There are some pretty high-profile mommy-bloggers on a missions trip to Uganda right now - like BooMama and Rocks In My Dryer, along with several others in their team. I’ve been reading through their posts about their time on the mission field, and the comments people are leaving on their blogs.

I won’t go into the amazing things God is doing through them - you’ll have to go read about it yourself on their blogs, and I do encourage you to do so.  What struck me though - other than the awesome stories they share - is how many commenters insist on calling these men and women ‘brave’ and ‘courageous’ for what they’re doing (or in other words, for letting God do things through them). You can see Shanon’s take on it here, and then even after she admits that it doesn’t have a lot to do with courage, commenters continue to call her courageous and brave.

So what’s the problem with that? She left everything to go on a brief trip around the world, leave behind everything familiar, and entrust her children to be looked after while she was gone. That sounds courageous, doesn’t it? But let me ask you this. What’s really courageous about it? She’s facing her fears first of all. But that’s about it. And really, that just amounts to choosing to place her faith in Someone she can trust, rather than in worries and changing circumstances.

There’s a misconception that home is synonymous with safe, and Uganda (or Moldova or Bangladesh or anything else foreign) is synonymous with danger. After all, lions and tigers and bears - oh my! We’re afraid of what we don’t know, and that fear translates into an assumption of danger. But the fact is, safety is an illusion. There is nowhere our safety is guaranteed. There is nowhere we can feel sure of our safety. I could just as easily keel over from a brain aneurysm at home in front of my TV or get hit by a drunk driver and never make it home, as anyone else on the mission field could be overtaken by some unexpected tragedy. Safety is actually no more than God giving you one more breath to breathe. One more day to enjoy His creation. And He’s just as likely to provide it at home as He is somewhere else.  He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He is the same in the US, Uruguay, and Uganda.  Safety is an illusion we give ourselves in an effort to feel self-sufficient, independent. There’s less need for faith when we believe in an illusion of safety.

As for this team serving in Uganda, what they really have doesn’t have a lot to do with bravery or courage. It’s faith (or at least it seems that way from what they’ve been writing). They have faith that God will protect their families while they’re away. They have faith that God will keep their puddle-jumping airplanes in the air. They have faith that He will give them safety in the midst of vipers, unclean water supplies, and a host of other concerns. They have that faith because they know Him for who He is - the ultimate provider of their safety. The Creator of the heavens and the earth. The all-powerful, ever loving Healer, Sustainer, and Lord of all creation.

It irks me when people comment about the immense ‘courage’ of missionaries.  It’s not about courage. It’s about a conscious decision to place your faith in the One you know will not disappoint. It’s about choosing to have faith in the most Faithful One. And it’s about knowing that in all reality, He is sovereign, regardless of where you are.  After all, is anything too hard for the Lord?

In a lot of ways our culture defines us. It’s there in almost everything we do, say, and think. And we don’t even realize it until we’re confronted with another culture. Of course, it’s so ingrained in us, and so far from our level of conscious thought that we cling to it. And we view it as good, as opposed to all other cultural ideas being bad.

My culture tells me that productivity is king. That it’s more important to be on time for an appointment than it is to spend unplanned time cultivating a friendship. My culture tells me that it’s not ok to ask a woman her age or ask a friend what their house cost - or their car, or stereo, or anything else for that matter. It tells me that individuality is of utmost importance, and asking anyone to conform to my way of doing things is just not right. And it tells me that self-reliance, independence, and work ethic make me who I am.

My in-laws’ culture is different. It has opposite ideas to some of my cultural notions - like it’s more important to finish a conversation and put work into relationships than it is to run for the phone when it rings. It tells them that family ties and having people to count on brings more value than individualism or self-reliance. Their culture says that friends can share anything - even the cost of homes, valuables, or anything else important enough to spend money on.

Some of their ideas seem antiquated to me. Like their insistence that feet must be kept toasty warm at all times. Or that colds come from drafts, or sitting on a cold floor will bring infertility. But those ideas have their equals in my train of thought. I knock on wood. I kiss my fingers and touch them to the top of the car when I go through a yellow light. I can’t understand why a person would subject themselves to eating buckwheat - if not forced to under duress of extreme torture.

But the important thing for me to remember (and for them, too), is that culture brings a wonderful tapestry of different ideas. They’re not wrong or right. They’re not good or bad. They’re just different, and there’s nothing wrong with different. It’s hard to pull culture out our way of thinking and look at things objectively. It’s hard to compartmentalize when our cultural ideas are so much a part of our subconscious. It takes time and adjustment. And patience and understanding. And very widely open lines of communication.

