If I look close enough perhaps I can make out a bird’s nest, or is that just a rusted light cover? Where do the electric line and the phone line cross? Gee, not only is there a problem with voice transmission, it’s shorting out the power!

My life is filled with my wires twisted, crossed, cluttered. No wonder I can’t hear the voice of God, the wire is either cut or choked by the other junk that is cutting me off from the main line. I wonder sometimes if God isn’t trying to make connection but on the other end no one is picking up. “I think I hear you, Lord. Can you speak a little louder?”

“Fix the line, Richard…Can you hear me now?”

Village Life

This past week I had the opportunity to travel into another state in northeastern India. I always enjoy getting out of the city as it gives me a different perspective that is so different from the middle-class environment I live in most of the time.

It’s harvest time in this part of the country near the Nepal border. From early morning men, women and children work in the fields until late at night. With my zoom lens I was able to photograph one woman walking home after a long day in the field. There is something remarkably peaceful about village life. They know little about world events, as their main concern is eking out a living, having enough money to educate their children, to have enough food for another year. What they lack in material goods they compensate by having a strong community support group. My mind went back to those years I spent in Kenya. Like Africans, every place we visited drinking chai was compulsory. They villagers may not have much, but they more than make up by being kind and generous hosts.

The God of Culture

This past week I have been reading research papers. In my class on cultural anthropology the students are required to choose a people group, do a detailed library research on that people group and come up with a hypothesis on how they might present the Good News to them in a culturally relevant way. Some of the people groups include the migrants moving into New Delhi (why they move to urban areas and the challenges they face when they arrive); Muslims who live on the coast; prostitutes (who are now given the politically correct title as commercial sex trade traffickers) and the disabled. It’s been interesting reading as I learn more about the culture of the varied people in the country.

My role, as a teacher and consultant, is to create a thirst for others to learn and love mosaic of people that God has created. I never tire of learning why people do what they do and how they organize their life. All mankind manipulate their social environment so they can cope with this thing called life. Some cultures have very strong family bonds and their ethnicity or their caste provides them the security they long for in a hostile and cruel world we live in. Others are motivated by pure economics, either to just get by or to collect as much stuff as they possibly can get. Many, most, find religion as the foundation of their being, though some religions operate from the fear of the gods they serve or the unidentified forces they believe control their world. What strikes me as I study culture is how similar we all are, yet so diverse.

It may be true that all roads lead toward heaven, but not all roads actually lead to God. There is a way that seems right to man, the Scriptures tells us, but in the end it leads to death. The key, for all man, is to find the way that is right by Him. That way, God’s way, is hard to find when we are prisoners in our own culture. I pray that my students will learn to love the culture that God has created and in it present the Way that leads to a God who is not be feared but to be loved, for He first loved us.

Social Time

Last week my twin brother had a birthday.

I hate it when old people ask, “How old do you think I am?” It’s a trick to make you make them feel better by saying they look like they’re in they're ‘60’s when reallly they’re in their ‘80’s. Now I’m doing it, and it’s depressing.

People of different nationalities have a hard time guessing the age of other people of different ethnicities. I always had a hard time guessing the age of the Kenyan’s I worked. with and they never could guess my age (all us white folk look the same, you know). A couple of weeks ago I was teaching a class in India and they asked me how old I was? I did the senior citizen thing, “How old do you think I am?”

I went to the white board and gave them a range of options: 45-50; 50-55; 55-60; 60-65; 65-70; 70-75. Most of them put me in the 65-70 category, some put me in the above 70-age group? Sigh, no one put me in the under 50-age range.

In some ways the students gave me a compliment. While the West places high value on youth, in many other cultures older people are perceived as having legitimacy. Social time means that you have something to say because you’ve been nicked in life and are still standing. Really old people are revered, as they are seemingly closer to God (more truth to that than they intend, I think).

One of my favorite authors passed away yesterday. At the age of 95, Peter Drucker was still sought after for his youthful and innovative thinking without the foolishness of youth. Age, as the old saying goes, is often more a state of mind. If I can grow old with a mind that is focused on the future and not the past, it really doesn’t matter how many years I rack up.

Happy birthday, Bill. How old are you?

Words Of Affirmation

As I sat listening to the, not hardly five foot girl speak in Sunday morning chapel, she spoke emotionally about her father. Konya’s father, a nominal Christian living in the northeast of India, loves his daughter and had great aspirations for her life. Konya is bright and outgoing and her dad wished that one day she would enter politics. To that end she was moving, until she accepted Christ at a youth meeting. Her life was transformed. Leaving the ambitions of a career in the secular world, Konya took a job working for a Christian organization, much to her parent’s disappointment. After a few years her fellow workers, no doubt seeing her potential, encouraged her to pursue further studies. She is now in her second year pursuing her MA in missions.

