Living in the Tension

Disclaimer: I wrote this at 1:00 am last night when I couldn't sleep so . . . it all made sense at the time.

I believe it was my dear friend (as I like to think of him), Henri Nouwen, who introduced me to this small phrase. These four words seem to find me out when there are no other words to express the feelings that are deep down inside of me, especially on days like today.

Living in the tension takes all sorts of shapes and forms. Here’s one example: how does an American, although living on fundraised money and without much to spare (relatively speaking), know how to operate faithfully in an environment with extreme need—not only of strangers but also of people close to her heart? Tears haven’t helped much. People can give advice, but it’s a decision they have decided for themselves—a decision that might not easily translate into my (or hers, if we’re keeping this in the third person) situation. Living in this kind of tension takes discernment, wisdom, compassion, and a listening heart.

Another kind of tension that I’m facing daily is one of effectiveness vs. faithfulness. I found a quote from a book I had to read last year called “Mere Discipleship” that helps express this kind of tension.

“And yet ‘effectiveness’, as if a quantitative ‘bottom line’ is the only and sole measure of ‘success’, completely ignores the question of faithfulness: to what are we called, and to whom are we accountable?”

I had one of those days today. I think a lot of people from home, including those who support me, picture a very romantic and adventurous life I live over here. I have my moments—the kind of scenes you may picture for one living in Uganda, working with a wonderful community in a small village called Bungatira, just outside of Gulu town. But the majority of my time is not like the pictures I may show you some day. The camera doesn’t usually come out for the mundane.

I spent nearly three hours trying to send out a newsletter—unsuccessfully. This isn’t even the first time I’ve tried to send it—I’ve had a go at it about two or three other days within the past couple of weeks. Yahoo wouldn’t send and wouldn’t tell me why, I had to export the addresses to gmail. Gmail wouldn’t load properly. It finally loaded. It wouldn’t attach the newsletter. It finally attached. The addresses were in, the message was written, the newsletter was attached. It looked like it was sending. But it didn’t send. This small task took up most of my morning, and part of the afternoon.

In the meantime, I became very overwhelmed with the things that need to be done in the next two weeks and seriously wondered if I was cut out for this position. I looked at the stories that should be written for Partners Worldwide, the business plan for our handcraft group that should be improved on, the ideas we have for moving forward even though they all scare me just a little bit since my “official commitment” is up in June even though there’s plenty to keep me busy for years to come. I responded to emails and drew a sketch for a Norwegian guy that might help weld us some racks for storing our necklaces.

(This is an example of this romantic adventurous life I lead)

Then it was nearly 4:00 and it was time to go to the centre. We were going to meet the kids—they’ve been drawing some pictures for a British couple who will be making their pictures into books for kids in England. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, I was tired, and I was very frustrated with my day of dead ends. I thought I might take my camera along and get some pictures of some of these kids coloring their pictures. I was proud of myself for remembering to charge the batteries at the office since we still have no power at home. Before we walked out the door I realized I didn’t have a memory card with me. Some days those dead ends really add up to a lot of frustration.

So I went to the center. It was raining when we got there and the kids were under the shelter, cheering and waving and very excited to draw their new pictures.

While the kids were filling the small building and crayons and colored pencils were spreading from one corner to another, I stepped outside. There were four kids outside of the building, looking as if this was their normal and accepted place—on the fringe. None of our kids have different clothes than you’d expect from a war-affected village in Northern Uganda but you still notice a definite difference of a relative affluence even in this setting. The kids outside were shy, fearful, and seemed to understand that this was their place—outside. I brought some paper and crayons to them and started drawing with them. I had to encourage them to draw and kept handing them pencils and crayons until they began. A few of the kids really started to enjoy themselves. Until, of course, a boy nearby started to mock their efforts when he saw their attempt at drawing a cow or a goat. It is still so frustrating to not be able to speak or understand Luo. I knew very well that he was mocking them but could do very little to stop it or counter it, since James (the one translating) was busy. My guess is that these kids outside are not in school. I hadn’t seen them before today; they must’ve come because they heard something was happening at the centre.

I sat with these few boys for the remainder of our time. I wondered what their life would be like as they grew up and if this was a simple case of childhood bullying or if this was the beginning of their identity as they would know it for the rest of their lives—living on the fringe. I was suddenly brought back to why I’m here.

Living in the tension. I sometimes have a hard time finding value in the mundane and frustrating aspects of living here and doing the work I do. A simple email or internet glitch can be enough to set you over the edge when it seems as though someone has been playing a trick on you all day (or all month) and things don’t seem to turn out the way they should.

But what if the emails I send and the conference calls I hold and the measuring beads and buying paper in Owino market turn into a small income for some of the parents in this small community? What if these parents use that small income to start another small business so they are no longer caring only for their own children but also for kids who have lost their parents and haven’t gone to school? If we are judging our days by effectiveness, I would not have passed any sort of bar for today. It was a miserable start and seemed to go downhill from there. But if we’re measuring our days by faithfulness, I have a lot more questions to be asking of myself. Who am I faithful and accountable to? For whom am I working? How much worth do I ascribe to successfully sending some emails? What worth is there in sitting with a few kids for an hour and a half while they color a picture, even if we don’t speak the same language?
Here’s another quote from my dear friend Henri,

“Service is an expression of the search for God and not just of the desire to bring about individual or social change”.

In both the mundane and the memory-making moments, I am searching for God. I am asking Him how to live a life of faithfulness and see my days with this framework instead of simply one of effectiveness. I think this is the way we were meant to live.