a tug of worlds

As I leave my adolescence behind, I find myself in the middle of a ferocious tug of war. After many touching encounters with the world’s underprivileged, I have wanted to forsake my lavish American lifestyle. However, the desire to meet societal standards makes it a challenge. For a humanitarian spirit like myself, to buy or not to buy is a troubling dilemma.

At first glance it may seem simple. I must simply avoid the unnecessary acquisition of stuff. But I, like many American Generation Y-ers, was raised in a world where happiness, acceptance and success were all implicitly measured by the designer brands you owned, luxury cars you drove and extravagant vacations you enjoyed. I live in a land where 16-year-olds receive new SUVs and sports cars for birthday presents. A place where college students, including myself, carry their books about poverty, disease and other world injustices in designer bags. And where private schools schedule ski vacations so families can make use of their “snow homes.”

I always had an innate sense of caring for others. I would put money in the offering at church for those starving African children, and my family made several trips down to Mexico to give away our old clothes. I was well aware that there were many people in the world who lived nothing like I did. But it never really affected me. That is, until my first trip across the big pond to South Africa. There I made friends which shoeless children dressed in tattered clothing. There I held children whose parents’ lives had been stolen by a rampant disease called AIDS. At the formative age of 16, I found myself in a place that didn’t put value on brands or appearance, but rather on life, simply because life is a luxury there.

Upon returning, my heart had been transformed. Instead of longing for a new Coach purse, I wanted to see shoes on the feet of the AIDS orphans I had held. Yet within months, I was competing with my Juicy Couture-clad friends. I was spending $700 on purses. I was asking for a new, faster car. And I was concerned with the weight of Nicole Richie.

Year after year I returned to South Africa to see my friends who were delighted with their one tattered uniform and the chance to attend school with poor lighting and no heat. I held one dying child after another. And I would return each time to the States adamant that in remembrance of them, I would not succumb to our materialistic society. And time after time, I would fail miserably at my resolve.

As I am about to return to the poverty and crime plagued country that changed my heart three years ago, I wonder if seven months will be enough to transform my whole heart and mind. When I return, will I be able to ignore my society’s demand to impress? I’m not sure.

As an American Generation Y-er, consumer is my middle name. We are notoriously known as big spenders. A recent study published in the Journal of Consumer Marketing found that Generation Y responds to advertising and marketing. They are much more likely to spend compulsively. Growing up in an age of the cell phone, the credit card and the Internet, we have learned how to get what we want when we want it.

So what do we do? I’m not sure I can give any answers. So for now, I will continue to wrestle with what it means to be a globally aware young American. With time, I am certain this tug of war will be resolved and I will find myself in a place of true harmony.

published in magazine "Generation WHY"

ubuntu

As you are all well aware of by now, South Africa has stolen my heart. Actually, it’s probably safe to say that South Africa has taken me hostage.

“A person is a person through others,” states a Zulu proverb and my personal favorite adage.
This maxim reflects the sub-Saharan Africa ideology of ubuntu. It is the belief in a collective bond of sharing that unites all humanity. It has been translated as “humanity towards others” or “I am because we are.”

“A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed,” South Africa Archbishop Desmond Tutu once said.

As I am about to move to the country that was founded on such a principle, I ask myself what does it mean to become “human” through other people? How am I going to allow the people I come in contact with over the next seven months to shape who I become?

My new community will consist of Xhosa and Afrikaans speaking South Africans. I will be learning the languages, eating the food, attending their churches and building relationships. When I return to the States seven months later, it is my hope that I can be called a person with ubuntu.

Tutu wisely advises that true self-assurance comes from being a part of something bigger than ourselves. In our American society the individual is emphasized, but I believe life is meant to be lived in community.

So as we prepare to leave the APU community for the summer, the semester, or even for good, I encourage you to engage in a new community. Whether it’s a missions team, a study abroad program, or a new job, immerse yourself because who you become over the summer can be the result of something bigger than yourself.

Engage by learning the language or memorizing the mission statement. Find out the history of the organization, school or country you find yourself a part of. Get to know your coworker’s favorite childhood memory or their big dream. Whatever it is, take the time to engage.

