Friday, September 24, 2010

Two worlds meet

I don’t really understand a lot of the imagery used in the Bible. They are stories and examples from another world. I understand the ideas but I don’t REALLY relate; I can’t close my eyes and picture myself listening to Jesus tell stories and thinking to myself “Yeah I didn’t catch any fish last night.” Or “hmmm, maybe I should start treating the beggar outside my gate like a real person instead of a nuisance.” At least I couldn’t relate to these things before I moved to Bangladesh.

Over the last 2000 years technology has changed, the roads look different, and now the buildings are a little taller here, but the culture, the social structure, and the attitudes I see here, they are the same ones I read about Jesus being surrounded by.

I see the people and scenarios from that other world played out right here in my world and these stories now have faces and emotions and I relate to them and they become so much more real and special to me. I’ll share with you some of the most alive of these stories from that other world.

As Jesus entered Jericho there was a blind man sitting near the road, begging. When the blind man heard it was Jesus coming he cried out for help! He had heard that Jesus had done some amazing things, even healed blind people. The other people told this unimportant beggar to be quiet, not to bother the important rabbi that was walking past. Jesus stopped walking and healed the man that the others regarded as unimportant, and unworthy to get near the rabbi. Daily I see blind people sitting by the side of the road begging. When I read about this man calling out to Jesus I see the young blind man by that tree he always sits under; sometimes he jumps up and down or yells things to get attention. I see the old blind man at the intersection, led around by his daughter or grandson to get a few cents while the cars are stopped at the light, or the group of blind people that stand on the bridge near my neighborhood. Every now and then I’ll hear a blind person slowly walking down the road next to my office yelling “Allah! Allah! Allah!” letting people know he is there and needs money, crying out to Allah for mercy. These are the faces I see and voices I now hear when I read stories of blind people in the scripture.

I recently visited the ocean. There most of the villagers make their living by fishing. Many of the markets I bought souvenirs in stunk of the fish markets nearby that were full of fresh and dried fish. As I walked along the beach early one morning I counted 34 small wooden boats a few hundred yards off shore casting their nets trying to catch enough fish to sell that day; a scene I imagine to be common in Jesus’ day. I saw a group of men with casting nets trying to catch a few fish near the shore. As I spoke with one, he said they hadn’t caught anything…he blamed the calm sea. I thought of Peter, James, and John who hadn’t caught any fish all night when Jesus called them to follow Him. Now when I read about Jesus hanging out with fisherman, I see the wooden boats, I smell the fish market, and I see the sun darkened faces of ignoble men.


Towards the end of Ramadan when we were nearing the first Eid (celebration at the end of the month of fasting) thousands of beggars from the villages came to Dhaka in hopes that in this season of generosity they could make some extra money. I got to my gate one evening and there was a beggar sitting on a stool asking for money. My first thoughts were negative, wondering why he was in front of MY gate, and why didn’t someone tell him to go away, beggars aren’t allowed here…then I thought of the rich man who “ate sumptuously” and of Lazarus, the old poor man with sores who sat outside of the rich man’s gate. I was ashamed at my thoughts.

In one particular downtown area I go often there are dozens of beggar children. My heart breaks for these kids that this is the only life they know, that they are abused and taken advantage of, and that they aren’t in school. All those things aside, it can be annoying when they follow me down the street saying “boss, boss, boss, give me money, give me money.” They don’t go away, they follow me, they tug at my pant leg, I’ve had small children bear hug my leg and take a ride for a few steps. I react many different ways depending on my mood, the kid’s age, whether or not I’ve seen them before, and whether or not I think money will go to their family or to a pimp. Many times a shop owner or a guard will yell at the kids and tell them to leave me alone. I’ve gotten used to the kids and most of them recognize me. I don’t mind them much, I smile and talk to most of them. I recently thought about the kids that came to Jesus one day. The disciples yelled at them and told them to go away. I always assumed these kids were affluent people’s children who didn’t have school that day, but they would have been with their affluent parents and not have been rebuked right? Maybe. Now I think they were more like the 10 yr old that always tries to sell me books of little mermaid and Dora stickers, the 8 yr old that desperately wanted me to buy an Argentina flag from him, the 9 yr old girl trying to sell me a flower she picked from the hotel flowerbed, the 7 year old and his sister that wanted to sell me a baby bird, the 4 yr old that thought it was fun to grab onto my leg and see how far he could go for a ride, or the dozens of other children that just follow me around asking for money. Jesus put the affluent adults aside, rebuked his disciples and He called these children over. He took a knee or sat on the ground at their level, He asked their names and how old they were. He ruffled their hair, He healed their boo boos, and He blessed them.



These are some of the many stories that seem to jump off the pages of scripture and unfold before my eyes.

In the world I grew up in I never saw many blind people begging by the side of the road, or fisherman cleaning the nets they make a living by, nor did I have beggars sitting at my gate, and I didn’t have beggar children tugging at my pant leg. But living here in this world, and in this culture that isn’t so different from the culture in Jesus’ time, it has made the stories of His life become so much more real to me.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Attacked by 3 with guns and cleavers; God's goodness

Normally I don't carry valuables with me after dark unless I'm in a well populated, well lit areas. Tonight I let down my guard.

5:30pm I left the office on the other side of town. Its the weekend so I had all my work notebooks, personal notebooks, my laptop, camera, and ipod in my backpack; basically everything I have in Bangladesh that is worth anything. Normally I would go straight home and drop off any valuables I didn't need before going out anywhere, but I had a meeting on that side of town, followed by meetings on my side and knew I wouldn't be home for a while.

