Embracing the Discomfort of Diversity Mark Charles D7 About 7 years ago I attended my first World Christian Gathering on Indigenous Peoples (WCGIP). It was hosted by the Native Hawaiian community on the main island. At that time I was the pastor of the Christian Indian Center in Denver, CO, and we were just beginning to learn about and explore the concept of contextualized worship. This conference was unlike any Christian conference I had ever been to. The delegates were from tribes, peoples and cultures all around the globe. Each evening we would gather, and one group at a time would lead us in worship. At most Christian conferences with such a large and diverse group of participants the emphasis is usually on finding a worship style and format that is most comfortable for everyone. If new songs are introduced or a different language used, then those songs or languages are repeated session after session until everyone has a good level of familiarity and comfort with it. But that was not the case here. Every evening the worship was led by a different tribal group. Each night a different language, different instruments, different styles of dress and different demeanor and dances were used and offered up as worship. No two nights were the same and the overriding feeling was NOT one of comfort. In fact, I found myself frequently feeling uncomfortable, awkward and even out of place. But the longer I reflected on those feeling the more I began to appreciate them. I mean if worship is truly us coming before God, should we not feel awkward, out of place, uncomfortable and even a little fearful? We are weak, imperfect, sinful people coming before the all-powerful and perfect LORD of heaven and earth. This is not a 'comfortable' interaction. I also noticed as the worship sessions passed that I was gaining a larger understanding of God and his character than I normally had. The Maori people, from New Zealand, led us in worship with their 'hakas' which are loud warrior presentations/displays meant to intimidate their enemies. These hakas had been contextualized and now were used to express the might and power of God. The Native Hawaiians led us in hula and taught dances that were created and offered up to God as worship. The Hawaiian islands are incredibly beautiful and the Native Hawaiians have a spirit of peace about them. Their hula is extremely gently and beautiful and is performed by people with grace and poise. The Native Americans then came forward and led us in worship that at times was loud and with pounding drums and at other times was gentle and softly led by the music of a flute. They offered up their worship to the Creator and their music resembled the ever changing vastness of creation; clashing thunder storms, gentle flowing brooks, beautiful soaring birds and pounding herds of buffalo. And on and on it went. Every night was a different look into the vastness of God's character, led by a different tribe from a different culture and in a different language. The longer I allowed myself to soak in this environment, the more I realized how small I had begun to make God. By making my primary concern that of
being comfortable in worship I was diminishing the characteristics of God that I did not understand or that made me uncomfortable. In other words, the smaller I made God, the more comfortable I felt around him. And now, being in an environment that was not comfortable and that emphasized the characteristics of God which I did not understand, I was a feeling more fearful but beginning to see God much bigger and clearer. In the book of Proverbs, Solomon tells that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom�. I think as Christians we tend to forget this and shy away from religious experiences that make us fearful. In the Gospel of Mark we see the story of Jesus in the boat with his disciples. He is asleep in the stern when a large storm comes up. The boat takes on water, and the disciples fear it is going to sink. They wake up Jesus and ask him to help. Jesus unexpectedly speaks to the wind and the waves and tells them to calm down. Even more unexpectedly, nature listens to him and the wind stops blowing and the sea calms. At this, we are told, the disciples were terrified and said to one another "Who is this, even the wind and the waves obey him." It is good to be afraid of God. We should be afraid of God. He is perfect, holy, all-powerful, the creator of Heaven and earth and LORD of all. We are weak, sinful and unable to control our environment or even ourselves. We are the rebellious creation of the LORD almighty. Yet he loves us so much that he sacrificed his own son that we might have relationship with him. Going before God is something that should be done with a great deal of humility and a certain amount of fear and trembling. Because of this, it makes me cringe when I see the church embrace values of assimilation and conformity. I remember hearing once, on Christian radio, about a study done on mega-churches. The study concluded that one thing that mega-churches do well is to bring diverse people together. This conclusion made me laugh as that was not my typical experience as a Navajo man when I attended mega-churches. Yes, the