jill.musick

My last WorldVenture Spring Retreat was last weekend (Friday and Saturday). This year, we decided to stay close since a few of us had been on mission trips, and most people had other things going on during break (such as the Freiburg Marathon). So we went to Titisee. Last year, Emily and I did a two-day backpacking trip to Titisee during spring break.

It was a good weekend to share stories of what God is doing in our ministries, share prayer requests, and encourage each other. I love our WorldVenture Germany team!

In Tanzania, I didn’t wear a watch. I barely knew what time anything happened. There was sunrise, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sunset. We planned to start VBS at 9am each morning (I didn’t know what time it was until Wednesday). Monday morning our breakfast arrived late; the ladies cooking the chapatis were running behind schedule. We asked Alex Higgs, the trip leader, what we should do. He said, “We eat breakfast when it gets here, and then go to the school when we’re done.” Rather than being bound to the Almighty Schedule, we just did things as they came along. “What time is it” was an irrelevant question.

African culture places relationships above time, while European culture tends to prioritize time over relationships. In Germany, everything runs by the clock. Trains are always on time, as are planes, meetings, and appointments. In Tanzania, people are “on time” if they arrive when they’re ready.

This could be both a good thing and a frustrating thing. For me, it was freeing. Rather than stressing about deadlines, it allowed me to just live fully in every moment. I could play clapping games and sing with the kids and not be worried about being on time for a meeting. The only time the loose time schedule would be frustrating is when a schedule is imposed upon a schedule-free culture (see my post on our travel delays).

I compare my time in Tanzania with my packed-full, parceled out weekly schedule at BFA. My life is so sectionalized and divided, I find it hard to invest fully in each event or person. My stress level is much higher when I’m confined to a schedule. Am I more productive? In some cases, probably. But do my relationships suffer? Probably.

I’m not sure how to reconcile a relaxed attitude toward my to-do list with the necessary deadlines that do exist. The trip to Tanzania is causing me to prayerfully consider my priorities as I follow my set schedule.

Going to Tanzania, I didn’t bring much stuff. I didn’t bring my laptop, cell phone, camera. Rather than missing those things, I found myself feeling more content and less stressed out.

Most days I carried nothing in my hands. Possessions weigh me down and get in the way of relationship-building. When my hands had been emptied of stuff, they were free to hold more hands.

American culture says that money buys happiness. But these kids have no money, and they are content.

“Better is a little with righteousness than great revenues with injustice. It is better to be of a lowly spirit with the poor than to divide the spoil with the proud” (Proverbs 16:8,19).

“As servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: . . . as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything” (2 Corinthians 6:4,10).

Can I gain the discipline to put away “stuff” and focus on my relationships with people and with God even when I have access to an abundance of material goods?

Last Supper

On Wednesday evening, our last supper in Longido, our group had a special worship service. Sabina, Alex and I (the 3 leaders) washed the feet of all the students. One student later apologized – he hadn’t showered or washed his feet the entire trip, and I’m pretty sure he only had 1 or 2 pairs of socks. This humble foot-washing was a reflection of the Passover meal when Jesus washed His disciples’ feet.

After eating our meal, we shared communion together. Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). Jesus wants us to remember Him, his death and resurrection. The tradition He started with his disciples is one we continue even now.

Death

While Jesus was on the cross, the repentant thief recognized Jesus’ holiness and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42).

The children in Tanzania said something strikingly similar to me. “Jill, when you go back to America, remember me.” Maybe these kids didn’t have hope that I would ever come back. But what mattered was this: even if we never see each other again, you are imprinted in my memory, and I in yours.

These children remembered the BFA students who came on the trip last year. The day we arrived, they came up to me and asked, “Where is Amanda? Is Mikala here? Do you know Maddie?” They loved it when they received proof that these students remembered them, too – like a letter from Amanda to Esupat.

The thief on the cross wanted Jesus to remember him. But Jesus promised that rather than just being together in memory, they would be together in actuality, in Paradise.

Resurrection & Return

Jesus rose from the dead on that first glorious Easter morning, proving that He had the power to bring that thief into Paradise. But Jesus didn’t stop there. Earlier, after washing the disciples’ feet, he had given them a promise for the future after the resurrection.

“In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. . . I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:2-3, 6).

Jesus had to leave, even after the resurrection, but He promised to come back and take us to be with him.

Before we left Tanzania, several girls asked if I would be coming back. A few asked me if I could take them to America.  Even if I were able to take them to America, all their problems would not be solved. They long to be in Paradise, and America is not it.

My prayer is that these children will know this Jesus. He knows their names, He remembers their sorrows, joy, and pain. He will come back one day. He can give them a better home. There will be no more tearful goodbyes once they are in their Father’s house!

Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Hallelujah!

Cool morning mist. Cracked clay ground. Dry river beds. Kilimanjaro at sunrise.

Timelessness.

Summer rain. Dirt. Loud crickets.

Driving on the left side of the road. Honking. Donkeys, goats, chickens crossing the path. Woman carrying 2 chickens and a baby.

Skirts, worn at all times. Bug spray, sun screen. Hand sanitizer. Sticky fingers coated in dirt. Bucket baths. Bottled water. Donkey brays his disapproval of our chosen sleep patterns. Dogs chime in with yapping. Cow gives her input.

Sun. Heat. Light. Bright colors. Joyful faces of those who have nothing, yet possess everything.

Soccer. The most important sport. Rules carefully observed. Lines engraved in the dirt. New soccer goals. Thorns in the grass. Rooster on the field – 10 points if you hit the chicken!

Maasai warriors, men, women, and children who smell of manure, sweat, and burning trash. Piercings, jewelry, blue and red checkered cloth. The Boma, made of sticks and mud and manure. Circles burned or cut on cheeks and forehead at a young age. Lion killers. Spears, knives, rods. Tire-tread sandals.

Women selling goods. Beads. Horns. Carved animals. Hollowed out squash. A firm hand grasping mine, pulling me to the ground to buy her bracelets. “It’s good, very good. Mzuri sana.” “Choose what you like.”

Childrens’ voices. Loud singing. Clapping, swaying, jumping. Worship. Call and response. Goats passing by our outdoor church service. Chickens join the singing.

Hand clapping games. “Down down de, down down di do de. C C A, C C the road-A. Mama ama anke, mama ama e. Booga booga booga booga ax!” Swahili, Maasai, English. Yes, the answer to every question.

Hands touching my skin. Children fighting to put their hand in mine. Touching our arm hair. Pulling my hair into braids. “What is this?” “A freckle.” “What is a freckle?” Teaching me to count in Swahili. Reminding me again of their names. Carrying one old plastic bowl for meals. Torn purple sweaters. Yellow shirts. “Teacha! Give me sweets!” Tears wiped away quickly, hidden sadness. Dark eyes full of sorrow, saying, “Why do you leave? Take me with you!”