He Hears and Acts

When I first got to my city almost 2 years ago, there was one family down the road from my house that was particularly welcoming. They often invited me to sit and talk - even though I had no language - in their restaurant. I fell in love with the grandma and the 11-year-old boy. I saw that I had favor with them and wanted to share the gospel with them. But language limitations and frequent distractions kept me from doing so. Even if I felt I couldn't adequately share with them, I knew I could pray fervently for the family and for the workers at the restaurant. My heart has been especially drawn to pray for the boy and his grandma.

Over the past year or so, I have prayed frequently for the boy and asked others to as well. I prayed that he would be a truth-seeker and that he would grow up to be a man of God. I remember specifically praying that he would come across something in his lessons at school that would cause him to think deeply about the Truth and about God.

Time went on, and I still had few opportunities to share with these people. But recently I had a chance to sit and chat with the boy. I decided to try to steer the conversation so that I could share the gospel with him - now that I can use the language a little. I asked whether his family believed one of the prevalent religions here. He answered, "Yes, but I believe Christianity." After I got over my surprise, I ventured to find out how he learned about Jesus. He told me he saw a painting in one of his textbooks of baby Jesus and Mary. He became curious. Later, one of his cousins told him what he knew of the gospel story.

I decided to share a story that sums up the gospel, shortened for an 11-year-old, just to see how much he understood. The beginning part about the garden he hadn't heard, but when I got to the end, he finished the story for me. When we finished the story, he said, "That's what I believe. I think my family's religion is (insert word I hadn't learned yet) . " I looked up the word I didn't know. My dictionary translates it as, "false, phony, fake."

What an amazing God we serve! He moved me to pray for this boy in specific ways, and he worked through those specific prayers. The boy questioned what he was taught, and God brought him to True conclusions.

Slip Sliding Away

Culture shock can be a confusing experience. I've been here almost 2 years, so i have a few stories. Sometimes I've felt this crushing "I hate this place" feeling in my chest and want to run away or push people off their bikes. Sometimes it's little things that bug me. After such a long time, I've become accustomed to a lot of things. But once in a while, culture shock and fatigue cause me to focus all my discontent and discomfort into hatred of one, small, seemingly meaningless difference in the culture here.

Lately, it's been the floors.

Let me explain.

With the exception of paved roads and areas of concrete, every surface on which people are meant to walk is made with material that becomes extremely slippery when wet. The sidewalks are made of glossy tile. Floors in restaurants, banks, stores, and houses are made of a glossy, marble-looking tile. Stairways are made of the same stuff, and don't have those grooves in them that stop you from slipping. If the floor or your shoe is wet to the slightest degree, you risk slipping and falling - or at the very least jolting your lower back out of alignment.

It's the rainy season here, which means it's rained just about every day for the past 5 months. The sidewalks are always wet. So are the stone walkways in the older areas of town. So are the floors in all the stores, restaurants, banks, schools, and stairways.

When I get impatient with this place, I find myself walking really fast - maybe because I can get a little tense and anxious. The slippery floor and sidewalk thing really gets on my nerves when I'm trying to get somewhere fast. I have a pair of $120 hiking boots that have no traction on these surfaces.

Culture shock can be pretty amusing when you step back and look at it without all the pent up anger and resentment. These days, I hate the very ground I walk on, and daily curse these people for making walking ares so slippery.