Transformation

Hello! Yes, I do still exist, even though it's been more than a year since my last post! I guess I'm just never going to be one of those people who blogs regularly. But it's here for me when I need it, which is nice.

Recently, I attended my organization's annual conference in Chiang Mai. It's always good to see friends whom I rarely/never see outside of that conference. I also always look forward to the times of worship and the spiritual retreat that happens at the beginning of the week. This year, during the spiritual retreat, we were given the option of using our imagination to meditate on a particular passage of Scripture: Matthew 17's recounting of the Transfiguration. After being encouraged by the friend leading the session (thanks, Karen!) to consider what it would be like to have been there - what would you have seen? Felt? Heard? - I was inspired to write this. I thought I would share it, in case it helped anyone else see that story in a new light.

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Transformation

What would it be like, to go up a mountain with Jesus and just a few of your closest friends? To know Jesus had a special purpose for this particular hike - but that purpose is beyond anything you could have imagined.

You see your Teacher and Friend transfigured in front of you. He shines so brilliantly that you can't see his face (which was so familiar) behind the radiance. You realize this radiance has to come from heaven itself.

Then two figures out of the distant past appear, and they talk with your Teacher like he knows them already. You look at your friends, eyes wide. How do you even respond to this?

And then, as if you weren't already awed, amazed, and fearful enough - there's more. God Himself sends a cloud (like He did to guide His people out of slavery; somewhere in the back of your mind you make that connection, even as your fear grows) to envelop you, the two great prophets, and your Teacher. You hear a thundering voice, which can only be the Lord Himself. He proclaims your Teacher as His own dearly loved Son. What can you do but worship - worship, and wish you had realized this truth sooner? You have been living, eating, walking with, and learning from the very Son of God. How did you not know?

But then the cloud melts away, and your Friend touches you where you lie trembling in the dust. "Get up," He says. "Don't be afraid." You still recognize His voice, His touch. You still know Him, though you also know now how much more you need to know Him.

And He knows you. He isn't angry or disappointed. He brought you this far, and He isn't going anywhere.

 

For unto us...

So, I know I'm probably the last person - certainly the last 'cross-cultural worker' - to have read this book, but I just finished reading Peace Child by Don Richardson. I borrowed it from our neighbors, who are currently on home assignment in the US. It's the story of Don and his wife Carol's life with the Sawi people of New Guinea. It's incredibly gripping, and very, VERY well-written. (The first short section is like an ethnography of the Sawi people, in fact.)

The Sawi were an isolated, warlike, dangerous people, who practiced headhunting and cannibalism. Their language was extremely grammatically complex, with nineteen tenses, numerous ways to express mood (subjunctive, etc.), and an amazingly specific set of verbs to describe actions we might use one verb to describe, such as "open". Okay, all that sounds a little bit cliche, maybe, if you've read any missionary stories. But there was another facet of Sawi culture that made the Richardsons' work much more difficult: the people idealized treachery above all things. To "fatten with friendship" - to lull a friend into a false sense of security before betraying and murdering (and then eating) them - was the ultimate heroic act. Those Sawi who accomplished this in new or more shocking ways were those that went down in legends.

So when Mr. Richardson tried to communicate the gospel to these people, they listened with interest for the most part - but they decided Judas Iscariot was the hero of the story! But of course, since he performed the ultimate act of betrayal.

Here's where the redemptive analogy comes in: the key concept that brings the gospel into the culture of the people in a way they will truly understand. I'm not going to explain it all here; you should read the book if you haven't already. Let me just say, I happened to be listening to Fernando Ortega's beautiful instrumental version of "Of the Father's Love Begotten" while I read the climactic scene about the Peace Child. Cue tears. (I don't normally listen to Christmas music before December, but it's on the CD with other hymns and it's too gorgeous of a track to skip.) Amazing, breathtakingly perfect soundtrack.

Redemptive analogies: the Lamb, the Word, the Peace Child. I love reading stories about them.