In the next 30 seconds, a little boy or girl in Africa will die of malaria.[1] Other research tells us that nearly 1 billion people in the world are illiterate[2] and another 1.4 billion can’t get to clean water[3].  So, what would those stuck in poverty have to add to a discussion about education and what could they possibly teach those of us who not only have drinking water flowing from a faucet, but who also sleep free from mosquito nets, with the ability to read ourselves to sleep? Let me pose the question a different way: are there universal methods of education that transcend cultural and socioeconomic lines to the point that we can articulate a core set of principles that may guide educators around the world, thus forming an international set of ideals that blurs the lines of the literate and illiterate and transcends the borders of East and West, North and South?

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Does God get sick of the whole world? At first glance, it seems like indeed there is a link between events in the world and the anthropomorphic description of God getting ill. On one particularly slow Sunday in church (confession here: I do sometimes take notes on the sermon and when the sermon doesn’t lend itself to notetaking, then I still write some things down anyway) and so I began to think to myself, ‘is there really something that makes God sick to the point of actually vomit?’ And, to my surprise, I actually found out that there is a whole bunch of verses on vomiting in the Scriptures. In fact, there are 13 separate occasions in which the act, what we call throwing up—getting seriously ill to the stomach, whatever you’re comfortable with, is not only mentioned, but actually references God on more than one occasion. Which leads me to conclude that yes, God gets sick at times.I won’t recount all 13 passages. They are graphic to say the least, particularly the one in Job 20:15 that has Zophar speaking and talking about the treatment of the poor. Ok…never mind, I will share it and it goes like this:

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This morning I was reading Peter Rollins' book “The Orthodox Heretic”.  In it he writes a parable called “Mansions” in which some disciples and Jesus are sitting around a campfire talking about the future kingdom in heaven.  They talk about the mansions and streets of gold, and how amazing it is.  One by one they all drift off to sleep until there is but one disciple left awake with Jesus.

The disciple asks Jesus a question.  He admits that he doesn’t know much about mansions and in fact has never been in one or seen one.  He asks Jesus if there will be any room in heaven for a simpleton like himself.  Jesus then looked at the man with compassion and answered,

“Don’t worry, tucked away in a tiny corner of heaven, away from all the grand mansions and streets of gold, there is a cramped little stable.  It doesn’t look like much inside or out, but on a clear night you can see the stars shine bright amidst the cracks, and you can feel the warm breeze caress your skin.  In this kingdom, that is where I live, and you would be welcome to live there with me.”

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It’s breaking news everywhere. Haiti, the poorest country in the western hemisphere, shook yesterday as a 7.0 magnitude earthquake struck the tiny island country. An earthquake of this size is devastating regardless of where it strikes. In poverty stricken Haiti, it is of the highest level of trauma. Haiti, comparative in size to the state of Maryland, lacks infrastructure and the means to enable recovery from such a force as this quake. Haiti needed help before the quake and Haiti needs help now.

In 2007, Haiti ranked 43^rd in the world for highest number of people living with HIV/AIDS. The risk of contracting a major infectious disease is high for Haitians due to unclean water. While 80% of Haitians identify themselves as Catholic and 16% as Protestant, nearly half of the 9 million island inhabitants practice voodoo.*

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When I asked my friend Adina to describe Urbana 09 to me recently, she simply said, “It's insane!”

Urbana 09 is happening right now in St. Louis.  Adina said there are 17,000+ college students from around the world in attendance this year. They are discussing topics such as human trafficking, poverty, HIV/AIDS, divisions between peoples, and even environmental degradation affect missions.

One of the key themes of this years Urbana is on incarnational missions. They are taking a close look at the first four chapters of John’s Gospel for a rich understanding of Christ who came and dwelt among us.

Adina is very excited about all that she is learning and taking away with her from this event and she mentioned she is thinking hard about what it looks like to bring Urbana home.

Tonight was commitment night at Urbana. This is the night when the students have the opportunity to publicly commit to an area of mission involvement. That can be anything from committing to pray and learn more about God’s direction for them to committing to joining cross-cultural service anywhere in the world.