Konya broke down as she talked about how that all her other friends at home had good jobs and was getting on with life. Then, fighting back the tears with lips quivering she said, “But I am still dependent on my parents.”

The bond between a father and daughter is unique. I know, as I have two precious grown daughters of my own. As Konya spoke I thought of how, because of her close relationship with her father she cares what he thinks. Her motivation in life is to serve Christ regardless of the price, but in the deep recesses of her heart she is motivated to please her earthly father as well. No greater affirmation can a child receive in life than a word of “I’m proud of you,” from your father or mother. That’s true if the child is three or fifty-three.

But the words of affirmation only have meaning if the relationship is grounded in affection. If throughout the child’s life they have been criticized and made to feel of little worth, even a “good job,” rings hollow. A son or daughter from a negative home atmosphere is likely to say, “I could care less what my parent’s think.” If the motivation is to gain acceptance from an abusive parent, will it ever be satisfying? Probably not.

Konya’s testimony reminded me, first, to remember to be mindful of my children and grandchildren. They don’t need my affirmation, but may they always know that I am proud of them no matter how God leads them in life. Second, and most importantly, I am reminded that my Father loves me, is proud of me, and I long to hear Him say, “Well done.”

Dilbert Principle

“Don’t do as I do,” the old saying goes, “do as I say.”

In my classes, equipping for cross-cultural ministries, I state that if a family is unable to do ministry overseas they will do one of two things: (1) quit and go back home or, (2) be involved in irrelevant busy work on the field. People that fall into the second category are not those who cannot adjust to the culture but are people who, for one reason or another, can’t seem to find their niche in ministry. Perhaps they are not gifted in teaching, facilitating, or some technical skill that is required. Since they made a commitment for cross-cultural work, left their jobs, raised their support and now are on the field, it would be a shame for them to return back to the states. So what do we do with these people? We make them managers!

I have been observing this phenomenon managerial ministry among different organizations for sometime now, and believe me, they are not confined to a few. I’m not sure what drives this need to generate jobs for people on the field, but it’s now common practice to create a hierarchy of roles and give everyone a title so they can justify their existence as well as their considerable budget. Some organizations have created titles such as regional leaders, team leaders, strategic leaders and short-term coordinators. With all these managers one wonders who they are managing and who’s left to do the work? I know of one group that has only three families on their particular field and, since they can’t work together, they have all been made managers…and they go to area meetings to learn how to manage more effectively.

L. Peter first introduced the Peter Principle in a humoristic book (of the same title) describing the pitfalls of bureaucratic organization. The original principle states that in a hierarchically structured administration, people tend to be promoted up to their "level of incompetence".

The Dilbert Principle, the syndicated cartoon character, has overtaken the Peter Principle. Now, apparently, the incompetent workers are promoted directly to management without ever passing through the temporary competence stage.

Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert, states, “When I entered the workforce in 1979, the Peter Principle described management pretty well. Now I think we'd all like to return to those Golden Years when you had a boss who was once good at something. I get all-nostalgic when I think about it. Back then, we all had hopes of being promoted beyond our levels of competence. Every worker had a shot at someday personally navigating the company into the tar pits while reaping large bonuses and stock options. It was a time when inflation meant everybody got an annual raise; a time when we freely admitted that the customer didn't matter. It was a time of joy.”

“We didn't appreciate it then” Adams continues, “but the Peter Principle always provided us with a boss who understood what we did for a living. Granted, he made consistently bad decisions -- after all, he had no management skills. But at least they were the informed decisions of a seasoned veteran from the trenches.”

While there is a role for managers in missions, perhaps we should begin with those who can say, as did the Apostle Paul, “Follow my example. Do as I do, not just as I say.”

Dowry

I am slowly changing my mind about the validity of the dowry system.

I understand the function of bride price, where the father of the daughter is compensated for loss labor when he gives her off to be married. It’s not really a crass system, as many in the West would see it. Having observed the bride price system among the Pokot or Kenya, I never looked at it as a “selling off” the girls. There are always abuse of any system, and it’s true that some fathers misuse the bride price practice to gain economic advantage . Bride price disputes can go on for generations if girl is barren, lazy or just a troublemaker and the groom’s family feels they have been cheated. Marriage and family disputes are messy affairs no matter the culture or custom. The West touts “fairness” laws to protect the woman in cases of divorce, but that doesn’t mean our system is without flaws. Obviously, in a culture that has a nearly fifty percent divorce rate one could hardly say our practice is morally superior.

