The Value of a Life

The question I’ve been contemplating much lately is this: What is the value of a life? 

Dr. Paul Farmer has said that, “The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world”.

Scientists have calculated the cost to physically re-create the elements of a human life (though the monetary value estimation varies quite a bit from study to study), but these findings don’t take into consideration one very important aspect of human life.  We are created in the very image of God.  That fact in and of itself is enough to make the value of human life immeasurable.  But Scripture goes farther and gives us a glimpse into the notice and love God lavishes upon each individual life:

For You shaped me, inside and out. You knitted me together in my mother’s womb long before I took my first breath.
I will offer You my grateful heart, for I am Your unique creation, filled with wonder and awe.
You have approached even the smallest details with excellence; Your works are wonderful;
I carry this knowledge deep within my soul.  You see all things; nothing about me was hidden from You
As I took shape in secret, carefully crafted in the heart of the earth before I was born from its womb.
You see all things; You saw me growing, changing in my mother’s womb;
Every detail of my life was already written in Your book;                                                                                                               You established the length of my life before I ever tasted the sweetness of it.  -Psalm 139:13-16 (The Voice)

I will never forget one particular Street Ministry outreach night here in Addis. The team from Strong Hearts and I travelled to the Piazza area of the city to meet with a group of street boys.  They have started for themselves a business, wherein they collect trash from all over the city and sort through it for recyclables.  It is with the small amount of money they earn in exchange that they pay for their everyday necessities.  Standing in the midst of the dozen or so teenage boys, I looked around at my surroundings.  Three trash dumpsters stood nearby, heaped with pungent refuse.  To the right and left of the dumpsters were makeshift shacks, composed of scrap metal, discarded and torn tarp, and a few mismatched wooden poles. This was a place far removed from any definition of “home” I have ever known…or ever want to know.

After singing about God and a time of prayer for each other and this nation, we just started talking.  We spoke of our triumphs and troubles, our struggles and successes.  This is my favorite part of Street Ministry.  My brothers, the street boys, continually challenge me with their perception.  They have struggled in a way I will never understand, and it’s through this struggle that they understand God in a way I don’t.  

On this memorable night, one of the boys spoke up and said, “When people see us, they think of us as no better than the trash we collect”. This statement cut me to the very soul…because it’s true.  The streets of Addis are full of the homeless, outcast, disfigured, handicapped, mentally ill and those caught in the vicious cycle of poverty.  It is easy to become overwhelmed with the need, overwhelmed with the begging, overwhelmed by the desire to change the harsh reality of need. Sometimes it’s easier to turn a blind eye to this need.  Sometimes it’s easier to ignore the cries of the hurting. Sometimes it’s easier to forget that Jesus loves every person you will ever see or meet just as much as He loves you.

As my brother in Christ was speaking, a verse kept coming to my mind:

“God does not show favoritism” – Romans 2:11

When God looks at us, when He sees us, when He thinks of us, He doesn’t see the labels we assign to each other.  Galatians 3 tells us that there are no distinctions of religion or gender in Christ…but there is also no poor, rich, fat, thin, attractive, unattractive, black, white, educated, illiterate, American or foreigner.  We are all on equal footing when it comes to the love of God.  I shared this Truth with my street boy friend. God’s Truth can bring freedom, but the reality is that we live in a world with labels, labels that are used to assign value to life.

Genocide, ethnic cleansing, Holocaust…these are all words to describe the extreme devaluation of human life.  But I have been challenged to examine my own life to see if I assign more value to some of God’s Creation than others.  When I pass a beggar in the street, do keep walking or do I stop to offer than a loaf of bread and a kind word? Do I treat my students with patience and love…no matter what their nationality or academic ability? Do I love those closest to me…even on the days it’s hard to?

Anne Frank, a young girl who gave a face and name to the millions of Jewish children slaughtered in the Holocaust said it best: “How lovely to think that no one need wait a moment, we can start now, start slowly changing the world! How lovely that everyone, great and small, can make their contribution toward introducing justice straightaway… And you can always, always give something, even if it is only kindness!” 

I pray that all of us, including yours truly, will strive to see others as God sees them.  Only then can we begin to be the Ambassadors of Christ we are called to be!

 

Perspective

The word “perspective” has been defined as “one’s ‘point of view’, the choice of a context for opinions, beliefs and experiences”. This past week, combined with the previous two months here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, has definitely challenged my perspective on this world in which I live.

