Welcome Back
Welcome back to the Mustard Seed Ministries newsletter. In this issue, Bob wraps up his thoughts and perspective on "Hope" and how it has affected the life of a young Haitian man. And we also have the privilege of learning a little about the Ethiopian culture from a North American who has lived and served in Africa for almost eight years. For many of us who have never left the comfort of our native land, these perspectives provide an invaluable look into the different cultural, yet entirely Biblical, daily lives of believers around the globe. Thank you for subscribing and I hope you find these articles as informative and inspiring as I have.
Hope - part 2
The Wikipedia free encyclopedia defines hope as “belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Hope implies a certain amount of despair, wanting, wishing, suffering or perseverance — i.e., believing that a better or positive outcome is possible even when there is some evidence to the contrary.”
Pearl S. Buck once said, “Life without idealism is empty indeed. We just hope or starve to death.”
Without hope, life is drab, a dreary landscape that lacks vibrancy and life, void of meaning and joy. Even a small amount of hope can be sufficient for us to face each new day. One man had very few friends but he had a small dog that loved him and this was enough to dispel despair.
Most of us try to manipulate life in a way that allows us to hope for something, something that promises to make life more tolerable, liveable, and enjoyable. If we choose the wrong pursuits, too shallow or unrealistic, they go the way of the early morning dew that sparkles and dances until the sun seeks it out. We are left with disillusionment or cynicism and must find something else that promises happiness or slip into despair.
We can think of hope in two distinct ways. On one hand we may hope that our spouse doesn’t forget to cook our favorite meal, that the boss doesn’t forget to give us the raise he promised, and that our kids don’t forget to behave in a restaurant. Let’s call this form of hope, “wishful thinking.”
The hope we are talking about in this newsletter is what I call “concrete hope”. If we were sailors who used celestial navigation (the stars) to find our way, we would have a hope (assurance) that no matter where we were on the ocean, these stars would guide us home. Suppose that we have a large sum of money invested in very stable US treasury notes that would mature in 30 years (allowing us to redeem them for cash), we could survive financial setbacks because we had the hope (assurance) that in 30 years we would have the money we needed. Concrete hope is not wishful thinking but a solid promise that a specified event will take place at some future date. This promise gives us hope in the present.
As we further dissect concrete hope, we find we can divide it into several broad categories, spanning from “life hope" to "death hope.”
Life hope can include our physical condition, our financial situation, our social network (or lack thereof), our career, and our recreational pursuits. It is the hope we have in this life.
Near term life hope may include hope that our evening meal will be tasty, that our day at work will be fulfilling, that our interactions with others will be pleasant and rewarding today. It is like the waves on the ocean, subject in many ways to the winds of chance. It can change quickly for the better or the worse.
Long term life hope is more stable, more like the ocean tides that change slowly and consistently. It may include the commitment to obtain a college degree that promises the hope of a brighter, though distant, future. Even though it is future-oriented it allows hope to wash through our being today. It is an assurance of better things to come and therefore affords security (assurance) when other things are not going well.
Death hope has to do with life after death. I believe that there is something inside us that desires and believes that there is life after death. This seems to be universal among most cultures and throughout history. I believe that our Creator put this something in us when He made us and that it is a foundational element of our being.
The Bible teaches us that there are two - and only two - places in eternity: heaven and hell. If God does not live in us then death hope becomes a nightmare. But if we have given ourselves to the Lord then death hope promises us an eternal existence we cannot even imagine.
Death hope for the Christian is like the depths of the sea, calm and secure. No matter what happens on the surface, even if a hurricane is reeking havoc above, in the depths it is calm and secure. This hope of a Christian is not wishful thinking, but a promise from our Creator and the King of this universe. It is the most secure promise we will ever obtain in this life. With this assurance (hope) the Christian can endure the most terrible treatment or situations. In the end the Christian will win - win peace, assurance and hope in this life, no matter what the circumstances, and an incredible, undeserved treasure in eternity.
Let’s go back to the country of Haiti and finish the real life story of Ludget, the five-year-old left without hope after the death of his mother. We began the story of Ludget in our last newsletter and now we will finish it.
“When I was very young, when momma die, I thought there is no hope for me,” he finally said, “I even wonder why, I wonder why I did not die in the same hour, the same minute as my momma.”
