According to the cliché, there are no such things as stupid questions. Don’t you believe it. Asking the right question is central to the art of being educated. In the scientific process, we call it forming a good hypothesis. Since there are such things as, “good questions”, we need an adjective to describe the other (not so good) questions. If “stupid” is not acceptable, we need to find a politically correct synonym.
In recent personal trials, two questions stand out: “God, why?” and, “Where are you, God?” They seem related, almost restatements of the same idea, originating from a common place in the human soul. Yet I maintain that one question is “good” and the other one “stupid”.
Only from the human side are the questions similar; from the divine side they are different as night and day. One usually can be answered with an intelligible response, the other requires a lengthy preparation before we could comprehend. As we grow in our relationship with the Father, we should have the intuition to ask the type of question that He would be pleased to answer directly. God may answer the “why” question, but the answer is often interpreted as jibberish.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Myth Busting
The Christian myth states: The safest place to be is in the center of God’s will.
The first problem with that philosophy is that personal experience seems to prove it wrong. Unsafe things can and do happen to people who are doing the right thing. We ought not assume, whenever something unsafe has occurred, that those damaged were somehow not acting within the will of God.
The second problem is that scripture does not support it. Those who are in God’s will are promised both peace of heart and divine attention; He cares for us. Yet safety is mentioned as something that unjust men trust in and enjoy as often as something that is provided by God to the faithful (IThes 5:3, Ez 39:6, Is 30:2-3, Job 21:9). The complaint is lodged that the righteous do NOT enjoy safety, and that the unjust do (Job 5:4, Job 21:9, Ps 37, Ps 73). God promises to give safety at some time in the future (sometimes implying that the present time will be dangerous). (Ps 12:5). In other verses, safety is to be provided only at the end of the age. (Jer 32:37, Jer 33:16, Hos 2:18) All of this does not add up to a scriptural promise of day to day safety on the condition that we are doing His will.
“’Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
C.S. Lewis The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
Being in the will of God isn’t safe. But it is right and good. And God is able to work the often unsafe consequences out for the good.
The first problem with that philosophy is that personal experience seems to prove it wrong. Unsafe things can and do happen to people who are doing the right thing. We ought not assume, whenever something unsafe has occurred, that those damaged were somehow not acting within the will of God.
The second problem is that scripture does not support it. Those who are in God’s will are promised both peace of heart and divine attention; He cares for us. Yet safety is mentioned as something that unjust men trust in and enjoy as often as something that is provided by God to the faithful (IThes 5:3, Ez 39:6, Is 30:2-3, Job 21:9). The complaint is lodged that the righteous do NOT enjoy safety, and that the unjust do (Job 5:4, Job 21:9, Ps 37, Ps 73). God promises to give safety at some time in the future (sometimes implying that the present time will be dangerous). (Ps 12:5). In other verses, safety is to be provided only at the end of the age. (Jer 32:37, Jer 33:16, Hos 2:18) All of this does not add up to a scriptural promise of day to day safety on the condition that we are doing His will.
“’Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
C.S. Lewis The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
Being in the will of God isn’t safe. But it is right and good. And God is able to work the often unsafe consequences out for the good.
Friday, October 10, 2008
October08
October is a month of decreasing light in Afghanistan, just as in the USA. Summer is undeniably over and there are hints of an approaching winter. Hints like electrical power available only for a few hours at a time (spoiling food, because the window sills aren't yet cold enough to refrigerate). Hints like the rats moving in off the coldening streets (we put traps out and have been catching two or three per day in our kitchen).
There was a 10 day fall break in courses (corresponding to the end of Ramadan). In spite of the heavy (and impolite) guard, we have been blessed with many guests. Local government officials crashed our gate on a particularly busy day, thinking that we were running an undercover guest house (and intending to charge us extra taxes). We invited them in for tea, but they declined - seeing the group of children playing with our new dog (Puppy Jaan) in the garden, and a small family reunion going on in our pia khana (side houses that we now sub lease to a dear single lady friend - the lawyer we mentioned).
The Taliban surround the city, but life goes on within. Please pray for us.