study is right and they do gather together large groups of people and often times with varying colors of skin. But as a Navajo man I have never attended a mega-church that affirmed my peoples unique contribution to the body of Christ. A few weeks after I returned from the WCGIP conference in Hawaii I attended another conference at a mega-church here in the US. This particular church has many resources and thousands of members and really sees itself as a resource church. During the entire conference I heard over and over about how much my small congregation needed the resources and expertise of this mega-church. This was immediately right after seeing a mosaic of God's character portrayed in the varying styles of worship by people and cultures from all over the world. And now this mega-church was attempting to get me excited about the option of exporting their worship style and teaching to my community in Denver and even back on the reservation. Instead of exciting me, this broke by heart and made
me feel completely insignificant in their eyes. I recall thinking, does the leadership of this church even know who I am, and do they have any idea how much they need our 20 member Navajo church in Denver? This mega-church did have outreaches into many communities and neighborhoods around their city, and exported their programs throughout the world, but the overall feel of the congregation was that they used assimilation and conformity to keep the peace and hold the community together. It seemed that they were bound by their style of worship, common language and middle class life style and values. I do not believe that this church would pass the 'Tower of Babel' test. In other words, if the people all embraced different languages, cultures and worship styles, I do not think their congregation would last and eventually their people would be scattered across the land. I believe that the body of Christ is the reverse, as well as the completion, of what God started at the Tower of Babel. At Babel, the people had one language and culture and gathered around the purpose of survival and building their tower. But God came and confused their language and as a result they were scattered about the face of the earth and never finished their tower. In Acts chapter 2, we see the first church was started with people from all over the known world. God could have called and formed this first Christian community by enabling everyone to understand Hebrew. Instead, he enabled everyone to hear the Gospel in their own language. I think God wanted to affirm the diversity of cultures and languages that he created at Babel. And I think he wanted his Church to know that they were bound, not by language, culture or world view; but solely by the blood of Jesus Christ. I think God wanted his church to be uncomfortable and to understand how big he really is.
So I cringe every time I see the church embrace values of assimilation and conformity. I remember hearing once on Christian radio about a study done on mega-churches. The study concluded that for all of their faults, one thing that mega-churches do well is to bring diverse people together. I had to laugh to myself and thought that the pastors and members of these churches were going to be in for a big surprise when they got to Heaven. Sure, mega-churches bring together large groups of people and often times with varying colors of skin. But they do NOT bring together people of different cultures, tribes or languages. The mega-churches that I have experience with are all in English, have about a 70-90 minute service and worship is led by a contemporary praise band with an occasional 'ethnic' song thrown into the mix. These churches are generally middle-class and typically are predominantly white with a smattering of African-American, Hispanics ad Asians. They seem to focus on and embrace assimilation and conformity to keep the peace and hold the community together s they are generally bound by their style of worship, language, middle class life style, values
and appreciation for a 'good show'. I do not believe that most mega-churches would pass the 'Tower of Babel' test. In other words, if the people all embraced different languages and cultures, I do not think these churches would last and their people would be scattered across the land. I believe that the church is the reverse and also the completion of what God started at the Tower of Babel. At Babel, the people were gathered around one language, culture and the purpose of survival and building their tower. God confused their language and scattered the about the face of the earth. In Acts chapter 2, we see the first church was started with people from all over the known world. God could have called and formed this first Christian community by enabling everyone to understand Hebrew. But instead he enabled his disciples to speak in varying languages. I think he wanted to affirm the diversity of cultures that he created at Babel. I think God wanted this first Church to understand how big he really is. And I think he wanted them to know that they were bound, not by language, culture or world view; but by the blood of Jesus Christ. I think he wanted them to be uncomfortable.