I leave you with a question wonderfully posed by former South African President and civil rights pioneer Nelson Mandela. “Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to improve?”

drink up

A few weeks ago I went to church in a bar.
Yes, a bar.
I walked in to a nightclub and was greeted by a mammoth shark tank. To my left was a well stocked bar and on my right were billiard tables. The dance floors were now covered with chairs. The lighting was dim, but made for a cozy atmosphere. My roommate and I pulled up some barstools and took a seat.
The room was full of all kinds of people: the blonde Newport mom, the teenage music enthusiast, the biker guy with enough ink on his body to write this column, the artsy college student, the surfer with salt water still in his ears and the sweet old lady that acts like everyone’s grandma.
It seemed like truly everyone was welcomed in this place.
During regular hours, the Shark Club is a swanky nightclub. But on Sunday mornings cocktails and clutches are replaced with Starbucks and Bibles.
This Newport church isn’t the only one to hold church in unusual places. Florentine Gardens in Hollywood and The Mayan in L.A. are also transformed into places of worship.
At first impression, church in a bar may seem odd.
But I think it may be the closest thing today to Jesus’ kind of ministry.
Ideally, all ministry is Jesus’ kind of ministry. However, not all modern day ministry is done how Jesus did his. That’s not to say other approaches aren’t valid. Many forms of evangelism are effective for different audiences.
What I’m talking about is meeting people where they are instead of drawing them to us. Jesus hung out with people most of us wouldn’t spend more than a minute with. He sought after the prostitutes, the liars and the cheaters.
Jesus went out to teach, he didn’t stay in the synagogue. He seemed to only be at the temple to reprimand them or re-teach them something they thought they already knew.
His ministry was out on the lake and in the towns, wherever the people that needed to hear his message were. He didn’t make them come to him.
So often I believe we focus on making church relevant for the nonbeliever. But I think the best approach is go out of our comfort zones to meet them where they feel at ease.
I’ve always had a problem with mass evangelism. I know it can be effective and powerful. I went to a Billy Graham crusade in high school and saw the Lord do great things.
However, I personally cannot stand on a stage and try to convince people I don’t know to come to Christ. And I think more and more of my generation is feeling the same. Recently, there has been much more emphasis put on relational ministry. Sure, it may not yield as many big numbers right away. But relationships having lasting implications.
I will never forget the people who have taken the time to get to know me before ministering to me. The times I’ve had with such people have been forever impacting. To be honest, I don’t remember many sermons, but I do remember the actions of those who have met me where I was. And that has been my saving grace.
Without being pantheistic, God is everywhere. And we can find him in the most unexpected places, even a bar.

oh to resolve

New years resolutions: go to the gym 3 times a week, eat less carbs, go to bed earlier, stop drinking coffee, make my bed every day, do homework on the weekends, shop less and never skip church.
What a lovely list.
Now let’s see, what will I actually do?
Well, I’ll probably go to the gym 4 times this semester. When I actually do have a free time, why would I want to go to the gym?
As long as I go to APU I will never be able to escape the carbs.
There will always be something more fun or important to do than go to bed.
No coffee? Hah.
My bed is lofted. No one will know if it’s messy.
Weekends are notorious for wasting time.
Shopping less could be a ligitimate goal. Only because my bank account continues to shrink.
And well, if I keep wasting my weekends, Sundays will be chained to homework.
So what’s my new year’s resolution for 2007?
Do life better than in 2006.
Pretty simple.
I can’t say I’ll loose those extra pounds The Clause has so graciously given to me or give up being known by name and drink at Starbucks.
But I will do what I did last year, better.
So I might make it the gym only 4 times this semester, but that’s a 100 percent improvement from last semester.
And with a smaller bank account, I guess I can be more prudent.

Awakard, please.