The definition above is an interesting one in that it mentions that we are the ones who choose our perspective. True, our upbringing, culture and value systems definitely impact our perspective…but ultimately, it’s a choice. I remember a time when the “WWJD: What Would Jesus Do?” bracelets were big in the US. Such a simple question, but one that can truly change this world in which we are temporary residents.

Thursday night I was invited to participate in a street ministry to teenage boys living in the Piazza area of Addis with members of the Strong Hearts team. Honestly, I did not want to go. My preconceived ideas of what the boys would be like flooded my mind with images of violence, filth and ignorance. I was concerned for my safety, my health and ultimately, my comfort.

It turns out the only ignorance came from within me… I was greeted warmly and shown nothing but hospitality and kindness. I sat in a shack made of sticks, discarded metal and plastic tarp that most Americans wouldn’t consider large enough for a closet, yet I felt at home. The 12 souls crammed into the close quarters were a mix of Ethiopian, American and Irishmen, but together we worshipped the Lord of all in one accord. We talked of His power to overcome any obstacle in our life, His willingness to forgive our shortcomings and the new life He offers every moment of every day. I listened to the testimonies of God’s faithfulness to those who, by the worlds’ standards, have absolutely nothing to be thankful for.

I listened as they praised Him in Amharic, and joined with the other English-speakers to sing “Amazing Grace”. As I sang a song I memorized as a child, I couldn’t help but be challenged by the words. “I once was blind, but now I see”. It’s as if Christ Himself were removing the scales from my eyes. I could now see clearly just how misguided my perspective has been.

One of my colleagues here at Bingham has a shirt that proclaims “I Need Africa More Than Africa Needs Me”. I am learning just how true this is… I am in a place that is nothing like where I came from, and yet I have been welcomed with open arms by the people I have met. I am living in a huge city full of sights, sounds and smells that this country girl has never experienced before, yet I see the beauty in the chaos. The language spoken here is foreign to me, yet God hears the prayers and songs of His children here just as He hears my family and friends back in America. I do not look like those I see all around me, yet I am accepted in spite of my differences. I have been offered acceptance, love and friendship here…and I am challenged to choose to offer the same.

I wish I could say that this is an easy choice. Yet there is so much need in this city that it’s easy to turn a blind eye to those in need. After all, what can just one person do? What, indeed. Jesus commands His followers to love, to give, to protect, to defend, to have compassion on those less fortunate. Was it easy for Jesus to leave His perfect, beautiful and sinless Heavenly Home to love His enemies, to touch the leper, to love the widow and orphan, to be constantly followed by those wanting something from Him? His Divine nature loved them beyond our comprehension…but I wonder if His Humanity wanted to stay safe, clean and comfortable. He had a choice, just as I do.

What will I choose? Will I choose to lead the relatively comfortable life of a expatriate teacher in an international school, or will I choose to walk as Jesus walked? Will I choose to step out of my comfort zone? Am I will to touch the dirty, downtrodden masses of this place? Will I love the unlovable?

“So why do you keep calling me ‘Lord, Lord!’ when you don’t do what I say?” – Jesus (Luke 6:46)

“God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,
for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
God blesses those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are humble,
for they will inherit the whole earth.
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they will be satisfied.
God blesses those who are merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace,
for they will be called the children of God.”
-Jesus (Matthew 5:3-9)

Melkam Addis Amet!

Times Square, noisemakers, party hats, Dick Clark, Auld Lang Syne,
snack food galore, bowl games, parades, kisses at midnight and the
ever-fleeting resolution…these are the words that came to mind when
I thought of New Year’s Eve. Well, until I spent my first New Year’s
in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Now, you may be wondering why I’m talking
about New Year’s Eve in September…Well, here in Ethiopia, things are
a bit different than the other side of the world.

Enkutatash, or the Ethiopian New Year, is celebrated on September
11th. Ethiopia still retains the Julian calendar, in which the year is
divided into 12 months of 30 days each and a 13th month of 5 or 6
days. In fact, the “motto” of Ethiopia is “13 Months of Sunshine”
(though during rainy season, the sunshine is fleeting indeed!). This
year, Ethiopia celebrated the start of 2003.