Mark Charles mcharles@wirelesshogan.com
Mark Charles D7 "Ya‟at‟eeh." That is what I should have said. Ya‟at‟eeh is a Navajo greeting. It is always accompanied with a hand shake, and, if the parties do not know each other, it is usually followed with a formal introduction. I had just finished my shower and was getting dressed when they walked in. Immediately I could feel my defenses go up. "Who do you think you are?" I wanted to ask. "You don't even know me, or who I am!" My family and I had moved back to the Navajo Reservation about a year earlier and were living in a traditional Navajo hogan located out on a sheep camp. We did this so we could gain a deeper understanding of my Navajo culture as well as experience a life that was not uncommon for our people. We were six miles off the nearest paved road on a dirt road living with no running water or electricity. I was working at that time as a computer consultant. Much of my work I could do from our hogan, but I also occasionally had to travel into 'town' to meet with clients. On those days, I would usually go in early and stop by a local gym where, for a fee, I could take a shower and get cleaned up. This was a common practice for our rural community, and by doing this I felt a deep sense of affinity towards others who were in the same boat as me and even a sense of pride of where I came from. As I was getting dressed some white men came into the locker room, they were at the gym for more than a shower; they were there to get some exercise. They looked like they lived in town and were regular members of this particular gym. But for some reason, I saw them very differently that morning. I felt very aware of the fact that I was there only to shower, and I feared that they too knew I was from the reservation and was there because I had no running water at home. I feared they were looking down on me with contempt and disgust (even though they did nothing to indicate such an attitude). I had this urge to tell them angrily that I probably had a better education than they did (I graduated from UCLA) and that I probably earned a higher hourly rate than they did. These thoughts surprised and shocked me. I had never before felt such intense feelings of insecurity and fear of being judged over the color of my skin. After they left the room my emotions subsided, and I was left to myself, pondering where those emotions had come from and not knowing what I was supposed to do with them. These men never spoke to me, nor I to them. This entire ordeal was played out only in my mind but is served to drive a wedge into my heart and caused me to begin to emotionally isolate myself from the dominate society, an isolation that took me years to overcome. But it also opened a door for me to begin to understand an aspect of Racial Reconciliation that I had never considered before.
Looking back on that day, I think my entire emotional upheaval could have been avoided had I just remembered the lesson that I learned years ago. When I was in college I joined a Bible study group on campus. God used this to ignite my faith and teach me how to live as a Christian. I remember one lesson in particular. Occasionally, as a group, we would go around the city to give sandwiches to the homeless people we met. We saw in scripture that Jesus loved and cared for the least in his culture, he healed people who were sick and became friends with 'tax-collectors and sinners', even spending time in their homes. This challenged us to look for ways to love those in need around us. But these interactions generally felt very awkward to me. Where I grew up, I was used to people asking for money, and had grown very adept at turning them down, telling myself I was doing them a favor because they would only spend the money on alcohol and feed their addiction. Because of this, I now found that I had no clue how to interact with people I met on the streets and was unable to treat those in need the way Jesus did. I did not know what to say or how to start a conversation with them. After a few years of this type of bumbling interactions, I decided that I needed to take some drastic action in order to overcome this block. So one weekend a friend and I decided to live on the streets of Santa Monica for 24 hours. The next Friday we dressed in old jeans and tshirts and took a bus to a busy street near the ocean where we began our journey. For the next day, we were no longer the rich college students with extra money in their pocket. Now, we were just some guys on the street who had no idea where to get food or where to sleep so we would not get arrested. Suddenly, we found that we were now dependant on the very people we once gave charity to. Our interactions were much different now because we had nothing to give and everything to learn. We understood well the dangers of the streets of Los Angeles, and we approached our ignorance with slight fear and trembling. Even when the other homeless people found out that we were students and just doing this as an experiment, they still welcomed us as one of them and shared with us where to get a good hot meal and where and how to sleep on the streets. It amazed me how quick they were to welcome us into their world and help us to adjust. That night, before we went to sleep, we sat around with several people talking and telling stories. The next morning we woke up and were on our own again. That day I noticed and experienced how lonely and isolated it can feel living on the streets, even though there were people all around. I remember one moment in particular when I saw someone notice us walking on the sidewalk toward them, and they crossed the street and walked on the other side. By afternoon we were exhausted both physically and emotionally. It had been a long lonely day that stood in stark contrast to the previous night. I guess during the day, most of the homeless population is out looking for money or working day jobs, and so the only interactions we could