There was a 10 day fall break in courses (corresponding to the end of Ramadan). In spite of the heavy (and impolite) guard, we have been blessed with many guests. Local government officials crashed our gate on a particularly busy day, thinking that we were running an undercover guest house (and intending to charge us extra taxes). We invited them in for tea, but they declined - seeing the group of children playing with our new dog (Puppy Jaan) in the garden, and a small family reunion going on in our pia khana (side houses that we now sub lease to a dear single lady friend - the lawyer we mentioned).
The Taliban surround the city, but life goes on within. Please pray for us.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Some Pressure
The myth states that some have a gift for foreign languages and can pick them up without much effort. The rest of us (most of the population) are destined to never be able to become fluent in a second language.
According to the myth, I must be one of those few gifted to learn languages, since I became fluent in Spanish as an adult and am threatening to do so with Dari.
Yet the one thing that puts pressure on our young marriage, more than finances, more than the Taliban, more than the explosions and threats that are in our neighborhood, is all that time I spend focusing on language acquisition. If I’m so, “gifted” why is the sustained effort so costly? The fact is, I am one of the many who must struggle for thousands of hours with a new language before my brain will function in it, and one of the few who persevere in the struggle.
In Costa Rica, I was able to focus an incredible 15-20 hours per day in functional Spanish (feat that there is no hope of matching in Afghanistan). Inside the University as an economics student in an astounding year and a half, progress was according to the effort.
I can recall, before leaving the US, spending several hours daily learning with Dari materials, and spending some time with Persian speaking people as well. My arrival in Kabul in 2005 happened a month early – so some extra time could be devoted to language learning. For the same reason, I remained in Kabul Christmas 2005 and again summer 2006 and again… and again. There would be no returning to the US for three years. After work I would take tutoring or spend time with friends speaking Dari. By the second year in Kabul, I was able to participate, in a limited fashion, in many Dari conversations. Was this because of an ability to pick up languages without much effort, or because of a dogged perseverance to focus on the task?
Now in our fourth year in country, my wife is entering into the reality that she is in the struggle together with me - the struggle to learn a new language. Again, progress matches the effort.
According to the myth, I must be one of those few gifted to learn languages, since I became fluent in Spanish as an adult and am threatening to do so with Dari.
Yet the one thing that puts pressure on our young marriage, more than finances, more than the Taliban, more than the explosions and threats that are in our neighborhood, is all that time I spend focusing on language acquisition. If I’m so, “gifted” why is the sustained effort so costly? The fact is, I am one of the many who must struggle for thousands of hours with a new language before my brain will function in it, and one of the few who persevere in the struggle.
In Costa Rica, I was able to focus an incredible 15-20 hours per day in functional Spanish (feat that there is no hope of matching in Afghanistan). Inside the University as an economics student in an astounding year and a half, progress was according to the effort.
I can recall, before leaving the US, spending several hours daily learning with Dari materials, and spending some time with Persian speaking people as well. My arrival in Kabul in 2005 happened a month early – so some extra time could be devoted to language learning. For the same reason, I remained in Kabul Christmas 2005 and again summer 2006 and again… and again. There would be no returning to the US for three years. After work I would take tutoring or spend time with friends speaking Dari. By the second year in Kabul, I was able to participate, in a limited fashion, in many Dari conversations. Was this because of an ability to pick up languages without much effort, or because of a dogged perseverance to focus on the task?
Now in our fourth year in country, my wife is entering into the reality that she is in the struggle together with me - the struggle to learn a new language. Again, progress matches the effort.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Life, Liberty and Pursuit of Holiness
One of the differences between faiths is the idea of personal holiness. This is God’s plan for us – that we be holy just as He is holy.
But the concept of what sin is differs, so there are different ideas of what holiness means. The bible teaches that sin is bound in the heart. We are not adulterers because of what our bodies touch, but rather because of what our hearts desire. We are not murderers because we kill, but rather because, in our hearts, we would like to kill. And this problem of sin in our hearts is uncontrollable – no amount of devout rules keeping can enable us to control the sin that reveals itself in our heart, often in the most embarrassing moments. And our holy God will not put up with it ... forever.