Enkutatash means “gift of jewels”. Legend has it that when the famous
Queen of Sheba returned from her expensive jaunt to visit King Solomon
in Jerusalem, her chiefs welcomed her by replenishing her treasury
with inku or jewels. A spring festival has been celebrated since that
time, and as the rains come to their abrupt end, dancing and singing
can be heard at every village in the green countryside. (As a side
note, despite the fact that the rainy season is supposed to abruptly
end at Enkutatash, no one bothered to tell that to the rain…)

My first New Year’s Eve in Addis is perhaps the most memorable of my
recollection. I spent the day with the ministry team of Strong Hearts
Ethiopia. Strong Hearts is a non-profit community development ministry
located in the southwest area of Addis. Their organization addresses
the needs of a community living in especially difficult
circumstances…living conditions that we as Americans cannot even
begin to grasp.

Strong Hearts ministers to the community of K’ore, which includes the
leper colony in Addis (yes, leper colonies still exist in our modern
world). The dire need of the people living in this community is truly
indescribable…you really do have to see it to believe it. One of the
many ministries of Strong Hearts is their “Buna Tetu”, literally
“Drink Coffee”, for the women of K’ore. It is a time for the women to
fellowship, hear the Gospel, and, of course, drink coffee (by the way,
Ethiopiais the birthplace of coffee, so it’s the best!!!).

For the New Year, Strong Hearts blessed their Buna Tetu families with
a chicken and four eggs each. To us this seems rather inconsequential,
so I’ll put it into perspective. Currently, the US dollar is worth 16
Ethiopian Birr. I have been told that an average month’s rent here is
around $8. A chicken costs around 1600 birr…or $10 USD! On New
Year’s Eve, several of my Bingham colleagues and I joined the amazing
staff of Strong Hearts to hand out the (live) chickens and eggs,
repeating the phrase “Melkam Addis Amet” (Happy New Year) more times
than I can remember.

Following the ministry at Strong Hearts, we join the staff for an
Ethiopian New Year’s celebration. This party featured a freshly
slaughtered sheep cooked over a bonfire (t’ibs), traditional songs and
dances around the fire using chibo (bundles of sticks), firecrackers,
fellowship and bountiful laughter. Ferengi (foreigners) and Habesha
(Ethiopians) alike welcomed in the New Year with great celebration and
anticipation.

As I mentioned earlier, the Ethiopian New Year is observed on
September 11th. It is ironic that while an entire nation celebrates,
looking forward to what is ahead, another nation mourns, remembering
what has been. I am struck by this paradigm. As I enter the year 2003
(again! And I really don’t mind being 7 years younger!), I have been
challenged to never forget where I’ve been, but to look forward to
what God has for me this year in Ethiopia!

Amehsehgenalehu (thank you) for your prayers and support as I follow
the call God has placed on my life!

For more information about the amazing ministry of Strong Hearts
Ethiopia, check out their website at http://www.strongheartsethiopia.org.

Conversations

I suppose it is an inevitability that, when living in a new place, everyday conversations would seem a little less “everyday”.  I have found this truth amplified here in Addis. I would like to give you just a taste of the conversations I have entered into over the past 48 hours.  All are what I would consider “everyday” conversations in this place, but to me they have taken on an element of the extraordinary.

Friday afternoon I head to Shoa Market to pick up a few groceries to help me survive the first week of school.  One of the items on my list is cheese, a basic form of sustenance that has never before intimidated me…until now.  You see, in order to purchase the cheese, I must approach the deli counter and somehow communicate effectively my request.  I actually avoided the counter for some time, focusing on my other purchases.  But eventually I can put it off no longer.  After all, our third Amharic lesson covered purchasing food in the market, so I SHOULD know how to do this, right?  “Gimash kilo provolone afeligallo” (I want a half kilo of provolone)

The cheese man was rendered speechless!  I’m sure he had no idea this blonde ferengi (foreigner, or white person) even knew how to say “Selam” (hello), let alone order in his native tongue.  After ordering some cheddar as well, I chatted with him for a little bit (in English…I mean I have only had 4 lessons in Amharic, what were you expecting?!), and he kept repeating that I was “gobez”, which means clever.

I want to interrupt my story here by saying that I’ve been getting that a lot…native Amharic speaker seem to think that I’m rather clever for learning a few words of their language so quickly.  But I like to point out to them that they are complimenting me in perfect English, which is their second language!!!!  I would LOVE to be fluent in Amharic (breaking the stereotype of mono-lingual Americans), but it seems like a “mission impossible” for me right now….maybe someday!