have had was with people who had homes, which essentially meant we had no interaction with anyone. And so we felt tired, lonely, hungry and discouraged; and this was after just one day! I could only imagine how we would feel after weeks, months or even years of seeing people cross the street or turn the other way when we came towards them. I learned that weekend that one of the biggest needs for people on the streets was the need to be acknowledged and spoken to, kindly and with interest. Food was easy to find, but people willing to talk and engage in conversation was much harder to come by. Had I remembered this lesson, I probably would have handled my insecurity differently that morning in the gym. Instead of sitting in silence and stewing in my emotions, I should have spoken up and interacted with the men who walked into the locker room. Not to challenge them and justify myself, but to hold out my hand and say “Ya‟at‟eeh”; and then to introduce myself and begin to get to know them. Since that day in the gym, God has been working in my heart and continues to challenge my behavior. Today, I spend a significant amount of time initiating interaction and building relationships with churches, organizations, businesses and people off of our reservation and around the world. Living on the Navajo Reservation feels very similar to the 24 hours I spent on the streets of Santa Monica; it is very lonely. Our nations and peoples have been pushed aside to scraps of land that are largely unwanted and out of the way. The majority of people who visit us are those coming to give us charity or those coming to take pictures at the 'Native American zoo'. Very few actually come for friendship. I have tried to explain to people that being Native American and living on the reservation feels like I am an old grandmother who owns a very large house. It is a beautiful house with plenty of rooms and comfortable furniture. I am upstairs in my bedroom tired, weak and sick. Meanwhile there is a party going on in my house. It is a large party with plenty of food and drink, games and laughter. People are all throughout the house having a great time. Yet no one ever comes up to my room. No one comes in to say hello and no one stops to acknowledge that the house belongs to me. It is not even that I am sad that I cannot join in on the festivities, or that I would be unwelcome to come out of my room. It is that, no one comes to me. And at times I wonder if they even remember whose house they are in. The temptation is to stay on the reservation and remain silent – to stew in my hurt and allow my emotions to fester. It is tempting to say, if no one remembers us, than we should just forget about them. But that will not lead to reconciliation nor is it the will
of our Father in heaven. God has continually called me to step off of our reservation and to give myself to relationships. Not to assimilate and 'fit in' with everyone else. But to introduce myself as a Navajo man and invite people into friendship. This is not the final solution. It is a step. It is only an entry point into a much larger process and a much bigger dialog. But we have to start somewhere. Our world, our country, our churches and our people are divided. There are generations worth of injustice, shame, hurt and anguish that drives fear into our hearts and fuels our isolation. And we are frequently just sitting in silence and stewing in our insecurities. I am not offering a solution, but rather a step. Can we stand up, put aside our insecurities, look each other in the eye, extend our hands and say “Ya‟at‟eeh”?
Mark R. Charles mcharles@wirelesshogan.com
Paved Roads Mark Charles D7 “Be still and know that I am God” That is the exhortation we hear from God in Psalms 46:10. But how possible is this in our modern technological world? What does it mean to be still before God? I used to think I understood this but after living for nearly 7 months on the Navajo reservation in a traditional hogan with no electricity or running water, no television, no hot showers or washing machines; no microwaves or refrigerators, no public transportation or paved roads leading up to my house, I am finding there is a level of stillness that I never knew existed. In Genesis chapter 11 we read the story of the tower of Babel. The inhabitants of the earth were increasing and they decided to build a tower in order to make a name for themselves, lest they be scattered abroad upon the face of the earth. The people wanted to trust in themselves and place their confidence in their own efforts and technology. And even what they built made sense. If you are few in numbers and the environment is harsh, it makes perfect sense to build a city and erect a tower. The city walls will provide security within and the tower will allow those traveling outside the walls to be able to go a greater distance and still see the way home. But God wanted the people to trust in him and so he came down and confused their language and scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth. This passage is a good reminder to us to keep our trust in God and not rely upon the works of our own hands. And that is an easy thing to do as long as our hands are producing something. It is easy to trust in God for our daily bread when we have a good job and receive a regular paycheck. It is easy to trust God for our future when we have a retirement fund and a savings account. It is easy to trust in God for our health, when we have excellent insurance and live near a good hospital. Our towers of Babel have been there for so long and have become such a part of our landscape that we do not even realize that we trust in them any more. Every day we wake up, see the tower and know where we are. We feel at peace because the tower is there. That is, until the tower is gone. How do our hearts feel when the paycheck is no longer available? What is our response when our health insurance policy is declined or Social Security in on the verge of going bankrupt? Panic sets in. Our hearts cry out, “We need these things. That is how God provides for us.” We have become so accustomed to our towers of Babel that we no longer see them as towers, we see them as gifts from God. And when they are gone we feel as if God has left us!
