It's Complicated, Part 1
I've been struggling to articulate something about the companion relationship we have between Shepherd of the Valley and Tungamalenga Parish, between people from Minnesota and Tanzania. Crossing cultures to do ministry together is deeply rewarding and also deeply complicated.
At the heart of our partnership are the relationships that develop between the people who travel from a developed country to a developing country, between people of means and people who live in poverty, between people who are unsure of how they will fare in rustic living conditions and people who offer gracious, sacrificial hospitality to strangers. At the heart of this partnership is the experience of overcoming all the cultural boundaries and challenges and differences, and coming to a place where our common faith in Jesus connects us all, across the barriers of language, culture, finances, expectations, and experiences.
I don't have the words to adequately describe for you the impact the Tanzanian experience has on a Minnesota traveler. We go, we see, we hear, we meet, we experience, and our lives are changed forever. It's that simple, and it's that hard to explain or describe. It's a beautiful thing.
When we walk together, bega kwa bega or shoulder to shoulder, we recognize that we have many things in common. We all need food, clothing, shelter, health care. We all aspire to education, self reliance, a better life. And we all have dreams for our children, that they may in various ways have a more abundant life than our own.
The relationships that develop when Minnesota travelers meet Tanzanian parishioners can take many forms:
A Minnesota nurse watches a Tanzanian doctor tirelessly diagnose and treat patient after patient with just a few medical tools -- and a lot of knowledge -- absent medical equipment that would be considered standard in any US hospital. The nurse comes away with a huge amount of respect for the skill, compassion, and long working hours of the doctor.
A Minnesota pastor imagines what her ministry would be like if she served 20 village congregations, managed as many lay evangelists, heard cry after cry for help and had few resources to share with those in need, and couldn't count on her own salary being paid on a regular basis -- she comes away with awe and respect for her Tanzanian colleagues and a wish to help them somehow, make their lives easier in some small way.
A Minnesota family man engages a Tanzanian high school graduate in conversation while riding the bus from one village to the next, learns that she is recovering from malaria, aspires to further study but has no funds to pay tuition. He thinks of his own children and the opportunities he provides for them, and thinks there should be a way to provide similar opportunities for this bright young woman.
The relationships we build and the stories we share with our Tanzanian partners help us understand how unequally resources in our world have been distributed. They help us understand what an abundance we Americans have. These stories and relationships touch our hearts and prompt us to be more generous. This is a very good thing.
The complicated part is, just how do we respond to the heartbreaking need we encounter? In Part Two, we'll look at the various ways we have responded in the past as individuals and as a congregation.
At the heart of our partnership are the relationships that develop between the people who travel from a developed country to a developing country, between people of means and people who live in poverty, between people who are unsure of how they will fare in rustic living conditions and people who offer gracious, sacrificial hospitality to strangers. At the heart of this partnership is the experience of overcoming all the cultural boundaries and challenges and differences, and coming to a place where our common faith in Jesus connects us all, across the barriers of language, culture, finances, expectations, and experiences.
I don't have the words to adequately describe for you the impact the Tanzanian experience has on a Minnesota traveler. We go, we see, we hear, we meet, we experience, and our lives are changed forever. It's that simple, and it's that hard to explain or describe. It's a beautiful thing.
When we walk together, bega kwa bega or shoulder to shoulder, we recognize that we have many things in common. We all need food, clothing, shelter, health care. We all aspire to education, self reliance, a better life. And we all have dreams for our children, that they may in various ways have a more abundant life than our own.
The relationships that develop when Minnesota travelers meet Tanzanian parishioners can take many forms:
A Minnesota nurse watches a Tanzanian doctor tirelessly diagnose and treat patient after patient with just a few medical tools -- and a lot of knowledge -- absent medical equipment that would be considered standard in any US hospital. The nurse comes away with a huge amount of respect for the skill, compassion, and long working hours of the doctor.
A Minnesota pastor imagines what her ministry would be like if she served 20 village congregations, managed as many lay evangelists, heard cry after cry for help and had few resources to share with those in need, and couldn't count on her own salary being paid on a regular basis -- she comes away with awe and respect for her Tanzanian colleagues and a wish to help them somehow, make their lives easier in some small way.
A Minnesota family man engages a Tanzanian high school graduate in conversation while riding the bus from one village to the next, learns that she is recovering from malaria, aspires to further study but has no funds to pay tuition. He thinks of his own children and the opportunities he provides for them, and thinks there should be a way to provide similar opportunities for this bright young woman.
The relationships we build and the stories we share with our Tanzanian partners help us understand how unequally resources in our world have been distributed. They help us understand what an abundance we Americans have. These stories and relationships touch our hearts and prompt us to be more generous. This is a very good thing.
The complicated part is, just how do we respond to the heartbreaking need we encounter? In Part Two, we'll look at the various ways we have responded in the past as individuals and as a congregation.
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