Daily Humiliations

A few days ago, I gave the cashier at the store the wrong amount and spent 10 minutes trying to convince her I knew what I was doing until the bag boy slowly, carefully, in broken English counted all the bills out for me. Two days ago, I tripped foolishly on my way out of a store while a crowd watched. Yesterday, I got in a snarling fight with a dog on the street only to discover the old man watching me with amusement from his front porch.

Living in Indonesia has been a humbling experience. Okay, a humbling experience on steroids. I am humbled and often humiliated in some situation pretty much daily - even if I don't leave home. Today, I asked my helper to wipe down the inside of a kitchen cabinet that was smelling bad. I was hoping it was just mold but it was bad enough I couldn't rule out something dead. Pretty soon, she came to me with an awful and smelly container full of black, putrid mold. Then I remembered the pancake mix that I had put in the container and stored under the counter...last summer. In Colorado, no biggie, but in hot, humid Borneo...biggie. I felt terrible but she so kindly dealt with my mess. I apologized and she chuckled, telling me I didn't mean to forget.

But I didn't exactly think, either. I have ignored that smell for quite some time, assuming it was just moldy cabinets when all along a little investigation on my part could have eliminated the problem. Now I just look like a clueless American that puts things that rot under the counter and forgets about it, then demands her helper to clean up that "smell." (I feel this way though I know my helper doesn't think that way.)

I know there are so many spiritual lessons from this but to be honest, I'm just ashamed at my laziness and bad housekeeping skills and about the fact that a woman who is quickly becoming my friend is cleaning it all up for me. Never mind the fact that she washes, dries and folds my underwear. Everyday. *sigh*

Like any self-respecting human being I like to look like I have it all together but living in Indonesia - a place I so obviously do not fit in - has made it hard to keep the smooth mask from slipping. I feel foolish and childish so much of the time - wrong word that pops out, creating a ridiculous Indonesian sentence; a failed attempt at walking over slick concrete pavers; a million cultural faux paux; being taught the proper way to cut a watermelon after wasting half of it; letting somebody clean up my messes.

We live in Indonesia not because we have so much to offer the people here but because we felt compelled by God to come. It is as simple as that - not because we're smart or super-spiritual or brave or adventurous and certainly not because God needs us here. I am not so naive as to believe that God brought me here to impress Indonesians and thus win them to the Lord with my language skills and general "awesomeness." That pretty much went out the window when I told my first taxi driver in Jakarta "Sertuma Tasih" as I fell out of his car. Sertuma tasih by the way, means absolutely nothing. I thought it was Indonesian for "thank you" but what with all the general awesomeness floating around my head, I guess I misunderstood. Anyway, the fact is that pretty much all I've done since we've been here has been to depend helplessly on our Indonesian MAF staff, their wives, kind strangers, and this dear neighbor lady who cleans my floors, washes my undies, and helps me find the source of a bad smell.

This daily humbling? It is good. Since my feet first touched Indonesian soil nearly two years ago, there has been one major theme that God is hammering into my thick skull - "You need me, Rebecca. You can't do this on your own strength. It isn't about you impressing anybody or helping anybody or saving anybody but about you truly learning to depend on and trust in Me. I am all that matters and I am all you need."

Language school, several moves, learning to homeschool, having a helper, finding my way in a new city, standing out (big and tall and white) everywhere I go, learning how to cook with what I can find here, cultural frustrations and misunderstandings - all of it comes down to the simple truth that I am not so generally awesome and self-sufficient after all and I am nothing apart from Christ. I need Him so much.

And, okay, I'll admit, most of this stuff that "humbles" me is usually hilariously funny to me 24 hours later. Ha! I literally stomped, danced, hollered, and even spat at that dog trying to bite my heels in the middle of the street yesterday! That man on the porch must have been laughing about it the rest of the day. I know I would have. I wonder if he sits out there waiting for me to walk by to provide a little comic relief to his long days? I am pretty sure that 9 times out of 10 I don't disappoint.