Fighting a Faith of Obligation - Part One

BEWARE!! Long reflective 2-part post starts below...

The Discovery 

At some point in June I realized there was a shift in my attitude. I felt like I was fighting something spiritually and emotionally. I described this to others as feeling "dry" and certainly with the arrival of a desert summer, I did feel physically dry as well. My heart was not engaged. Not that I ceased to love those around me but the ability to pour into others was significantly reduced. My encounters with others were still sincere and enjoyable but they were less frequent as I felt them to be more draining than before. Not less did this apply to my relationship with Jesus and my faith. Cognizant of this change and not content with it, I felt myself fighting against it not even entirely sure of its name. It wasn't until today that the elusive term finally settled on me: Obligation. I was fighting a faith and a life of obligatory action. 


For the past year I think the statement from Nehemiah 8, "the joy of the LORD is your strength" has been true of my heart. Though not absent of difficulties and challenges, God always encouraged me with little joys each day. These sustained me and filled me with the desire to spend time with him and also to reach out to others. So when the same manner of encouragements ceased to make an impression on my heart in June, I was surprised and not at all satisfied with myself. I did not, and do not, want to read my Bible, pray, or serve others because it what I should do but because it is what I desire to do. I might also add that during this whole time I was consistently aware that I remained under grace, God was still faithful, and if I didn't feel close to Him it certainly wasn't an issue on his side.


Now I know that it's perfectly natural for a Christian to go through high and low spells in their walk of faith. This was certainly not the first time I'd experienced a feeling of dryness or obligation to my faith. In fact for the first couple weeks, I resolved to just continue on my course and wait it out, certain that with time and patience my joy would be restored. Psalm 51:10-12 was a very apt prayer at this time, "Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me."


Well, after a couple weeks of waiting, I came to realize that yes, it is good to wait for the Lord but seeking him out doesn't hurt either. Isaiah 55:6 "Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near." So at the beginning of this past month I embarked on a series of actions to search for God's presence in my life and the eradication of obligation in my relationship with him and with others...



 

Sketching

I am a compulsive fidget-er. One of my early memories consists of me trying to sit on my mother's lap during church and she, understandably, having to move me off because I couldn't sit still. I was dubbed a "wiggle worm" and deservedly so. I've always maintained this is one of the reasons why I took to playing an instrument so readily. My fingers don't like to remain still and music is a great occupation for them... so is doodling. My school papers generally had very neat precise outlined notes on one side and margins filled from top to bottom with patterns, picture fragments, and ornate letters on the other.

I haven't seemed to break this habit and honestly haven't found any real need to. However, since the majority of my Arabic learning is spent listening to recordings of my lessons, I've had to brain-storm some ideas of how to keep my hands occupied (picking at callouses or the dirt under my nails not generally being acceptable or preferable...) During the winter I would knit. As it is now too hot for me to want to handle anything warm, I have taken to sketching. Thankfully I have wonderful blank walls and grateful friends that I can distribute to, so I'm not inundated with my drawings.

 

Matthew 11:28 - 30 in Arabic

 

My List of Nationalities

It's almost impossible to be invisible walking down the street of a smaller Arab city as a foreigner. I may not dress like a tourist yet on most days walking outside I will be greeted with a "Hello, how are you?" and on the rare occasion, it will be followed by a swear word when I don't respond. I think they are just trying out the English they know from watching films, though there could be other motivations as well, but as the local women here do not talk to men or young boys on the street, I follow their example and ignore the comments. To be honest there are days, particularly when I am tired, that I would much rather be left alone and not be quite so visible. However, for the majority of the time I find ways to treat it as amusing. 