These students represent a rising, contagious love for God and for justice. As they make their commitments tonight, finish their college educations and venture into their illuminated path for righteousness, they need encouragement and prayer. For some, they are taking risks to live out bold fiery faith.  

I am excited for Adina. I have seen a joy in that woman that will no doubt bless countless others no matter where she ends up. And to think there are over 17,000 others like her, making courageous life altering decisions tonight excites me.  Like Adina said, “It’s insane!”

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(Durban, South Africa)

At first glance, the Zulu children we met on the bus en route to Ithemba Lethu’s leadership camp were just like any other seventh graders we had ever met. They boarded the bus with tremendous enthusiasm. They were full of life and noise and a certain pre-teen angst. They were excited to be with their friends, armed with bits of junk food, slightly insecure and were chatting about celebrities and rappers. If one didn’t already know that the children were from one of Durban’s poorest townships, that most lived in tin shacks, or that many were being raised by siblings just a few years older than them, it wouldn’t have been immediately obvious that these kids differed from suburban American youth.

As the weekend progressed, we began learning more details about their lives. One child’s parents had just died. Her mother died of AIDS and her father was murdered by human hands. She was now living with an aunt who didn’t want her.  Several of the children were being physically abused on a regular basis. School was not a safe place for the kids because teachers hit them with pipes.

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I was sitting at my kitchen table the other day, looking at an ad for the new film, The Blind Side. It was an engaging graphic, with two people walking away from the viewer across a football field. The one on the right is a huge African-American man, dressed in black and white, almost identical to the small blond woman on his left. Their hands and arms are synchronized, the only difference being the turn of her head and the sun shining on her light hair and white face. Interesting.  

I drove to the mall to see Blind Side because my wife said I could not skewer it without watching it first.  So I did, but went to an early show, so I would not have to pay $12 for a movie I hated. I love the cheaper tickets, except for the fact that it’s too early to pop fresh popcorn, so the teenagers at the snack counter serve the stale stuff popped the day before.  

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Tatyana lives in post communist Moldova, a country still experiencing the aftermath of the cruel regime,  twenty years later. Tatyana is a middle aged woman, although her rough hands and tight wrinkles lining her eyes and round face declare otherwise. Tatyana bears deep scars on the palms of her tiny hands. She always carries with her, kind eyes; the kind of eyes that reveal that she holds within her many layers of experiences and wisdom. Tatyana is a member of the persecuted church. The scars from her hands were caused by smoothing cement barehanded while communist soldiers looked on in mockery. Tatyana and her friends were building a church in 1985. They were given permission by the Soviets to build the church so long as they didn’t use any building equipment.

I had the privilege of being with Tatyana in 2005 on the 20th anniversary of the building of this church. It is a beautiful church. About 200 others were there that day. They were the people who had built that church alongside Tatyana and who bore scars of their own to prove it.

These people were heavily persecuted during this time. They were tortured, separated from loved ones and dispersed to foreign lands. Tatyana remained in Moldova during the heaviest times of persecution. What I saw in Tatyana and in her scars and what I saw in those who had gathered from near and far for the reunion, was not the pain that they had once endured, rather, I witnessed an overwhelming, incredible, indescribable joy.

I asked Tatyana about her regrets later that evening. She told me she had none. I asked her if communism were to re enter Moldova again would she flee. She smiled and told me the most joyful times in her life were also the most painful. She would endure the torture and the pain all over again if it meant bringing her that type of joy.

In my experiences traveling to developing countries and spending time with the oppressed, I have seen this joy despite age, culture and location. I do not seek to glamorize poverty in any way and yet, I cannot help but be intrigued by the fact that the most joyful people I have met are those who have experienced or are experiencing incredible amounts of pain and suffering. 

It’s as if those who have much are less satisfied than those who have little. The empty are filled. The weak are made strong. The poor become rich.  So what happens where joy and pain collide?

Consider John 16:20-22 for a moment.

I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

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