Malawian Spirit

The Malawian spirit. It is resilient and positive. I will illustrate, but first a disclaimer.

You probably know that when most missionaries move to a new culture, there is a "romance" period. For us, the time of year (rain, mud, and bugs), combined with certain events that occurred immediately after we arrived, denied us that infatuation. Many of you have read the blogs that I first wrote and you know what I'm saying. If I were transparently honest with you, I would tell you that I arrived in Malawi carrying within me the deepest wound of my life. The pain caused my soul to grow dark, combative and restless. That was a setup for difficulty.

Our first thoughts about the people and the culture were less than positive. We saw jealousy, envy, clutching, greed, refusing to let people climb out of their class, and more. It seemed they did not want us here.  We questioned many things, right down to the meaning of life. 

We prayed a lot and others prayed for us when we couldn't. Light began to glow from the very people we felt rejection: Malawians.

"Madam, my baby died and I know this man killed her." 

"You do? Will you do anything?"

"No, madam. That is God's plan. It is my plan to forgive. I will chat with him as my friend."

A man and woman gave Jamie a ride up the hill after work. 

"How are you, doctor?" they asked.

"Tired, and glad it's Thursday night," he replied.

"We are, too."

"But we must thank God," said the woman. "We have our business jobs, but today there were men digging holes all day. We must thank God for our good jobs."

A woman's husband stole her money and abused her. I said to her, "I'm so sorry for what you've been through!"

Her response? "It's okay, Madam. I must thank God. I have a house, healthy children, and a job."

When I told a Malawian lady the troubles we were having finishing some of our projects, the obstacles seemed to be insurmountable to us at the time. Not to her. She replied confidently, "But you will finish. It will not be long now. You will get it done." I stared at her, realizing that her life is harder than mine, and my struggles to complete a construction project insignificant.

According to the World Bank, Malawi is currently the poorest country in the world, with half the population below the national poverty line. Life expectancy at birth is age 55. To say life is difficult in Malawi paints too small a picture. Yet we see hope, faith, and courage. "It is the will of God," they say and leave it with Him. It is not hopeless; it is acceptance.

During the two years that we've been here, I have fought for respect, my rights, against things that make no sense. Fighting. Striving. Having every advantage the world has to offer but living without peace. God brought me to a land that is in vibrant contrast to all I know to show me that there is peace that truly passes understanding. That it is possible to have faith even when I don't have the answers. There is hope.

All through these gracious and gentle Malawian people. God bless them.

Expectations

Why did we come to Africa as missionaries?

Was it for personal gain?

Was it to make a name for ourselves?

For me, was it the times when I was little that my dad returned from his business trips to South 

Korea, bringing beautiful traditional clothing, elegant dolls, an exotic smelling hard (stone?) chess set, and stories of wonderfully kind people?

Was it the mission stories he read to us weekly for years when I was young?

All I know is that was in my heart most of my life.

For Jamie, it was a mission trip with Pathfinders when he was in ninth grade. He found his path in missions.

So we came. We’re here, and it’s not at all what we expected.

We expected a lower standard of living, and it is.

We expected big fat bugs and skinny muddy roads, and there are.

We expected tropical fruits and exotic birds, and they abound.

We expected daily tasks to take more time, and they do.

We expected to meet very poor people and barely clad children, and we have.

I expected to make deep friendships with the nationals, and we haven’t.

I expected to join a united group of missionaries, and was disappointed.

I expected to be wise enough to know how to help when asked, but I don’t.

I expected to transition smoothly, because this is what we’ve always wanted, right?

I expected to be the person who easily forgives, who is always gracious, always focuses on our purpose, and stays close to the Lord. That is who a missionary is, isn’t it?

Truthfully, I almost always feel lonely. Doesn’t that mean I’m a failure?

As I write this there is the sound of desperate wailing in the street. My heart feels a deep sadness as I listen to their pain. How often these dear people must lay a loved one to rest! The pastor in church last week said, “There is not one of us here who has not lost a loved one.” Not one!

Then I realize that I’m lonely, empty, hurting, floundering, lost, and discouraged because my expectations were all about me. All my striving and fighting. All my hopes and fears. And that is not why I’m here.

It’s not about me. Not being a missionary. Not life.

Time to change my expectations.