The above scene at Shoa is repeated at Save More, where I greet one of the workers by name (Solomon), and then head out to the front of the store where there is a fruit and vegetable stand.  I am determined to order everything in Amharic…gimash kilo mooz (bananas), ahnd ananas (one pineapple), gimash kilo zucchini (do I really need to translate that?), gimash kilo dinich (potatoes), gimash kilo bertukan (oranges), and gimash kilo avocado (again, this should be obvious!)…for a grand total of 27 birr (that’s around $2)…”a special price for a special customer”, the veggie man whispers to me.  I’m not sure if I believe him, but it’s still nice to hear! J

On Friday afternoon when I return from shopping, I get a call from the high school Principal, saying that the entire administrative team wants to meet with me.  I start to enter panic mode until he assures me that I’m not in trouble.  It turns out that the other vocal music teacher is returning to the US, and we need to decide how to rearrange my schedule so that I can cover all her classes.  Honestly, this is a bit of an answer to prayer.  You see, I love to teach kids to sing.  It is what I do, and a big part of who I am.  Since there were to be 2 vocal music teachers, I was going to become the drama teacher…which I have never been, but was really looking forward to it.  With my new schedule, I can now teach chorus AND incorporate drama into the lessons.  Though my schedule is much more full than before, I’m really excited about the year to come at Bingham! J

Saturday is a day I have looked forward to for some time.  You see, Saturday is the day I will return to Strong Hearts.  Strong Hearts is what brought me to Ethiopia in the first place, and a major reason I am back.  This Saturday, I was coming to their “Buna Teta”, or “Drink Coffee” event.  It is a time for the women of the community (and their children) to get together, have some fun (with various games, including musical chairs), drink yummy buna, and hear the Truth of God’s love for them and the sacrifice that Christ made for all of them on Calvary.

I ask if there is anything I can do to help, but am told that today I am a guest, so all I should do is sit and enjoy myself.  My first conversation at Strong Hearts is with Michael, an Orthodox Priest.  I am slightly intimidated by his all-black attire and wrapping of white scarves, but he is very friendly and eager to chat.  He seems enamored by my name (it apparently is the same name as an American celebrity, and he wants to know if I know her!), and wants to know my age.  He misunderstands me and thinks that I am ten years younger than I really am (which I get a lot here…and I’m ok with that!).  When I correct him, he asks how many children I have.  When I reply that I don’t have any children, he gets a shocked look on his face and says, “You don’t have a husband?!”.  I guess I should look on the bright side…at least he didn’t ask me WHY I didn’t have a husband!   I though the entire conversation was a little odd, I mean, he’s a priest, right?!  Well, come to find out that Orthodox priests can marry…and he wants to do his master’s work in the US.  Can you say “green card”?! 😉

My next conversation was, perhaps, my favorite of the last 48 hours.  A little girl sat right next to me at Strong Hearts.  Her big, luminous chocolate eyes seemed to notice my every move.  So, I attempted to make conversation, asking her name “Simish ma neow?”.  Her reply was “Meskerem”, which I learn from my Ethiopian brother Brook is the Amharic word for September.  Now, those of you not familiar with the Coptic calendar of Ethiopia may not know that the Ethiopian New Year is September 11^th.  Many people name their daughters Meskerem as a reminder of a new start, a new beginning.  Meskerem sits on my lap for most of the buna teta, frequently turning around slightly so she can look at me.  She finally gets up the courage to touch my hair (so different from her own), and spends the next half hour touching it.  When it is time to go, her mother (who was sitting in front of us), tells her something in Amharic, and Meskerem comes over and shyly gives me a kiss on the cheek, her hand clutching the rose that was given to all the women, but that I gave to her.

After the buna teta, I have a seat in Dundee’s office (he is the director of SH) and we talk about Strong Hearts and my possible future role there.  I have to pause here and say that I have never met a man like Dundee.  I have heard others call him a “visionary”, and I wholeheartedly agree.  His heart for his community and his God are unmatched by any I have seen.  And yet he balances this with a humility and humor that keep him approachable by the rest of us mere mortals.  I am excited to join the ministry that God has entrusted to him and can’t wait to see what the upcoming year holds.

