"...and You Can't Take It With You..."

The Ulaanbaatar HS co-op recently produced "You Can't Take It With You", written by George Kaufman and Moss Hart. It was a complete family affair, as Jonathan and Cori had significant roles in the performance (Paul Sycamore and Alice Sycamore, respectively) and Renee' and I directed the performance. It ended up being a pretty big deal and went really well! It was a lot of work ... but also a lot of fun. The entire cast did great! Jonathan and Cori were naturals.

Here are a few shots taken at the dress rehearsal. Check back for YouTube links in the near future...

Only Visiting This Planet (Part 3): Jesus-Like Contextualization

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.

Packing

This week was spent getting our old apartment ready for a new family to move in. We are now living in another part of town, temporarily so that our UB team members can move their families. Our things will finally land in an empty apartment in order to be stored for one year while we are on home assignment.

So on four different mornings I would walk or drive over there ... usually via Seoul Street:


Climb the five flights of stairs:


Once there we packed. We cleaned. We boxed. We sorted. We decided. We organized. We piled everything in the corner.


Turned off the lights and left our apartment looking like this:


Lots of memories. This is where our kids have become young adults. We raised our puppies here. We went through culture shock here. We fought with each other and we comforted each other. We prayed together. It's been a good home for us. We will miss these walls even with it's leaky sinks and exploding light bulbs. I pray that the families who follow us there will also make many good memories here.

A Darhan Morning

Today I am in Darhan for what will probably be the last time for quite awhile. Meetings are over and I took a walk this morning. A few early morning worshippers were up at the giant Buddha that's on the hill here. Along with a couple of drunk guys and a dog, jonesing for some breakfast.

Here are the photographic results:

Lessons While Only Visiting this Planet (Part 2)

As our home assignment date approaches ever so quickly, I am finding my self torn. There is a part of me that is ready to leave the battle today. I’m tired. I’m thirsty and sore. More than a little weary. Maybe somewhat bloodied. I know there are personal wounds which have scarred over. However, on some days those scars can still feel fresh and raw. It will be good to step out of the particular warfare we face here, at least for a little while, and find some rest and solace in the familiar (or at least what used to be familiar) and the somewhat comfortable.

On the other hand, we have so enjoyed seeing the grace of God and more importantly have enjoyed seeing His grace in the people given to us to work with - namely our Grain of Wheat staff. Zolo and Onon have been significant blessings to me in recent weeks.

Last week we finalized the purchase of a building located in the 13th District of Ulaanbaatar. This building is going to be the main Community Center for the work of the C&MA in the city of UB. Our team has great plans for this space, including English and music classes, training for leaders in the church and the community, seminars and vocational training, family ministry, counseling and more. We are excited about what God might do through this center.

However, there was one question which most heavily weighed on my mind. What will happen to the Grain of Wheat? This has the been the primary ministry Renee’ and I have been involved with over the past two years. The Student Center and cafe is close to our hearts and through this ministry we want to continue to effectively reach the student population in the city. Currently we are located in a seemingly perfect spot, right in the heart of a heavily populated university district. I frankly had become concerned about our future. It looks as though we are going to have to close the Grain of Wheat for a time this summer while the city works on the road in front of the center, and as it doesn’t make financial sense to pay rent in one center while owning a building which could also easily house the ministry.

I was in a quandary. It makes sense in every way to move the Grain of Wheat to the new building in the 13th district … except for the fact that I wasn’t convinced of the effectiveness of the new location. Would we still get students? Would we have to eventually shut it down? I didn’t know.

After chatting to Zolo and Onon about my concerns, my mind was changed, however. They gave me a great word which brought me back on track. I shared my worries with them (in Mongolian) and Onon looked at me and said (in English):

“Don’t worry. If we are here students will come. But maybe it is also more important that we go to students.”

Duh.
(It’s my blog. I can use trite and juvenile words if I want to.)

They reminded me of two truths which I have based ministry on my whole life. But in my worry about the physical location of the center and what might happen to it, I’d lost sight of stabilizing truth. I needed the Grain of Wheat staff to bring me back again.

1. Jesus said “go” … Onon’s second point is critical. Having a student center or a community center or a church or any other kind of ministry does not exempt us from the “go” factor of the Great Commission. We get it wrong if we think it’s possible to simply “hang up a shingle” and hope to get customers. “Build it and they will come” is a mantra for strange sci-fi baseball fields and not for the Church. Onon and Zolo reminded me of that truth. Again.

2. It’s about our relationships with people, not about our walk-in traffic. “If we are here people will come.” Granted, this could be read as a contradiction. However, I don’t see it as a contradiction at all. Jesus invited those to whom he went “come to me … and I will give you rest.” So there are two sides: a “Gospel going” and a “Gospel coming”. A primary value and strategy of the Grain of Wheat is building intentional relationships. There is power in that. It’s not about a great location. At least not entirely. Location helps … and honestly I now see enormous potential for the location of the new Community Center. But in the end it’s not really about that. It’s really about the kind of eternally meaningful relationships we can and should establish where ever God has placed us.

Zolo and Onon have reminded me that this ministry will continue because it belongs to Jesus. The foundation is right. As we go out and intentionally develop Gospel centered relationships, the Grain of Wheat will flourish, where ever it is located.

I am so glad to be reminded of truth like this again. And not by some great and famous preacher or teacher, but by two not-so-famous but very great friends. As we prepare for home assignment, I am going to miss them both very much indeed.