Our destiny, God’s desire for us, is that we be holy - free from sin. Not that we arrive at the point where we meticulously keep a set of spiritual rules and customs, but rather that we arrive at the point where our heart felt desires are in accordance with His will.
But the concept of what sin is differs, so there are different ideas of what holiness means. The bible teaches that sin is bound in the heart. We are not adulterers because of what our bodies touch, but rather because of what our hearts desire. We are not murderers because we kill, but rather because, in our hearts, we would like to kill. And this problem of sin in our hearts is uncontrollable – no amount of devout rules keeping can enable us to control the sin that reveals itself in our heart, often in the most embarrassing moments. And our holy God will not put up with it ... forever.
Our destiny, God’s desire for us, is that we be holy - free from sin. Not that we arrive at the point where we meticulously keep a set of spiritual rules and customs, but rather that we arrive at the point where our heart felt desires are in accordance with His will.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Pre-Fun Fun
There was a certain comfort to the screech as our taxi successfully faced down an oncoming car at slightly more than full speed. It was good to be heading back home from the airport.
My mind drifted back to a few hours before, in the Dubai airport, where Hamroz and I were separated for long hours. Because she was refused a visa on her Tajik passport, she had been forced to transfer to “terminal two” without so much as a chance to get at the luggage - unloaded on the other side of customs. I journeyed, after collecting our luggage at the real terminal, to the “Dubai” side of terminal two; she was sequestered on the “airport” side. After managing to pass half our luggage (Hamroz made a quick friend of a policewoman to pull that off) my third cultural construction gave me another idea.
The terminal two companies that venture planes into Kabul don’t place the typical western cultural value on tickets; they never make you feel like having one gives you a right to travel. So, I waited in line to fly, even though my ticket was for three days in the future. Though they pulled me aside, in the end the wrong-date ticket didn’t matter and I flew. The terminal two disorder worked in my favor, (making me a certifiable third-culture veteran). After seven hours of solitude, in line to board the plane, Hamroz was shocked to see me amble into the back of the same line.
Now, we were together again, routinely risking our lives in the taxi home (far more foreign aid workers have died in Kabul in traffic accidents than have died by intentional violence – it sounds like a pleasant fact until you are traveling). We were soon to be enjoying the smell of our garden, soon to be reassembling furniture taken apart for the move, soon to be receiving guests and coming up to date on the real news of what had been happening in Kabul during the time we were away.
My mind drifted back to a few hours before, in the Dubai airport, where Hamroz and I were separated for long hours. Because she was refused a visa on her Tajik passport, she had been forced to transfer to “terminal two” without so much as a chance to get at the luggage - unloaded on the other side of customs. I journeyed, after collecting our luggage at the real terminal, to the “Dubai” side of terminal two; she was sequestered on the “airport” side. After managing to pass half our luggage (Hamroz made a quick friend of a policewoman to pull that off) my third cultural construction gave me another idea.
The terminal two companies that venture planes into Kabul don’t place the typical western cultural value on tickets; they never make you feel like having one gives you a right to travel. So, I waited in line to fly, even though my ticket was for three days in the future. Though they pulled me aside, in the end the wrong-date ticket didn’t matter and I flew. The terminal two disorder worked in my favor, (making me a certifiable third-culture veteran). After seven hours of solitude, in line to board the plane, Hamroz was shocked to see me amble into the back of the same line.
Now, we were together again, routinely risking our lives in the taxi home (far more foreign aid workers have died in Kabul in traffic accidents than have died by intentional violence – it sounds like a pleasant fact until you are traveling). We were soon to be enjoying the smell of our garden, soon to be reassembling furniture taken apart for the move, soon to be receiving guests and coming up to date on the real news of what had been happening in Kabul during the time we were away.
Previous Blogs
This blog is one in a series of blogs that chronicle pictures and first hand accounts of all the fun we've had in Central Asia over the last several years:
year2inktown.blogspot.com
year3inktown.blogspot.com
iskafghan.blogspot.com
year2inktown.blogspot.com
year3inktown.blogspot.com
iskafghan.blogspot.com
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