Last week was one of the most awkward and uncomfortable weeks of the semester. And I loved it. Thanks to my classes, I was forced to immerse myself in situations that made me the minority. I was surrounded by people and ideas I didn’t understand. And for a know-it-all like me, that was painful. But I learned. And that’s my favorite thing to do.
My fish-out-of-water experiences began with my service-learning project at Gladstone High School. For one of my journalism classes, we help advise the yearbook staff at Gladstone. I was not sure how I’d be received since my background is obviously so much different than my Latino students. What was I to share with them? But then it hit me; maybe these girls had something to teach me, too. Afterall, one of the girls in my group is a 16 year old mother who not only goes to school but it also involved in a medical assistant training program. Talk about a lesson in responsibility. I walked away from my visit so excited for the reciprocal learning that I’m sure is to come in the next six weeks.
Next up, I had to attend a campus event that was sponsored by a group different than my own ethnicity. So I decided on a Black Student Awareness meeting. I’ll be honest... I was terrified. Growing up in a white upper middle class suburb, I’ve had limited exposure to the African American culture. Sure, I’ve spent the last three summers in South Africa, but that’s completely different culture. Coming into the meeting, I wasn’t sure how I would be received. And I wasn’t sure how to act. Should I just be quite and observe? Well that might come off like I don’t care. Should I participate? But who am I to offer anything to their discussion? I don’t want to be offensive.
During the meeting we discussed issues facing black youth. I attentively listened to the black students share their own personal experiences. I was intrigued. I wanted to ask so many questions but tried to stay on the conservative side of annoying. I left the meeting feeling so inspired. Here was a group of people taking an active stand on something they cared deeply about. I continued to think about the meeting throughout the next day. Their passion caught my curiosity. I think I’m going back.
I ended my week of week of awkward at a prayer service at a Muslim mosque. Talk about being nervous. I had prepared all week but still had no idea what to expect. I sat bright eyed, with my head covered, on the floor in the back. I took it all in in awe. The simplicity and sanctity of the service was touching. For the first time, I saw Muslims as people of faith, not hate. I had been so quick to generalize that I had never taken the chance to see them through any eyes but those tainted with judgment.
I left all of these events wanting more. I have so much to learn. And the know-it-all in me wants learn it all now. Some things can only be learned with experience. But why not jump-start that learning by actively pursuing those experiences?
The uncomfortable was well worth it. I hope I never get to a place where things are comfortable. Because that's when I stop learning. And that’s just boring. So bring on the awkward.

quotes, anyone?

I’m a quote person. I’m just fascinated by what other people have to say. Maybe that makes me a people person. Regardless, I was in intrigued by a quote I recently read by J. Ferrante.
“Insight into everyday behavior comes from contrast. When people are exposed to different ways of thinking and behaving, they learn not only about another way of life, but they gain important insights about their own ways.”
I remember the first time I was truly exposed to a different way of thinking. It was July 31, 2004. I had just retrieved by bags and was pulling out of the Cape Town International airport. I was maybe the closest I’ve even been to a heart attack. We were making a left turn on a red stoplight. I let out a squeal and braced myself for the impact however when I opened my eyes, we were just fine. Our driver and some “veterans” on the team laughed. I was made aware that they drive on the wrong side of the road in Africa.
Wait. The wrong side? No, just the different side.
It’s amazing how quick we are to deem our way the “right” way. But what’s even more amazing is when we discover our way isn’t the only way. That sudden epiphany that Wow, they do it differently and it works too is an invaluable lesson that is often learned by exposure to contrast.
So, how do we add contrast to our lives? Look around.
Diversity has been a hot topic on campus recently. Our university is purposely striving for contrast. Differing views cultivate discussion. When we listen to what others have to say, we learn a little bit more about humanity. Again, maybe that’s why I love quotes.
Last week I was sitting on Cougar Walk struggling to focus on “The Xenophobe’s Guide to the Americans” and found myself watching the swarm of students pass by. I noticed, excuse the cliché, a rainbow of students. I heard some sort of Mandarin language. I listened to some black students talk about what seemed like an exciting BSA meeting from the night before. And next to me sat my fascinating friend from the Middle East and my spunky Chicago native roommate who I still cannot understand at times due to her thick Mid-Western twang.
So where is your contrast?
We don’t have to travel far to find others from different backgrounds and different opinions. I encourage you this week to take some time and chat with someone different than you. Find out why they do things the way they do. You’ll be surprised, you might just become a quotes person, too.