Kob. It is the Creole word for money. In the Creole Bible, Jesus talks about it a lot. So does Paul. Some have pointed out that no single subject receives as much attention as money. So, it should be no surprise that money has to be part of our life, even, or maybe especially in a place where there is so little.
My rant, today, is how Kob changes relationships. Let me give a few examples. Last Sunday, I had the opportunity to preach at Jacquey Christian Reformed Church, the congregation pastored by the overworked Executive Director of the CRC in Haiti - Pastor Romelus. It was a wonderful morning. Their singing nearly raised the concrete roof. Their attentive listening, to this English preacher and the Creole interpreter, and their joyful disposition: all memorable. Unfortunately what was most memorable was the four English words a young Haitian boy strung together at the back door as I was greeting worshippers on their way out. The boy couldn't have been more than five. His bright eyes and wide smile matched the inviting expressions I had witnessed all morning. And then he uttered those four words, hand outstretched, "Give me a quarter." I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.
The next example was later this week at an inspiring Timothy Leadership Training event at the Ministry for Christian Development. There, 70 congregational leaders had gathered together for three days of training, going through lessons with one another, holding each other accountable for growth and action plans, and sharing and praying with one another. At the end of one small group session, we got together in pairs to share ministry plans with one person and hear their feedback. A young man selected me as his partner. He shared his vision that all of his village would hear the gospel, just the kind of faith-inspiring big vision that makes a person smile. I asked him how he planned to share the gospel with his whole village and he told me that he planned to show them a movie, "the Jesus Film" in French. My smile turned to curiosity, wondering why a black Haitian would want to show his black Creole-speaking neighbours a movie with a white, French-speaking Jesus to introduce the gospel to them. My question to him was more mundane, asking how he would go about arranging to show the movie. That was when it became obvious why he had chosen me as his partner. He explained that he would buy a projector, a sound system, a laptop, speakers, and a screen -- and that I could provide the funds. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Instead, I told him he misunderstood my purpose as his partner, and no, I would not give him my email so that he could send a funding request letter to me.
I could tell more. I could tell you the sheer volume of times I've had homeless children stop my vehicle to wipe it down for the equivalent of 12 cents. I could tell you about the time my daughter was sitting in the traffic eating a cookie and a grown man tapped on her window to ask for the cookie. This morning at church, the pastor pointed out that five members of the worship team hadn't eaten in two days. Two weeks ago our housekeeper attended the funeral of her brother, coming back with a request for us to pay for the education of her dead brother's grand-daughter. Our house staff, paid more than average, have each asked us for raises multiple times, even though today only marks two months that we have been in this house. These and other examples demonstrate the way Kob affects relationships here. It's not easy being rich in a place where everyone is poor.
Don't get me wrong. I understand our need for generosity, for doing as Jesus did and looking out for the least, the last, and the lost. And following the lead of those who sent me here, I will look for ways to be generous and experience the joy that gives.
What I mourn though, is the way Kob shrinks relationships. What could have been a nice exchange between a preacher and Haitian boy at the door of the church was sold for a quarter. What could have been two Christian leaders collaborating about how to share the gospel was reduced to an unanswered plea for funding sound and video equipment. What could have been a sharing in the mourning of a staff person in the death of her brother was shrunk to a plea to finance an education. What was a wonderful time of being led in worship by exuberant singers is now a constant reminder of the inequalities of this earth, wondering which of the musicians has eaten and which has not.
I suspect, as much as I want to simply rant, that the healthier response is to mourn, to mourn in a way that draws me closer to those in need rather than repels me with disgust and fatigue. I suspect that if I am to grow in the coming months I will only do so by staying in the Kob-induced struggle of constantly seeking the line of careful compassion between the obvious ditches of careless giving and uncaring selfishness.
I suppose that is a road we all travel, no matter where we live.
End of rant.