For example... I have a list of nationalities. Nine times out of ten they will guess correctly that I am American and start speaking to me in English but every once in a while I will be greeted or asked if I am from someplace else. To be greeted differently is almost refreshing and so I have a little inward smile and laugh... and keep walking. Over four months I've been able to gather quite the interesting list so please enjoy:

1. Enti urduniyye? (Are you Jordanian?) - I got this question within my first month and it surprised me. Yet, there are some Arabs who do have light colored eyes and even hair so I guess it's not impossible.
2. Enti arabiyye? (Are you Arabic?) - This is along the same lines as the first, though a bit more general.
3. Enti turkiyye? (Are you Turkish?) - On the occasion I heard this one I was walking home and a group of young men asked in rapid succession whether I was a foreigner, Arabic, or Turkish. They didn't really give me a chance to respond which was just as well since I wouldn't have anyway.
4. Ajnobiyye! (Foreigner!) - I think I've already explained this one in an earlier post.
5. British - Well, the speaking English part is correct anyway....
6. Bonjour! - Apparently this fellow who greeted me on the street thought I was French.
7. Swiss! - I'm not exactly sure why this pair of young men keep on shouting "Swiss" at my friend and I, but I added it to this list.
8. Russian - This was asked in a village where some of the men had married Russian women. They also asked me if I wanted to get married...

And here are my favorite two because they make absolutely no sense whatsoever:

9. Ya Hindi! - This little boy decided to call me Indian. As far as I know, I don't look a bit like I'm from India but hey, the people there are quite beautiful so I think I'll take it as a compliment.
10. Nee Hao - Why someone decided to greet me in Chinese I will also never know...

Waiting on the Sunrise

Well, it's not often that I find myself posting twice in less than 24 hours but sometimes you just have those moments that are worth reflecting on and writing about. Much as I have used this blog to post about some of the quirks of living as a foreigner in an Arab country, there is also a deeper reality. Wherever I am, I have been called to wait on God, to meet with Him, and let the overflow of those encounters reach into my everyday life.

Lately I have been struck with the importance of listening to God and then obeying. It's one of those simple truths that can be so easily distorted or distracted from. A friend of mine and I have since decided to wake up every Friday morning and, as of today, Monday morning at 4 a.m. to devote some time to prayer and listening. Odd and crazy as it may be, there is something special about getting up before the dawn and turning my heart, mind, and soul towards my Creator. 

This morning I felt especially refreshed and filled with joy after a middle of the night conversation and fellowship with my church community group in the States. We signed off just after 4 a.m. with the calls to prayer echoing from the mosques over the howls and yelping of wild dogs. My heart poured out with psalms, thanksgiving, joy, and prayers of blessing over my community group. Then I quieted myself and began to listen.


First, I felt led to turn off my light, pull back the curtain, and gaze at the beauty of the full moon shedding its light in the predawn darkness of the western sky. 

Then I went to a different window and looked to the east where the sky was just becoming rosy. The words that God gave me in my heart said: Do you see this beauty that I have created? Beautiful as they both are, the hearts of people, your heart, is more precious to me." (Matthew 5:26)

I then went up to the roof to sit still and just watch the sky change colors before me, each hue shifting and turning more brilliant than before. As I watched, I could feel myself becoming a little impatient (I was getting a little hungry and cold) but I still felt compelled to wait. 

When the sun came it was sudden and gloriously radiant. I realized that I had just witnessed the perfect metaphor (Hosea 6:3). God's coming seems slow but with each transformation of the heart the sky becomes brighter and more colorful, until He comes with the fullness of His light. So beautiful...

 

Ajnabiyye!

I would like to think that today I discovered the Arab equivalent of "Moo Cow." 

For those of you who have not experienced Moo Cow, let me explain: I was introduced to Moo Cow on a college band tour. We were traveling through Kansas at the time and suddenly I started hearing people behind me on the bus shouting "I claim those cows!" or perhaps later "I drown your cows!" Essentially when the landscape doesn't change for hours (as is the case in Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska, etc.), you start hunting for something that isn't the same. In this case, cow herds. The first person who sees them, claims them for one point. By the same token, the same person who sees a body of water can then drown the others' cows by one point. 

