Fall in Love
A little over a year ago, I had the opportunity to go to Haiti with my micro-church for a missions training program. We spent a week living among Haitians, learning about how they live, and growing in our understanding of Biblical justice. As you might imagine, the experience was highly transformative and impactful. Prior to the trip, my nervous roommate and I processed our expectations for the trip. She voiced a concern that the trip would be exceedingly difficult, and, though she knew that we were not going for a vacation, she feared that there would be little to enjoy. To give encouragement to my roommate, I offered her some “wisdom” that I had gained in my VERY limited experience of traveling abroad. My advice? Think of the trip like going on a date.
Yup. A date.
Your job, I counseled, is to get to know the Haitian people, see the ways the beauty of God is reflected in them, and fall in love. Just like on a date.
In my shallow insight, I thought I had given sage advice. Once I was stateside again, I was less confident. Though, yes, we had encountered great beauty and developed deep affection, admiration, and respect for our Haitian brothers and sisters, we had also witnessed profound pain and injustice. I foolishly believed that I could see the beauty of Haiti on my own accord. Just look for the good things, right? I didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be to see past the poverty and chaos. Streets, lined by crumbling buildings, were overcrowded and poorly maintained. Wandering children were everywhere and made you wonder how many of them had parents. Gunshots in the early morning reminded me that the political infrastructure is corrupt and unstable. The deforested mountains were an ashy grey instead of a rich, deep green. The experience was grueling. It did not exactly feel like a date.
I have often chastised myself for giving such misleading counsel. What made me think that going overseas to impoverished countries could possibly be like a date?! I have since apologized to my roommate while still carrying residual guilt for my naiveté. Recently, however, I was given a reprieve from my self-contempt.
One of my favorite podcasts is called Code Switch, which seeks to unpack issues of race, culture, and identity in the U.S. In a recent episode, hosts Gene Demby and Shereen Marisol Meraji interview Brent Blair, an associate professor of theater practice and voice from the University of Southern California to discuss accents and what it means to have an “American” accent. He offered many insights into the evolution of accents across various regions of the U.S., but it wasn’t until he reached his closing thought that I nearly slammed the brakes of my car in serendipitous shock. Speaking on accent stereotyping, Blair comments,
“Unfortunately, you know, we live in a world of binaries. We need simple things until we fall in love. And the moment you fall in love with somebody with red hair, for example, suddenly, every single person with red hair looks different… So for me, when we’re accent stereotyping, it just means we haven’t fallen in love enough with that community to understand its diversity and its complexity.”
I was dumbfounded that a professor of a major university could make such a sentimental remark on crossing cultures! And one that affirmed an idea I had dismissed as foolish and naïve! Is it possible that there is wisdom and dignity in falling in love with a people? Upon further reflection, it would seem so. Do we not mostly highly esteem those we love? Those we know intimately? Those whom we seek to understand their diversity and complexity? Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised. Scripture refers to the Church as the Bride of Christ. Who better loves, respects, sees the beauty and potential of, and honors the dignity of the Church than Jesus? It is His consummate, agape love for His Bride on which the foundation of my faith rests. It is God who delights in His creation and sings over us! No, instead I should be slow to forget that I am suspended within the most romantic of narratives, a devoted Groom who sacrifices His life for the redemption of His Bride.
I’m not sure that I would give the exact same advice as I gave my roommate before our trip to Haiti, but I think a hunger to witness the beauty and dignity of a people dearly loved by our Creator should inform our posture as we enter a new culture. We must also be humble enough to include Jesus in our process. On my own, I could not see past what was in front of me in Haiti: poverty, corruption, instability, and marginalization. But once I asked Jesus to help me see what He sees, my eyes were opened. On our third day in Bon Repo, we were not given any work to do, and therefore, we did not have the means to purchase food for dinner that night. Our Haitian guides invited us eat with their families. Some on our team, however, had reservations about accepting their offer. They felt that we should not accept because we needed to fast in order to remember the poor and stand in solidarity. Others felt that it would be rude to turn down the generosity of our hosts. As we debated, our hosts repeatedly reassured us that we would not be imposing by accepting their invitation and encouraged us to eat with their families. In the midst of this debate, I sat there, mostly silent, too afraid to make my opinion known. I felt my heart and mind warring against each other. On one hand, I understood the importance of accepting gifts extended from hosts, as a way of honoring their dignity as gift-givers who have something to offer. On the other hand, I did not want to challenge the rules that would guide me to abstain from food as part of the program. And what if we were being a burden to our Haitian hosts? I was in the middle of the developing world, infamously the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. I could not bring myself to speak up for either views, however, and I allowed my perspective to yield to the majority.
We debated for awhile, not realizing how rude and inconsiderate we were being in our deliberation, especially given that we were encouraged to accept by the people who understand the culture and context the most: our Haitian hosts! Our arrogance was exposed (as was my unwillingness to challenge majority culture), and we were finally able to move towards repentance. Once we accepted and were taken to our hosts’ homes to eat, we were blown away. A feast was prepared for us! The meal was beautifully presented and plentiful. We ate until our stomachs and souls were filled. I was humbled by the grace of the Haitian people, who provided for us in our need when our arrogant assumptions should exclude us from such generosity. I learned that Haitians are not only gracious, but are also good neighbors, who look out for each other and provide for one another, reflecting the Israelite community of Exodus 16:18, “he would gathered much did not have too much, and he who gathered little did not have too little.” These are a people who still celebrate in uncertainty and instability, smiling and laughing in protest against the enemy’s lie that material wealth equates to Kingdom riches. It was humbling, tasting the grace of God in poul fri and a glass of juice.
Conversely, when we harbor bitterness and hatred towards others, we often oversimplify their character. We ascribe stereotypical attributes to them and refuse to acknowledge their complex nuances. We witnessed this repeatedly in our last election cycle, as rhetoric from opposing parties refused to reflect the full complexity of the individuals who make up that group. Often, we will speak of opponents in absolutes, such as, “They always….” or “You never….” And if we’re honest with ourselves, we’re rarely that consistent. We humans are far more complicated than that.
Friends, will we allow Jesus to open our eyes to find beauty in unexpected places? Will we humble ourselves enough to realize that other cultures have more to offer us than we may be inclined to believe? Will we surrender our prejudices enough to engage with people of other cultures, to celebrate and sing just as our Father celebrates and sings over us? Media headlines remind us that there are still those who assert the supremacy of white culture over all others. In such a time, may our loudest protest be our affirmation and celebration of diversity and multi-ethnicity. May we be courageous enough to challenge racism and bigotry when we see it. And may we be humble enough to keep learning from those who don’t share our skin color, keep pressing into the uncomfortable and unknown, and keep falling in love.