Now, if only I could get my in-laws to believe that a grandparent’s biggest duty is to get up with the kids at night… Well, that and change dirty diapers… And maybe even potty train my now 2-year old.

In all the time I’ve been blogging, I haven’t written a single post about Moldova, the country where I spent 3 years as an English teacher, missionary, friend, church member, and wife. I met my husband there. I learned more about life and who I am in those 3 years than I did in 5 years of college and grad school. I started my professional career there. I made some of my closest friends. My in-laws are still there. Cousins, friends, and oodles of people I care deeply about.

A post over at Untangling Tales brought me out of the closet. In her Tuesday Tales she wrote a Belorussian folk tale about a prince’s love for a common girl. After writing it she was talking about it with someone who insisted on calling it “Russian,” and then said that Amy was being pedantic for insisting on it being Belorussian. (My thought: the person using the word pedantic is much more pedantic than the person insisting that a country independent for 15+ years is, in fact, distinct from its former colonial oppressor.)

With the connections I have to Moldova, and with a husband who was born and raised there, it’s infuriating when people refuse to acknowledge that Moldova is different from Russia. Let’s see. The national language is Romanian (de fapt este “limba noastra”, dar cu parere de rau asta este prea complicata pentru americanii care de obicei citesc blog-ul acesta), which is a romance language (like Spanish, Italian, French) - not Slavic. Moldova does not border Russia. Formerly it was a part of Romania. Romania is not slavic, nor is it Russian. So just because Moldova was a part of the Soviet Union (and not by choice either), people insist on calling it Russia?

Let’s get a few things straight. The Soviet Union was not Russian. The Soviet Union was a collection of 15 republics (formerly independent nations), one of which being Russia, consolidated under a single constitution and governing body. Those 15 republics (all of which are now independent nations - again) were: Belarus, Ukraine (which should not be called”The Ukraine”), Russia, Moldova, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan. The Soviet Union imposed both Communism and the Russian language on the countries (republics) it controlled, and did everything it could to mix up and confuse the very distinct nationalities, cultures, and heritages - all the while creating legislation and policies that pretended to protect those very same entities.

With that straightened out, let’s get to the source of my frustration. Here’s how a typical conversation goes these days: “So, is your family still in Russia?” “No. They never were. They’re in Moldova - it doesn’t even border Russia. Different country.” “Oh, and do you ever go back to Russia to visit them?” “Well, we go to Moldova to visit them, since we wouldn’t see them in Russia - it’s a different country.” “Oh. So is it a long flight to Russia?” “Well I suppose it would be. But we don’t fly there. We fly to Moldova.” “Oh, and Moldovia is, what, like a state in Russia?” You get it. Right? You’re smart enough to see what’s happening. You can see why it’s infuriating. Add to the frustration that Russia was the fear-inspiring oppressor (really the Soviet Union was, but the power of the Soviet Union was within the Russian Republic and the Russian ethnicity was staunchly protected), and since independence Russia has not ceased its meddling in Moldovan affairs.

Also let me note that we have many, many friends who are Russians. From Russia. Who speak Russian. They are dear friends and wonderful people. We hold nothing against them, seeing as how they were not the ones causing problems in Moldova. They were subject to the same oppressive regime Moldovans or Belorussians or Tajiks were. They just happened to be born in the most powerful of the republics. We won’t hold it against them.

I believe that the stubborn insistence on calling everything east of the Iron Curtain “Russia” comes from two things: stereotypes and lack of interest. There’s a stereotype that anything east of, say, Germany (or any part of Europe that’s not a major tourist destination) is communist. They’re the enemy and they probably have missiles pointed at us. They despise freedom, drink vodka, and don’t have heat in the winter. (In case you’re wondering, that isn’t any more true than the uninformed stereotype that everyone in Africa is a cannibal.) It’s that typical “them” and “us” distinction that gets us into trouble, especially when combine with the next problem.

The second issue is a lack of interest. Surprisingly though, even people we consider to be friends (or sometimes even family) have a shocking lack of interest. Every day we (we meaning all of us, as part of the human race) make a conscious choice about what information we’ll internalize. We prioritize informational input and choose what’s important enough to keep, and what’s superfluous. Unfortunately, the independence of our former cold-war enemy often falls under the category of superfluous information. And therefore, no matter how often we correct someone that Moldova (or Belarus or Georgia, or any other independent nation, including Bosnia, Slovakia, etc.) is independent, working for democracy (nu vreau sa le spun ca moldovenii au ales un partid comunist in alegeri democratice). It’s easier for people to stick with their uninformed stereotypes (and, in fact, the geopolitical information they learned in grade school) than it is to keep up with current events in a region they believe to have no direct impact on them. There’s a reluctance to accept change, and that translates over time to stubbornness and ignorance about the rest of the world.