The interpreter was doing his best to convey the young man’s message, starting and stopping in his attempts to get the wording just right.
“I ate my food with tears,” he continued, “my grandmother and uncle said I was no good, a no-account. I eat my food with my tears, because they curse me because I do not have mommy and daddy. They say I will be a good-for-nothing forever because I didn’t have a momma or daddy. They want me to be in charge of all the work. I was to do everything. They force me to do work I could not do. I had no one to stand up for me. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I had to do everything they made me do, with tears. When I wanted to have some free time, be with some of the little neighbors to play with, they would whip me and say I should not want to have my own time.”
I leaned back in my chair. So it is true, and at only five years old. Much of Haiti condones this outrageous treatment of innocent children, as if the children themselves were guilty of some serious crime. Is it a crime to lose one’s mother and father, or to be born in a household that doesn’t have enough to eat?
The orphans are not alone in their suffering as there are several hundred thousand children who are taken out of homes that are too poor to feed them. These “restivecs” are then placed in more prosperous homes where many become virtual salves. Some are treated well, but too many are abused.
“I never knew who my father was,” Ludget continued, “but I do remember the man who killed my mother. He yelled at my mama and it wasn’t until I was older that I found out he wanted her to go to bed with him,” Ludget said. “She refused him and he went off yelling and cursing. Several weeks later mama was dead. He killed her.”
“On a morning like this, when I was little, I go to the market with my grandma, and there was this guy who smoked, who knew my grandma. He started to explain to my grandma what’s happened to my mom, why she is dead, who liked her. He mentioned to my grandmother that he had driven the killer of my momma to the Voodoo priest. He said if he had known it was her daughter, he would never had helped this guy.”
“After that she was sick for several weeks,” Ludget continued, “and then she become dead.”
Voodoo and other types of Satanic worship are boldly overt in Haiti, something that shocks and challenges the North American mind. I had found Haitians reluctant to talk to white people about these spirits. In this mysterious and raw land things happen that Americans have a difficult time understanding and accepting but cannot deny.
Ludget was unable to protect himself as a child, but as a teen he was big enough to rebel at the yoke that his grandmother and uncle had placed on him. The rage that he contained over the years broke loose at times. He carried a lot of emotional and spiritual baggage, but he simply wanted to be loved and accepted. One day God called to him and his world changed forever.
“It was a crusade for Christ that the pastor did up on this mountain.” Ludget said. “At home I could hear the noise of the crusade. They were saying that we should come to Christ. I did not know what this means to come to Christ. So, I went to the church on the next Sunday morning. While the pastor was preaching, in a part of the sermon, the pastor say that if anyone is disappointed in his family and if there is nobody to think or care about him, Jesus Christ opens His arms to him. After I hear this, I give my heart to Jesus.”
“This made a big difference, a wide difference in me when I come to Christ. He made a way for me to walk with Him and I find people who care about me. I tried to show my grandma and uncle about my new Christian faith but they rejected it. A pastor who did not know me at all began to treat me like his son, he walked with me, and he paid for my schooling.”
“I would never think, never imagine that I would go to school,” he continued. “There are people in my region that have mother and father and never reach the level I reach in school, in two years I should finish with high school. For now I cannot pay for my schooling but I know the Lord is still working.”
I could see that Ludget’s Christian faith, and the help of the Christians in this church, had an enormous impact on this this man’s life. Very few Haitians make it through high school and few have a deep Christian faith.
Ludget had come far from the helpless five-year-old, but I couldn’t shake the picture of his mother, dying from an evil curse, powerless to help the little boy who clung to her, frantic to assure his survival. I could sense her overwhelming stress and anxiety, her vulnerable, helpless state of mind and I suddenly felt an urge to somehow reach out, take her hand and gently whisper. “Momma, he’s OK, Momma”.
Cross Cultural Experience
In America, getting the job done is the most important thing. In Africa, developing the relationship is the most important thing. As an American living in Africa, how does one deal with this—how does one handle these conflicting priorities? It develops into an internal struggle that will probably never be resolved in the lifetime of an expatriate missionary.
After nearly eight years in Africa (Ethiopia) we have arrived at the very awkward point of being too task-oriented for the Ethiopians, but too relationship-oriented for the Americans who come and visit (and work). The Ethiopians want us to be like them, taking our time to develop the relationship; the Americans can’t understand why we aren’t driven to focus on the task and only the task.