The custom of dowry, where the family of the daughter pays a negotiated price to the groom’s family, seems, on the surface to be reasonable. The groom’s family is, after all, taking on the responsibility of the girl and therefore to support the extended family, dowry is, in theory, a helping hand for the well-being of the new couple. Since the extended family financial structure is one of pooled resources, what is given to one is shared by all. Again, that’s the theory. I suspect that in most cases it functions well.

Almost every week, if not everyday, in some newspaper throughout the nation there are stories of brides being beaten, harassed or killed by the groom’s family. In today’s paper there is a story about a young woman who killed herself with a suicide note stating that she was no longer able to cope with her mother-in-law and sister-in-law’s constant abuse and demands that she go back to her father and demand more dowry money.

Because all cultural systems are, as my friend Sherwood Lingenfelter says, prison’s of disobedience, whether the bonds of marriage is through dowry or bride price negotiation or through unreliable romantic love, the only way it will have a chance of survival is through the transformation of the heart. That transformation comes when both husband and wife know true love through Christ. When that transformation takes place, any arrangement of marriage will do.

Escapism

You have to hand it to God; He really knows how to mix things up? That's especially true for me this week. I’m on an Indian campus, teaching students from the south in Kerela to the northeast in Assam, with a strong contingent from Myanmar (Burma). Visiting faculty include an old couple from England, one from the Netherlands, New Zealand and Australia. I’m the only American in sight.

It’s not bad. You have to put up with an occasional swipe at our President and his motives for going into Iraq. I just shrug my shoulders and remind them that he was re-elected, along with our strongest allies, Prime Minister Howard (of Australia) and Tony Blair of the U.K. I don’t remind them that those who opposed the war, Germany’s Schroeder was voted out and France’s Chirac is on his way out. I resist telling them that I can’t seriously discuss issues with those whose main source of information is the BBC or CNN. The problem with internationals is they miss the point of what really goes on inside another persons country therefore their arguments are merely repeats from last nights newscast.

Apart from politics, the atmosphere is quite amiable. It’s interesting to listen others talk about the new Bishop in Sydney and the dreadful weather in Bristol. I can appreciate their banter about cricket and how they do wish there was more time for bird watching. Of course the only thing my students want to talk to me about is their research assignment and how difficult will the final exam be? It’s tough being the only “Yank” on the block.

My diversion is my computer and the Internet. I search desperately to see if I have mail from my family or friends, read my daughter’s latest blog and check yesterday’s baseball scores. Thankfully I can go to FoxNews and watch the latest news video’s and learn that the rains in the northeast continue, people are gearing up for the new season of AMERICAN IDOL and that LOST has captured the imagination of the masses. Hardly things that would make me want to sing the national anthem, but news about home is interesting, even if it’s undemanding.

It’s a long weekend, and I have two more weeks to go. A good biography entitled, THE ROAD TO DELHI – BISHOP PICKETT REMEMBERED 1890 – 1981, keeps me entertained. The Dean of Academics gave me the recent movies on DVD to watch on my laptop. It’s called ‘escapism,’ and it’s what you do when you are the only one of your kind surrounded by multicultural's.

Giftedness

“How did you discover YOUR gift,” the student asked me in class today?

In my lecture I made the comment that in finding their niche in ministry they need to match their calling with their giftedness. My standard speech is, “If God has given you the gift of administration, don’t try to be an evangelist. If He has given you the gift of a teacher that doesn’t make you qualified to be a pastor. People get frustrated in their service for Christ because they are trying to do things they are not gifted to do.”

I’m not sure when I knew my niche was in teaching? I suppose it was when I was pastoring my first church in Texas. The most enjoyable facets of being a pastor was when I teaching. That love for teaching carried on through my time in Kenya, discipling others informally, which eventually led me to establish a Bible institute.

In the process of learning ones gift, you invariably learn the areas where you are NOT gifted. It was at that time I realized my gift was not in being a pastor and I wasn’t a very good preacher. I have also learned over the years that I’m weak in administration. It’s as important to know what you are not good at as to know what you are gifted in doing.

Having a desire to serve doesn’t override giftedness. I’d love to be able to sing, but those who have heard me sing, and that is a very few people, know my inability to carry a tune in a sack overrules my aspirations. One may desire to be a missionary, but that doesn’t mean they are gifted to live overseas. I’m not sure that I buy into the well-worn phrase that “What God is looking for is not ability but availability.” I’m available to belt out a song, but no one is inviting me to sing in the choir. Giftedness MUST be coupled with calling.

Finding your giftedness is a process. Some learn their role in life early. For others, probably for most of us, the discovery of what we are really good at is through a period of trial and error. If you don’t try to teach you’ll never know if you are any good at it. If you don’t try to live overseas you will never know if you are cut out to do it. The problem comes when you discover your don’t have those gifts, will you acknowledge it and find something you are good at? Life is too short to continue to try to make your square gift fit into an occupational round hole.