But the people became impatient on the way

The lectionary this week includes passages from Numbers, 1 Corinthians, and John. The passages revolve around the story of the poisonous serpents among the Israelites in the desert being a punishment for disobedience, and the Israelites being saved when they look the bronze serpent that God tells Moses to make. It doesn’t always happen with lectionary readings, but this time around all the passages work together and build on the same theme and story. It has made for great devotional reading this week.

But each time I begin my reading online, the text starts with the Old Testament reading. And this is what I see.

Numbers 21:4b-9
21:4b but the people became impatient on the way.

They were impatient with being stuck in the wilderness. First they say “there is no food and water” but then they say “and we detest this miserable food.” They are impatient with struggle, for the basic needs. But they are impatient even with what they do get, because it’s boring and bland and old

This seems to sum up much of life. 

I feel this way often enough. The journey through life is long, and at times consists of working through one routine after the other. Where is the success? Where is the glory? Where is the time to sip mojitos on the beach? And even when I’m not being that materialistic, where is the clear sign of God that the path I’m on isn’t just mindless wandering in the desert? Where is the intervention to prevent struggle rather than just barely bailing me out? If you can make food fall from the sky, O Lord, why can’t you at least vary the menu?

I don’t think God sends poisonous serpents among us every time we complain. But perhaps the poison is there in our hearts already. If I’m complaining and impatient, I am not able to enjoy what I do have. I am not recognizing the blessings I have received. And I’m annoying everyone else around me in the process, poisoning their own day and our relationships

Part of the New Testament reading for the week, 1 Corinthians 1:18 Says “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” The ongoing tense, “being saved,” fascinates me. Looking to the cross, it is the power of God, and I am being saved. An ongoing thing. Some days I feel it more than others. And some days, I pray for patience.

In fact I do that so much, I’m starting to get impatient with it.

Love Does

I recently read a book called Love Does by Bob Goff. It is a collection of stories from his life, each told to teach a lesson about life, God, being Christian, Jesus, and so on. Overall it is pretty good, well written, and inspiring. It was hard to relate to some of the stories, but clearly the author "oozes" and "leaks" passion, love, and Christ.

One trajectory of the book is telling about his desire to make the world a better place, and how he is using his training as a lawyer to do so. He told a bit about his work in Uganda, doing lawyer stuff to get a bunch of kids released from prison. This story stuck with me. Prisons are on my mind a lot lately, because of the chaplains I am working with here in Malawi. I had mixed feelings about the story. On the one hand, clearly the work he and his fellow lawyers did was positive, helping people who were clearly in need of help, working within the existing legal system. On the other hand, while I do not know Goff at all, the story does smack some of "white savior complex," and I strive hard to avoid being "the one in comes in and does for others." I strive to work with, to build up from within, rather than from without.

Goff mentions that they work to enforce the laws on the books in various countries, in regards to children rights, trafficking, slavery, etc. The problem in Uganda was that the civil war had rendered certain areas unreachable. Kids in prison hadn't had their cases heard or processed because there were no lawyers or judges in the area. So Goff went in with lawyer friends, did all the paper work, and convinced a Ugandan judge to travel to the area to hear the cases. It worked. All but two of the kids were released!

But I couldn't help but think of another "well wisher" I know, who comes to Malawi regularly and helps in the prison setting. They work with the Church of Central Africa Presbyterian (CCAP, our partner) chaplains, they visit prions, and they help by giving money and physical aid. Both Goff and this other family spend time with prisoners, listening, comforting, praying, bringing hope. I'm a big fan of that, since as a chaplain that's mostly what I do. But by handing out money, they manage to feed and cloth some people for now, but make no change in the system. The systems in Malawi largely rely on outside well wishers (mostly white people) to come in, give money, and keep the system afloat. In this way this visiting family is successfully keeping the broken and corrupt system in place.

Because both Goff and this other family fly in, do, and fly out, at first they felt similar to me. But as I pondered it further, I realize there's a big difference. Goff may not have fixed the system, but he showed how it can work: care, volunteer, do your job, enforce the laws, and so on. And the love and care he and his fellow lawyers brought with them, I think clearly had a large impact beyond just the legal skills they brought to bear. He made a difference in those prisons that lasted: one of them was empty! (He even stole the door!) This other family, though, is showing how the system doesn't work: the inmates will be hungry tomorrow when no one brings in foreign aid to feed them, they have not had cases heard, they have not had the laws on the books enforced in their favor. What if instead this family used their money to pressure local lawyers and judges to get to work in the prisons? What if they used their money to send the chaplains to training that would enable them to pressure people in the legal system? What if they used their money to set up farms, so that people could eat permanently?

Sometimes we can't help but come in from the outside. I mean, I'm not Malawian, I never will be, I will always being coming in to help from the outside. But I can do it in a way that is incarnational. Jesus literally walked in Jewish shoes for a mile (or thousand). Jesus had special skills and talents, after all, he created the world from scratch. And he used those at times when he performed miracles. But largely he worked within the existing systems, showing what they should be like, showing where they failed, and pressuring people to make changes. Maybe he's not the best example, since he did get killed for his efforts. But then again, maybe that's what Love Does: comes in, risks, gets dirty, and shows what change can look like.

How we talk about Cancer

This is not a post about how I haven't posted in forever. Or about wondering if there's anyone still listening to this thing. Although if there was dust on the internet there'd be a lot sitting on this site for sure!

I just read a news article about a scholarship being made to honor a Womanist Theologian who recently died. I'm being vague because I'm not interested in slamming that article in any way. But they said something in there that bothered me. When avoiding saying that she died, they said "she succumbed to leukemia."

I do get worked up sometimes about euphemisms regarding death. Maybe it is because I am a chaplain, often helping people work through their grief, but using words that avoid saying straight out what someone is suffering from annoys me. I have read other things debating how we talk about cancer. People talk a lot about "the fight against cancer." Like I can punch it in the nose and knock it out. This can be empowering, but the downside is, when someone "loses" the fight, it makes them, well, a loser. Weak. Failed, somehow.

This time, someone "succumbed" to cancer. So I guess people are learning not to say she lost the fight, but is succumbing any different?

 Going to our good friend Merriam-Webster, we can learn that succumb may mean:

1 : to yield to superior strength or force or overpowering appeal or desire

2 : to be brought to an end (such as death) by the effect of destructive or disruptive forces 

 For definition #1 it gives the example of "succumb to temptation." This definitely is a weakness, to succumb. It means the other force was stronger, that I failed somehow to overcome, that I lacked strength. Is this what it means to die of cancer? That I was weak? I failed?

  

Spoiler alert: we all die. It stinks, I know, but it is true. Might be cancer, might be a bus, might be heart weakening at the age of 142, but something will eventually result in your death. And, perhaps even worse, the death of those you love. If that means you are weak, then we are all weak together, and there isn't really any point in making it look like one person failed more than another in their quest to live forever.

Why not just say "She died from leukemia"? Or if you like making the disease the fault, "leukemia killed her." Or if you need another person to blame, "the doctors failed to come up with a cure because of research budget cuts so blame the president for her death." Or whatever you feel like. But be direct, and unless she died because she drank a big cup of leukemia and then ate a sandwich of weakness, do not say things that make it sound like her fault. Cause you might be next, anyways, and how would you like to be remembered? As weak and succumbing? Or as a human who led a good life?