5:45pm Met with a friend for iftar, dinner, business, and general conversation.

7:15pm Took the overcrowded local bus back towards my side of town.

8:00pm Followed a friend's directions to one of the foreigner clubs. I've never been to this particular club which ended up being down a long dark side road. I talked on Skype with my lovely girlfriend for a good hour then joined 3 friends downstairs in the restaurant for a second dinner. (foreigner clubs are places foreigners can go hang out with other foreigners, swim, work out, eat western food, escape the craziness, etc)

11:00pm We decided it was time to go so we walked out of the club. My 3 friends hopped on a rickshaw and headed south. The other rickshaws wanted outrageous rates to take me north so I decided to walk back down the long dark road about 5 minutes to the main road because it was such a nice evening. I was responding to a text message (another thing I never do late at night on the road because I'm not aware of my surroundings) and made it about 1 minute down the road when there was a man in my path yelling. I looked up to see an angry man with a pistol pointed at me. I looked across the street and there were 2 or 3 guys with knives taking purses and wallets from my friends who had just left me. Strangely I felt really calm. I put my phone back in my pocket and stood still as I assessed the situation and my surroundings. I took a step toward the guy holding my hands out motioning "easy, easy." He didn't like that and 2 friends joined him each holding large meat cleavers. I backed up slowly towards the gate of an apartment building and asked the night guard to open the gate. They wouldn't budge and just peeked around a concrete column as the man with the gun pointed it back and forth at my chest and then my head, yelling that the wanted my bag and money.
I had my back to the gate, a cleaver guy on my left, another on my right, and a guy with a gun in front of me. The two with the cleavers started reaching towards my pockets and grabbing my backpack with their free hands; I swatted them away. When I hit their arms away from me, they started swinging the cleavers, and then kicking at me. As I danced and dodged cleaver swings and feet I realized they were scared more than I was because they didn't just attack me outright, but surrounded me just swinging and kicking at me. I made a dangerous bet that the gun wasn't loaded because why would a man with a loaded gun look so scared and just kick at me? I almost laughed at him holding a gun, but trying to kick me as if that would add to push me over the edge and intimidate me. I was still very calm and was sizing the 3 up trying to decide whether to grab the gun, or to grab one of the cleavers and risk the gun not being loaded. I thought, judging from their size and the fear in their eyes, that if I got a weapon from one of them I could run them off, maybe even get my friend's bag back. This thought actually went through my head: "If the gun isn't loaded, it would be useless and I might get hit with 2 cleavers while taking it; if the gun isn't loaded and I go for a cleaver, I may only get hit with 1 cleaver...but if the gun is loaded that would be bad..."

As I'm thinking through which weapon to grab the gunman pointed the gun in the air and pulled the trigger. I heard the distinctive CLICK of a dry fire. He then was fumbling with the gun trying to chamber another round. I dodged a couple swings of the cleavers then I pulled out my wallet and said in Bangla "ok, ok, I'll give you some money." He pointed the gun back at me and I couldn't tell if he'd chambered a round. I handed 1 of the cleaver guys a 1000 taka note, about $14USD. He turned and ran toward their car. The men with the gun and cleaver turned to see where he was going. In the split second they turned their heads I turned around leaped over the 8 ft gate that the night guards wouldn't open for me. At least safe from the cleavers and them grabbing my backpack. Once I was out of reach I saw the men jump in their car and run. As I was thinking about who I could call and get a ride home from two policemen pulled up on a motorcycle. My moneyless friends had found the police at the corner of the next block and told them they had just been mugged (they never saw me or the gunman on the other side of the street.) I climbed back over the gate, yelled and pointed and the police followed the car.
During my dancing and cleaver dodging Australian couple had pulled up to their apartment expecting to go home but saw the last half of the mugging. They asked what happened and if I was ok... I said I think I'm fine. They asked where I was headed and then gave me a ride home.
I got home still trying to figure out if that had really just happened! It seemed quite unreal. I dropped my bag (still with all of my valuables in it), pulled out my phone to resume my text message and noticed a large, precise crack in the side of the phone. I assumed it had actually cracked one of the many times I'd dropped it. I went to put it back into the sleeve and the sleeve looked like it had been cut with scissors...I looked at my pants and they also had been cut. Apparently my dancing skills are lacking and one of the swings of the cleaver actually hit my leg, but the sharp blade was stopped by my cell phone. At that point the delayed adrenaline rush hit me and I thought "HOLY CRAP, I WAS JUST ATTACKED BY A GUNMAN AND 2 MEN WITH CLEAVERS." I was what we call a bit shaken up.

I credit God for keeping me safe from men with guns and cleavers. When I was looking down the barrel of the pistol and felt that strange peace and calmness, I knew nothing was going to happen and I wouldn't lose anything. I didn't hear an audible voice, but I felt God's presence and his calmness and I knew it was going to be ok. I'm thankful I was on foot and more mobile. He gave me wisdom in knowing when to talk and refuse the guys and when to give a little money. I thank him that the 1 cleaver man jogged away and the others turned to see where he was going. I thank God that He gave me the calmness of mind throughout and the sense to jump over the gate to safety when I had the chance. I'm thankful I didn't lose anything other than $14. I'm thankful He protected me from physical harm. I thank Him the police came (a little later than ideal, but they showed) and muggers left. I thank Him that the Australians came home at just that instant and were willing to give me a ride home. I've been asking God to let me see Him work in this place and while I was expecting something different, He definitely showed me that He is real and that He is watching out for me.