The fact is that as time goes on the world is becoming a smaller and smaller place because of technology and the very same people who put information about the rest of the world in “superfluous information” category will be the same people who are left behind as the world moves forward. So why should I be concerned? They’re the ones who will be made ’superfluous’ in their careers, they’re the ones who will be forced to catch up or get out of the race. And I won’t let them bother me. But I will continue - daily - to correct their misassumptions and biases.

So here’s my challenge to you. When you get dressed tomorrow morning, look on the tag of your clothes and see where they were made. It might say China, or it might name some country you’ve never heard of. Whatever it is, google it. Find it on a map. And learn at least 3 things about that country. Keep up with where the world is going. When you flip through your newspaper, don’t chunk the “world” section because it has nothing to do with you (the “world” section consisting of no more than Afghanistan and Iraq is the topic of another rant, another day).

Thanks for bringing this up Amy. Maybe one day soon I’ll come even further out of the closet and share some of my experiences from Moldova, and introduce you all (all 4 of you) to a country you might otherwise know very little about.

Колыбельные мира. Молдавская.

I don’t know how many of you out there will ‘get’ this, but I love it! A group of mom’s in Russia has started collecting lullabies from around the world and posting them, complete with fantastically creative animation, on YouTube. This one is in Romanian (yes, it says it’s Moldovan, but that’s NOT a language!) and even if you don’t speak Romanian, it’s enchanting!

I found this great post at Everyday Mommy, and I started to write a comment. But my comment soon became an essay, and I decided to respond to the issues here. The question was about labels in the Christian faith. Forget about denominational issues. Some people choose to define themselves beyond that as Calvinists, Arminians, Covenant theologians or dispensationalists, Reformed, pre-Millenialist or post- or a-Millenialist, or one of a gagillion other labels. Plenty of other people don’t understand these labels and wonder what the importance is. So, how about questions like, are these labels / doctrinal issues important? Are they Biblical or man-made? Is it important to be able to label yourself with one of these?

Those are big questions, and I like the dialog they’ve inspired over at Everyday Mommy. I think labels are both absolutely important and yet also incredibly unimportant for a number of reasons.

They’re of absolute importance because a (very) large percentage of church goers have no idea about doctrine, nor do they see the need for doctrine. That’s an unfortunate consequence of most American churches dumbing things down. In an effort to be ’seeker-sensitive,’ or simply to present easily understandable material, a huge number of churches fail to educate their members (or attenders) about the intricacies of the faith. But understanding theology and doctrine brings with it a greater understanding of God Himself. Can you go through life without it? Absolutely. But I wouldn’t want to. This is coming from a former seminary student who attends a rather intellectual church.

On the other hand, the labels are really unimportant because yes, they are man-made. They’ve been defined over the centuries based on identifying with groups who adopt specific creeds, confessions, and catechisms. And the vast majority of them are all about the ‘minors’ of the faith. That is, if you can break up your faith into ‘majors’ and ‘minors’, the majors are the salvation issues. Everything else is a minor. In fact, there are so many labels purely because those minor issues are minors - anything essential to the faith has either been agreed upon and dissent is considered heresy - not a matter or this label or that.

I’ve been to all sorts of churches. Really. Catholic (my grandfather was a monk. Seriously.), Pentecostal, Baptist, Moldovan Baptist (don’t get me started on that), non-denominational, Calvary, UCC, Congregational, Presbyterian… The problem with our churches isn’t that we don’t define our differences well enough. It’s that the vast majority of churches pick some point or set of points and define themselves based on that - whether or not it’s truly central to the faith. There are too many divisives. And too many people who ascribe to those divisives without knowing the other options out there, or what importance it is (or isn’t).

Besides, we all see things differently anyway. It’s like a witness to any event - three witnesses see the exact same thing, but they all describe it differently. For the same reasons, we all have different understandings of how important different aspects of each label is. Likewise, we define how we label ourselves in every other way - as mother, wife, accountant, prayer-warrior, or whatever - but mostly we don’t like to put ourselves into simple, two-dimensional identities.

So perhaps what’s important isn’t the ability to pigeon-hole yourself into a simple identity, or reduce your faith to a category, but maybe the important thing is to look into the different labels and think about the issues they revolve around. It’s more about understanding God than being able to define yourself with the labels. Besides, if we concern ourselves more with forming solid relationships and finding common ground than we did with differentiating ourselves from others around us, perhaps we’d have stronger communities and be a little more authentic with each other.

Just my thoughts. Let me know what you think.