I'm happy to report that I'm back in Grahamstown and slowly settling in to digs life. It's been an exciting time, with plenty of plans milling around in my head for Christians @ Rhodes and for my Master's degree. And that's why I ended up spending three of my last days in Cape Town at Parliament.
You see, last year a woman in my parents' church who is one of the managers of Parliament's operations happened to mention to my Mom that there were a couple of areas in Parliament that were desperately in need of some linguistic research. My Mom told me, and I had an interview with the Parliament manager. After hearing that Parliament was opening early for the year, I scheduled in a few days to observe what was going on there and see if there was an area I could concentrate my Master's degree on, before I headed back to Grahamstown,.
Well, the linguistic side of things was very interesting, but I'm going to have about two years to look at that, so I thought I'd blog just about the experience of being there.
I took a bus into the centre of Cape Town on a Tuesday to go and sit in on a parliamentary committee meeting which was set up to decide whether or not to fire Vusi Pikoli, the National Director of Public Prosecutions. The bus leaves my parents' neighbourhood way early to get to town by 9am, and the meeting only started at 10am, so I packed my Bible and snuck into St George's Cathedral for a quiet time before the meeting started.
Getting into Parliament in the first place was quite a mission. I expected security checks, but nothing like what I found there. At first I called at a boom gate into the parliamentary precinct, but the policeman on duty there said I wasn't allowed in without a permit. I had heard the previous day that there was a visitors' centre, so I asked the cop for directions to that. I had to walk around a long block and through some glass doors and a metal detector before I could even report to the visitors' centre desk and ask for a permit. Then I could walk through to the building where the meeting was to be held, through another metal detector. All this time I was rather clueless about where to go and what to do. My mind cast back to those anthropologists we had talked about in class, adventurers who landed on a remote island armed with little more than a toothbrush and hunting knife, unable to understand the natives' language. Fortunately a security guard at the second metal detector saw my lostness and showed me through to the Old Assembly Chamber where the meeting was happening.
I was directed to the public gallery, where I could watch the action happen one floor below. MPs milled in and out, shaking hands and hugging each other with surprising congeniality. Then they took their place sitting in the rows of green leather benches staring each other down along the sides of the room: four rows for the ruling party on the left; four rows for the opposition on the right; chairpersons in three chairs in the middle, facing towards me. All the benches had desks in front of them with microphones, and whenever people wanted to speak, they would push a button on their desks to switch on a little red light indicating that their microphone was on.
On the first day I was there, Vusi Pikoli gave a presentation on why he should be allowed to keep his job, followed by some long question-and-answer sessions where he was grilled by the MPs. The next day Minister of Justice Enver Surty and Frank Chikane from the president's office came in ostensibly to answer questions from the MPs, but really just to give reasons why he should be fired. The whole thing was quite a charade actually, with the ANC MPs desperately scratching around for reasons to fire Pikoli and the opposition expressing its disapproval at every turn, asking Pikoli what he thinks the real motive for his suspension was. Someone's written a very good opinion piece on the committee meetings I went to, which I suggest you read if you'd like to find out more about the political issues at the meetings: http://www.mg.co.za/article/2009-01-26-tragedy-and-farce. I don't know if I could say it better, so I won't.
Two of the things that struck me about my visit to Parliament were the put-on politeness of the MPs and the genuine friendliness of the staff that I talked to. Parliamentary etiquette prescribes a very polite way of saying things: plenty of 'thank you's are said and MPs are referred to as "The Honourable" so and so. This type of language is used even when debate gets heated. Also, Chikane, Surty and some of the ANC MPs professed to be friends of Pikoli on the one hand, but harshly criticised him, arguing that he was unfit for office, on the other. I can only imagine how much he felt betrayed by this.
On the other hand, I found the parliamentary staff excellent in their willingness to go out of their way to help me. The security guard who showed me into the public gallery struck up a conversation with me the next day, showing interest in what I was doing. And on my third day in Parliament I had an appointment to interview the head of the language services division. He was wonderful in giving me a tour around the division and in introducing me to others whose work I was interested in. I had a very fruitful morning talking to them.
Why was there such a difference between the false politeness of the MPs and the friendliness of the parliamentary staff? I think it must have something to do with their respective jobs: the staff are there to serve, while the MPs are there to oversee what government does, be critical and score a few political points along the way if possible. But it was more than just a job thing; it was an attitude thing. It makes sense of Jesus' words: "You know that in this world kings are tyrants, and officials lord it over the people beneath them. But among you it should be quite different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant." (Matthew 20:25-26). If we are servants, we'll have the right attitude to leadership, and false politeness will fade away in the face of genuine interest in others' well-being. Or at least that's what my three days in Parliament taught me.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Make Sure the Yoke isn't on You
This weekend I had a tough decision to make, and turned to the Bible for some sound advice. One of the verses I looked up was this one:
"Don't team up with unbelievers." (2 Corinthians 6:14, NLT)
Or, as the more literal ESV has it, "Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers." Now this is a well-known verse, which in my experience used most of the time to discourage Christians from dating non-believers. You know the drill: "No, Johnny, you can't go out with Jenny, no matter how hot she is, because she's a non-Christian."
"But what if our relationship ends up leading her to Christ?"
"With respect, Johnny, it's more likely it'll end up leading you the other way. Just trust God's Word on this one. You can't be unequally yoked. It just won't work."
Yes, I've said that speech too. And it's true; it's a good one. But is 'teaming up with unbelievers' limited to romantic relationships? Does it mean that I can't even be on the same soccer team with an unbeliever? What on earth does this verse mean? That's what I was wondering.