After our talk, I am invited to join Dundee and his friend Sami for a dinner celebration with some other friends.  The next 4 hours are filled with such thought-provoking and enlightening conversations that I could not even begin to do them justice!  We discuss free will, predestination, worship styles, the differences in Protestantism in the US vs. Ethiopia, music and much more.  It is just amazing to me that I can have such deep conversations with people I have only just met!  I guess it’s just another reason why I love Ethiopia!

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. – Psalm 19:14

Week 1 in review

The staccato of rain is accented by the beep of a taxi.  As the rain increases in volume and speed, a local shopkeeper motions for me to take shelter under his awning.  The stone path is washed clean by the torrent of chilly rainwater, making travel treacherous…at least for a few moments, until the storm abates.  Dark eyes stare at me wherever I look, but they are filled with curiosity, not contempt.  I am a stranger here.  An alien in a foreign land.

Yet on the campus of Bingham, I feel at home.  Of course, it’s not truly home…at home I never had to worry if the water would be connected or if there would be enough clean drinking water to last me the weekend or when the electricity or internet would work.  No, this isn’t my home, either.  But it feels like home.  The faces I see are my new family.  We live together, laugh together, worship together and teach together.  We are united in a common cause…to use our gifts to glorify the One that gave them in the first place.

I am (very) slowly learning about this place in which I find myself…the familiar in the midst of the foreign. I am building relationships both inside and outside of the gated walls of Bingham, and I’m excited to see how God will use those connections in the year to come.  In the course of a week, I have spoken to the same shopkeeper twice.  Last Saturday, I had no idea what he was saying (which he found rather hilarious, the usual response).  But this Saturday I answered his questions in the best way my two lessons in Amharic would allow.  I now know that his name is Solomon, and he knows my name is Lisa (Simay Lisa neow).  We then joked about his level of wisdom…in English, of course.

Why does the unfamiliar seem so natural to me?  A good (Ethiopian) friend offered an important reminder the other night.  To those of us who claim Eyesus Getha Neow (Jesus Is Lord), this world is not our home.  We were not made for this place, but one far better.  One where there is no water shortage or power outage or language barrier or cultural faux pas.

“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone.  In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord.  And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.” – Ephesians 2:19-22

reflections on a life changed

Here is an excerpt from a blog I contributed to while on my first visit to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia in February 2010:

I have spent the last five days surrounded by some of the neediest children in the world.

I have spent the last five days surrounded by some of the most loving children in the world.

I have spent the last five days surrounded by some of the most precious children in His sight, and I will never, ever be the same. I don’t want to ever be the same. My time at Strong Hearts has changed my life forever.

As a teacher, I knew that I would love the children of Ethiopia. I told myself that “children are children”, no matter where they are from. While this is true to some degree, I have found that the children of Ethiopia are so much more. Their trusting eyes look up at me in eager anticipation, and my heart melts. Their toes peek through the ends of battered, dirty shoes, and my heart breaks. What do I have to offer these priceless little lives? The songs I sing with them do not even come close to meeting their most basic needs of food, shelter, water and clean, well-fitting clothing. Why do they seem to adore me so, when all I can give them is a few hours distraction from their bleak lives?

And yet…they greet me with an enthusiastic, “Good morning, Class” (spoken proudly in broken English, which is MUCH better than my feeble attempts at Amharic), and say goodbye with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. And even though the kisses are a mix of unwashed faces and runny noses, I don’t mind because I know their love is unconditional. And their love challenges mine. They have nothing, yet they offer everything. I have everything…yet what do I offer?

Last night I came across a Scripture that at any other time in my life I may have simply skimmed over:
“Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” – Psalm 82:3-4

I feel like my short time here in Ethiopia has only been a drop of water in an ocean of desperate need. But even a small drop causes a ripple that grows and changes. My prayer is that the time I have spent here will not end with my departure from the Bole airport, but that what I have seen, heard and experienced will grow me, mould me and make me more like Christ.

Lisa

“Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion for the world is to look out; yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good; and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now.” –St. Teresa of Avila

Hello world!

Tenastalin!  Welcome to my blog!  My name is Lisa and I am about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime…living, teaching and ministering in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia!  This blog will allow you, the reader, to come with me as I follow the path that God has led me down.  I hope that together we can see Him more clearly!  Amehsehgenalehu for visiting! 🙂