Monday
May102010
Only Visiting This Planet (Part 3): Jesus-Like Contextualization
Bernie Anderson
This was never intended to be a series. Nevertheless, here is part three. Part 1 and Part 2 were personal illustrations of how incarnational ministry is more about learning than teaching. As I reflect more on this, it occurs to me that this is exactly how Jesus lived his life and conducted his ministry among us.
We are quickly coming to the end of our first term serving in Mongolia. The perspectives I had four years ago are very different from my current ones. The first four years are more for learning than they are for actually doing anything. It’s not that we didn’t “do anything”. This past year has been one of the busiest years of my life. However, all of our actions have been in the context of learning. Learning about people. Learning about culture. Learning about what makes Mongolian students happy or sad or angry or fearful. My intentions were to come and teach (after all, that is what I do. I teach.) But the reality is that I have done way more learning than teaching over these past four years.
This is a good thing. And a fundamental thing. There is an indelible humility attached to being a student. A good student is teachable. A good student asks questions. A good student seeks understanding over the attainment of facts. We spent two years in class learning Mongolian grammar and syntax (not entirely sure I have that down yet). But the lessons continued long after the certificate of completion was received. The only way to learn what it is like to be a student living in the Ulaanbaatar is to live and work among the students in Ulaanbaatar. Time. Listening. Asking questions. And, as much as possible, learning to fell the emotion and the joy and the heartache of those we’re called to serve.
I am proceeding at the risk of sounding heretical. But when Jesus came to earth, he had to learn from us. When he left his place in heaven and was born here as a baby, he had to learn everything we have to learn. He had to learn the language and the culture and human pain. He had to learn to read and write Hebrew (and I thought Mongolian was difficult). He had to learn what it is like to be human. He had to learn our culture, our language, our food, our way of doing things, and our way of thinking. I believe this is clearly Biblical (not heretical). When Luke stated that he “grew in wisdom and stature and favor with God an men”, he is referring to this fact. An aspect of Jesus’ humility is the fact that he learned from us. He had to figure us out from birth to death. That is the real nature of incarnation. This is part of the “He humbled himself” process of Philippians chapter 2. He was a learner. A student. He had to listen, ask questions and seek to understand (more than fact find). Jesus became one of us.
From that perspective one of the greatest compliments that could possibly be paid to me is for one of our students to say, “You’re one of us. You understand us”. It’s not about trying to act 20 years younger than I actually am. That’s not it at all. It’s about learning from them. Being with them. Loving and caring about them enough to sit at their feet, rather than insisting that they sit at mine.
In three weeks we fly to Atlanta. When that plane is airborne over the skies of Ulaanbaatar and I am anticipating a happy reunion with my family and friends, I will also deeply miss those from whom I’ve learned so much.
We are quickly coming to the end of our first term serving in Mongolia. The perspectives I had four years ago are very different from my current ones. The first four years are more for learning than they are for actually doing anything. It’s not that we didn’t “do anything”. This past year has been one of the busiest years of my life. However, all of our actions have been in the context of learning. Learning about people. Learning about culture. Learning about what makes Mongolian students happy or sad or angry or fearful. My intentions were to come and teach (after all, that is what I do. I teach.) But the reality is that I have done way more learning than teaching over these past four years.
This is a good thing. And a fundamental thing. There is an indelible humility attached to being a student. A good student is teachable. A good student asks questions. A good student seeks understanding over the attainment of facts. We spent two years in class learning Mongolian grammar and syntax (not entirely sure I have that down yet). But the lessons continued long after the certificate of completion was received. The only way to learn what it is like to be a student living in the Ulaanbaatar is to live and work among the students in Ulaanbaatar. Time. Listening. Asking questions. And, as much as possible, learning to fell the emotion and the joy and the heartache of those we’re called to serve.
I am proceeding at the risk of sounding heretical. But when Jesus came to earth, he had to learn from us. When he left his place in heaven and was born here as a baby, he had to learn everything we have to learn. He had to learn the language and the culture and human pain. He had to learn to read and write Hebrew (and I thought Mongolian was difficult). He had to learn what it is like to be human. He had to learn our culture, our language, our food, our way of doing things, and our way of thinking. I believe this is clearly Biblical (not heretical). When Luke stated that he “grew in wisdom and stature and favor with God an men”, he is referring to this fact. An aspect of Jesus’ humility is the fact that he learned from us. He had to figure us out from birth to death. That is the real nature of incarnation. This is part of the “He humbled himself” process of Philippians chapter 2. He was a learner. A student. He had to listen, ask questions and seek to understand (more than fact find). Jesus became one of us.
From that perspective one of the greatest compliments that could possibly be paid to me is for one of our students to say, “You’re one of us. You understand us”. It’s not about trying to act 20 years younger than I actually am. That’s not it at all. It’s about learning from them. Being with them. Loving and caring about them enough to sit at their feet, rather than insisting that they sit at mine.
In three weeks we fly to Atlanta. When that plane is airborne over the skies of Ulaanbaatar and I am anticipating a happy reunion with my family and friends, I will also deeply miss those from whom I’ve learned so much.
Reader Comments (1)
I can hardly believe it has been 4 years - seems like just yesterday you were going there.
Maybe there can be no such thing as short term mission - you give your life for the people to whom God sends you - or you wonder what He would have done?
Diane