Our Ethiopian friends think nothing of asking us four or five times in a day how we are. The only acceptable answer, just as in America, is fine. If you start to tell them that you ache in your knee or have a sadness over a friend who died back in America, they don’t know how to react. The only answer is “fine”.
Of course this greeting doesn’t stop there. It moves on to, “How is Peggy?” “Fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, she’s fine.” “How is your work?” “Fine.” “Sure?” “Yes, it’s fine.” “And your children, how are they?” “Thank you, they are fine.” “Sammy [our son who was with us nearly six years in Ethiopia], how is he?” “He’s fine.” “And your parents?” “Fine, they are fine.”
The reader who has never visited Africa may surmise that the above is an exaggeration, but it is not. And, actually, it goes on day after day. Sometimes, to my very good friends, who I know will understand, I will respond, “Thank you, I am fine. So is Peggy, and our kids are fine, as well as my work. Everything is fine.”
Those African friends that know that I am just being “American” and who have dealt with Westerners before, understand that I am merely short-circuiting the process. They just laugh and go along with it, sometimes even imitating me in return. But one cannot do this with the new acquaintance or casual acquaintance. You will be measured to be abrupt and rude and will be dismissed as uncaring among their friends.
In Ethiopia one of the great cultural traditions is the Coffee Ceremony. In this ceremony a group of people sit around a lady who has brought together green coffee beans, cold charcoal, water, popcorn or roasted barley (called kolo), sugar, milk, incense, grass for the floor, a charcoal burner, a coffee pot, many small coffee cups, a mortar and pestle, and various other tools.
The grass is spread around on the floor as a sign of hospitality and respect for the guests.
The charcoal is lit and when it gets hot, the coffee beans are roasted. At just the right time, at the perfect stage of roasting, the beans are taken off the fire and carried from person to person to smell, just as sommeliers do for fine wine at the restaurant.
Everyone nods his approval that the beans are ready and well-roasted. Then the water is poured into the coffee pot and is boiled over the same charcoal. During this time the lady grinds the coffee beans into a very fine powder using the wooden mortar and pestle.
When the water begins to boil, the coffee grounds are poured into the coffee pot. The guests continue visiting as the coffee water boils. There is an exacting process for pouring out the water, checking the strength of the coffee, adding more ground coffee, boiling, checking, boiling, checking.
Of course, during this time the guests are expected to be visiting with each other and enjoying the smell of the coffee brewing. At some point the incense is added to the charcoal, so now two strong fragrances are present—the incense and the brewing coffee.
The popcorn is often prepared away from the coffee ceremony, but can also be popped in front of the guests.
At long last when the coffee consistency is perfect, the coffee preparer takes each person’s order—black, coffee with milk, coffee with sugar, coffee with both, and also how much sugar or milk one wants. The tiny cups are passed to each respective person and the popcorn and kolo are passed around, too.
While that is going on, the lady coffee preparer is adding more water to the coffee pot. This is in preparation for the second round of coffee. After the first round is completed and complimented profusely, the second round begins. While the second round is being consumed, more water is added and the third round is prepared.
As you can guess, the coffee gets thinner with each round. Each round has a name (1st—ah’-bol, 2nd—toh’ nah, 3rd—beh reh kah’).
The Coffee Ceremony can easily consume up to two hours. For the average Western visitor, it is at first an extremely interesting and intriguing ceremony. They can learn a lot about a slice of Ethiopian culture this way.
But, you can imagine then the average Westerner being invited to his fourth or fifth coffee ceremony in two or three weeks. Often these are held during the day after lunch time. By this time, the visitor will come to us and ask: “Oh my goodness, I have just been invited to another coffee ceremony. How can I politely decline without hurting someone’s feelings?”
At this point, on a very small scale, the cultures have now clashed. What do you do?
If you extrapolate this up to major issues, such as matters of worship, or work productivity, or integrity, etc., one can easily see that walking the line between two cultures can be a real challenge.
For us personally, working at the Korean Hospital (Myungsung Christian Medical Center), we have three major cultures (Ethiopian, Korean, American), along with some additional ones (Norwegian, Finnish, Canadian, Italian, Korean-American, other African countries, etc.). You can only imagine what it is like to try to keep everyone happy under such conditions. But that’s a subject for another article…
Article submitted by Gary Ifft