“God where are you? We cannot see the tower you gave us!” We scream as we run to where the tower used to be. “God, please help us to rebuild this tower. We need it! Please God! Where are you? Where is the beautiful tower you gave us?” But God is silent. Bills come due, sickness sets in, and our credit ratings take a hit. And still God is silent “God!” we scream, “where is the tower? We cannot see it. We are lost. Please help us!” Finally we fall silent. The screaming is over. We are hungry, cold and sick. The towers are gone, God is silent and we feel as if there is nothing left. But then we remember the words of the Psalmist. “Be still and know that I am God.” God is the God of creation. He created the mountains, oceans and deserts. The animals, fish and birds of the air are the work of His hands. Every morning He paints the sunrise and every sunset is His masterpiece. Rain, snow, earthquakes and volcanoes are the signs of his power, blessing and judgment. God is the God of creation. We are the people of the towers. Skyscrapers and cities, airports and harbors, insurance policies and saving accounts; all of these are the fruits of our labors. We have erected them to create a name for ourselves. And when we see them we feel safe and secure. But God speaks through his creation. He called Moses in a burning bush. Every rainbow is a sign of God‟s promise to never again destroy the earth in a flood. Often when we read of or see God‟s judgment, He is using His creation to destroy our towers. And yet, in our foolishness we continue to challenge Him and build bigger and better towers. We build skyscrapers high into the sky and put the foundations on springs or rollers to protect against earthquake. We build our beautiful homes on the edge of cliffs so that we may have a view others will covet. We send people to the moon and place our flag there, as if to claim some sort of ownership. We offer „Lifetime warranties‟ on our products and sell insurance policies to cover everything imaginable. “God will not win,” we say, “we will prevail.” I did not realize how much this mentality permeated my thinking until we moved into our hogan that is located on a dirt road, six miles off the nearest paved road. The dirt road is pure clay and when it gets wet from rain or snow the road is practically impassable. In fact, I have gotten stuck on this road numerous times as I traveled home in the rain. Once I was able to walk home, but another time my family and I had to
spend the night in the car. So I have quickly learned that when it rains we do not go out. One Friday as my wife and I were getting ready for bed I checked the weather. It had been a beautiful sunny day, so I was surprised to see the forecast calling for 3 days of rain and snow beginning that very night. We had planned to go grocery shopping the next day as we were nearly out of food and water, but when we saw the forecast we decided that I should drive the 25 miles into Window Rock immediately in order to pick up what we needed in case we were stuck at the hogan in the snow for the next 3 days. So I did. The next morning the sky was cloudy but no rain or snow fell. After a couple of hours of debating we decided to head back into Window Rock to run a few more errands. We took our 4x4 truck just in case the rains came. They never came. The next day was exactly the same. It was cloudy in the morning and we debated back and forth on whether or not to drive the 60 miles to church. We finally decided to try it, again taking our 4x4 truck so we would have a better chance of making it back home should the rains come. On our way to church, as we were driving the final 4 miles up a winding road back in the hills deep in the heart of the reservation, I noticed it had been raining quite hard. There were pools of water all over the ground and some small streams still ran alongside the road. But I also noticed I was not afraid. In fact I felt no tension, for the road was paved. “If this were the road near our hogan” I said to myself, “I would be very worried, for we could get stuck at any moment and have to walk several miles back home.” When it rains at our hogan we literally cannot go anywhere, so we sit. We read books, we pray, we spend time as a family. We are still and in that stillness we remember God. When it rains at our hogan we can hear God inviting us, saying, “Stay here. Don‟t go anywhere. Be still and know that I am God.” But if our road were paved we probably would not hear God‟s voice in this way, for the weather would have very little impact on our lives. Even during the rain and snow we could still get in our truck and go about our business. We could go where we wanted and do as we pleased. We would feel safe and secure thinking God was with us, because look, God has blessed us, the road is paved. Our tower is strong. We can go about our business. We would never realize that with the pitter patter of the falling rain God was faintly whispering, “Wait, don‟t go! Be still and know that I am God.”
Mark R. Charles mcharles@wirelesshogan.com