Today as I was walking to my language lesson, I saw two boys on the other side of the street playing. As soon as they saw me one of them started shouting, "Ajnabiyye! Ajnabiyye!" ("Foreigner! Foreigner!"). Usually this is followed by the persistent, "Hello! Hello! How are you?" However, for some reason, he kept on repeating the "Ajnabiyye!" to his friend. I'd like to think that somehow by spotting me, I managed to give him a point in an Arabic version of Moo Cow or perhaps it should be called "Find the Foreigner". This is a much better thought than the metaphor of a bird giving a warning call when a stranger enters their territory.


However, I do hesitate to think of what the equivalent to "drowning cows" would be in this "Find the Foreigner" version of the game... maybe "I send your ajnabiyye away in a taxi"??

The gerbil wheel

After biking five days a week to work and back for over a year, it's not that surprising that I've felt the lack of exercise. Actually it's a little surprising that I haven't felt it earlier. True, I do walk almost everywhere in this city. (There are numerous visits with friends, lessons, and necessary food items to buy that compel me to leave my comfortable flat on a daily basis.) However, my sleep at night, or the lack thereof, has been letting me know that walking isn't quite enough to expend my energy.

Another fact: My room is very large. I haven't had a room this large to myself since... well, since I lived in this country last. Even then, half of the room was overtaken by a ginormous bed. 

You can probably see where this is leading but let me explain a couple more things: Running outside isn't really an option here. In my three months here I've only seen one man running outside for exercise and certainly no women. With my clearly foreigner appearance, I don't have the desire to attract any more attention than I already do. I have also seriously considered joining one of the women's gyms (there are at least two) but somehow it never became a top priority.


Which then leads me to my final solution: I run figure 8's in my room every morning.

I always pitied the gerbil frenetically running in it's little wheel, but now I think perhaps it isn't so bad. I put on some music (Adele, Florence & the Machine, Coldplay, Gungor, or whatever else strikes my fancy) and for the next 5-6 songs I am quite content to run back and forth in a figure 8 pattern. Oddly enough I feel a lot freer running in my room than I think I would elsewhere, chiefly because I can run barefoot. Clomping along in shoes, my toes getting all red from confinement, just isn't as appealing. Best of all, it works. Though I still tend to wake up a few times at night (the curse of an overactive brain), I feel a whole lot better rested in the morning.

An American Overseas

Tonight I felt like I was part of an old movie -- one of those ones where the American lives a ridiculously idyllic life overseas. This evening after my language lesson, I cooked some smoked salmon, baked a sweet potato, fried slices of eggplant, and topped them all with mushrooms. 'Twas one of the best dinners I've made here yet. After the meal, I sat contentedly with the open window to my left and the sound of boys playing soccer in the warm darkness outside. Then on goes the classic big band swing and I clean the kitchen with a smile to In The Mood and Ella Fitzgerald singing It Don't Mean A Thing.

Not all life here is idyllic -- in fact most of the time it's just normal, if maybe a bit more tiring with all the cultural adjustments to make. However, occasionally there are those moments when I just have to smile and enjoy. Some of my favorite days here are "Bread Days", the days I need to visit the bakery to pick up fresh bread. I hand the coin to the shop clerk who prints off a receipt with the amount, not even needing to ask what I want anymore. He has seen me enough times to know by now. Then I head to the back of the bakery and hand my receipt to another employee who weighs out the bread and hands it to me in a bag. I think he must do this every day because he is usually singing an Arabic pop song to himself, with only a cursory glance at the receipt, and hardly a look to the customer. I walk back home, swinging the bread bag in anticipation, where inside I can then enjoy a piece of fresh bread, still warm from the bakery. 


Sometimes it can be the sight of a new wildflower sprouting from the desert, or perhaps a successful conversation held almost entirely in Arabic, that will bring an unexpected smile. I'm never quite sure when they'll happen but it's nice to know that those contented moments can still find me.