My rant, today, is how Kob changes relationships. Let me give a few examples. Last Sunday, I had the opportunity to preach at Jacquey Christian Reformed Church, the congregation pastored by the overworked Executive Director of the CRC in Haiti - Pastor Romelus. It was a wonderful morning. Their singing nearly raised the concrete roof. Their attentive listening, to this English preacher and the Creole interpreter, and their joyful disposition: all memorable. Unfortunately what was most memorable was the four English words a young Haitian boy strung together at the back door as I was greeting worshippers on their way out. The boy couldn't have been more than five. His bright eyes and wide smile matched the inviting expressions I had witnessed all morning. And then he uttered those four words, hand outstretched, "Give me a quarter." I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.
The next example was later this week at an inspiring Timothy Leadership Training event at the Ministry for Christian Development. There, 70 congregational leaders had gathered together for three days of training, going through lessons with one another, holding each other accountable for growth and action plans, and sharing and praying with one another. At the end of one small group session, we got together in pairs to share ministry plans with one person and hear their feedback. A young man selected me as his partner. He shared his vision that all of his village would hear the gospel, just the kind of faith-inspiring big vision that makes a person smile. I asked him how he planned to share the gospel with his whole village and he told me that he planned to show them a movie, "the Jesus Film" in French. My smile turned to curiosity, wondering why a black Haitian would want to show his black Creole-speaking neighbours a movie with a white, French-speaking Jesus to introduce the gospel to them. My question to him was more mundane, asking how he would go about arranging to show the movie. That was when it became obvious why he had chosen me as his partner. He explained that he would buy a projector, a sound system, a laptop, speakers, and a screen -- and that I could provide the funds. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Instead, I told him he misunderstood my purpose as his partner, and no, I would not give him my email so that he could send a funding request letter to me.
I could tell more. I could tell you the sheer volume of times I've had homeless children stop my vehicle to wipe it down for the equivalent of 12 cents. I could tell you about the time my daughter was sitting in the traffic eating a cookie and a grown man tapped on her window to ask for the cookie. This morning at church, the pastor pointed out that five members of the worship team hadn't eaten in two days. Two weeks ago our housekeeper attended the funeral of her brother, coming back with a request for us to pay for the education of her dead brother's grand-daughter. Our house staff, paid more than average, have each asked us for raises multiple times, even though today only marks two months that we have been in this house. These and other examples demonstrate the way Kob affects relationships here. It's not easy being rich in a place where everyone is poor.
Don't get me wrong. I understand our need for generosity, for doing as Jesus did and looking out for the least, the last, and the lost. And following the lead of those who sent me here, I will look for ways to be generous and experience the joy that gives.
What I mourn though, is the way Kob shrinks relationships. What could have been a nice exchange between a preacher and Haitian boy at the door of the church was sold for a quarter. What could have been two Christian leaders collaborating about how to share the gospel was reduced to an unanswered plea for funding sound and video equipment. What could have been a sharing in the mourning of a staff person in the death of her brother was shrunk to a plea to finance an education. What was a wonderful time of being led in worship by exuberant singers is now a constant reminder of the inequalities of this earth, wondering which of the musicians has eaten and which has not.
I suspect, as much as I want to simply rant, that the healthier response is to mourn, to mourn in a way that draws me closer to those in need rather than repels me with disgust and fatigue. I suspect that if I am to grow in the coming months I will only do so by staying in the Kob-induced struggle of constantly seeking the line of careful compassion between the obvious ditches of careless giving and uncaring selfishness.
I suppose that is a road we all travel, no matter where we live.
End of rant.
Thanks for this insightful post, John. Reading it makes me realize again how wealthy I am and inspires me to seek harder for justice and equality.
ReplyDeleteHi John and family,
ReplyDeleteIt's a quiet Friday night and I was reading through your stories. Thank you for sharing your experiences with the rest of us. I can only imagine the emotional battles and frustrations that you and yours are feeling as you continue with the tacks at hand. May the Lord help you all feel the joy that only You and Him can share and that that joy can be seen in those around you.
I am reminded of a story I likely hear from you:
two men walking on a beach on a day when sea turtle eggs were hatching and the young ones were trying to make it into the sea to avoid being eaten by the birds that had gathered. There thousands of them. One of the men began to pick some of the young one up and put them in the water to save them from the birds. the secon d man said," you can't make a difference with all that is happening here" The other just replyed,"I did for that one"
May God continue to bless you. Tony I am glad we had this chat
Thanks for your encouraging words!
ReplyDelete