I had a couple of days of angst about it before I decided to fire up my e-Sword and figure out once and for all what this whole 'unequally yoked' deal is all about. In the Greek.
So here it is: the Greek word for 'unequally-yoked-with' is heterozugeo. If you're sharp, you'll notice that the hetero- part is the same prefix that we use in words like 'heterogeneous' and 'heterosexual' to mean 'other or different'. So that's pretty clear. Being unequally yoked has to do with being connected to people different from you in the sense that they don't believe in Jesus.
The other part, -zugeo, comes from a word that means, um, well, 'yoke'. Now unless you were born in the time of the Voortrekkers you're unlikely ever to have seen one of these things. Apparently a yoke is a big piece of wood that fits over the necks of two oxen pulling an ox-wagon or, more to the point, a plough. So picture you as one of the oxen, and an unbeliever (or a few) harnessed on the other side of this yoke, and you'll get some idea of what the verse is talking about. I took three things out of this (not so comfortable) image.
1. Being 'unequally yoked' is about when you're working together for the same purpose. Oxen are yoked together to pull a wagon or plough a field or otherwise make themselves useful. If you're just hanging around with unbelievers, hoping that you can witness to them and bring them to Christ, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, if we're not around unbelievers, how are we meant to make disciples as Jesus told us to? But if you're working together with unbelievers on something like a business partnership where you've got some common goal, then you may be 'unequally yoked'. Advance to point 2 to find out if you are.
2. Being 'unequally yoked' is about being tied down. After all, if you're an ox, and you're yoked to another ox who wants to turn right, you've gotta turn right with it! It's easy to see how this could be a problem for believers. If you're in a partnership where you're obliged to do something with another person, and he or she starts doing things that don't honour God, you're stuck. This is, I guess, why romantic relationships with non-Christians are not a good idea. Our partners may put us in a position where it's a choice of their way or the highway, and their way involves some dodgy stuff. But on the other side, if you're working together with non-Christians in such a way that you're not obliged to do anything you don't want you, you're fine.
3. Being 'unequally yoked' gets you nowhere. Try to picture a little ox on the right hand side of the yoke, and a huge one on left hand side. Where do you think they're going to go? The big, strong ox will probably pull the wagon and the little ox towards the left, and they'll keep going round in circles. Not so helpful. Neither is teaming up with unbelievers if you're working toward a common purpose, and tied down to each other.
Obviously, it's impossible to get away from all unbelievers, and a bad idea too, as we've seen. So in this world we've constantly got to be checking our relationships to see if we're getting 'unequally yoked', in unhealthy relationships with unbelievers. So ask God to help you make sure that the yoke doesn't get onto you!
"Don't team up with unbelievers." (2 Corinthians 6:14, NLT)
Or, as the more literal ESV has it, "Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers." Now this is a well-known verse, which in my experience used most of the time to discourage Christians from dating non-believers. You know the drill: "No, Johnny, you can't go out with Jenny, no matter how hot she is, because she's a non-Christian."
"But what if our relationship ends up leading her to Christ?"
"With respect, Johnny, it's more likely it'll end up leading you the other way. Just trust God's Word on this one. You can't be unequally yoked. It just won't work."
Yes, I've said that speech too. And it's true; it's a good one. But is 'teaming up with unbelievers' limited to romantic relationships? Does it mean that I can't even be on the same soccer team with an unbeliever? What on earth does this verse mean? That's what I was wondering.
I had a couple of days of angst about it before I decided to fire up my e-Sword and figure out once and for all what this whole 'unequally yoked' deal is all about. In the Greek.
So here it is: the Greek word for 'unequally-yoked-with' is heterozugeo. If you're sharp, you'll notice that the hetero- part is the same prefix that we use in words like 'heterogeneous' and 'heterosexual' to mean 'other or different'. So that's pretty clear. Being unequally yoked has to do with being connected to people different from you in the sense that they don't believe in Jesus.
The other part, -zugeo, comes from a word that means, um, well, 'yoke'. Now unless you were born in the time of the Voortrekkers you're unlikely ever to have seen one of these things. Apparently a yoke is a big piece of wood that fits over the necks of two oxen pulling an ox-wagon or, more to the point, a plough. So picture you as one of the oxen, and an unbeliever (or a few) harnessed on the other side of this yoke, and you'll get some idea of what the verse is talking about. I took three things out of this (not so comfortable) image.
1. Being 'unequally yoked' is about when you're working together for the same purpose. Oxen are yoked together to pull a wagon or plough a field or otherwise make themselves useful. If you're just hanging around with unbelievers, hoping that you can witness to them and bring them to Christ, there's nothing wrong with that. After all, if we're not around unbelievers, how are we meant to make disciples as Jesus told us to? But if you're working together with unbelievers on something like a business partnership where you've got some common goal, then you may be 'unequally yoked'. Advance to point 2 to find out if you are.
2. Being 'unequally yoked' is about being tied down. After all, if you're an ox, and you're yoked to another ox who wants to turn right, you've gotta turn right with it! It's easy to see how this could be a problem for believers. If you're in a partnership where you're obliged to do something with another person, and he or she starts doing things that don't honour God, you're stuck. This is, I guess, why romantic relationships with non-Christians are not a good idea. Our partners may put us in a position where it's a choice of their way or the highway, and their way involves some dodgy stuff. But on the other side, if you're working together with non-Christians in such a way that you're not obliged to do anything you don't want you, you're fine.
3. Being 'unequally yoked' gets you nowhere. Try to picture a little ox on the right hand side of the yoke, and a huge one on left hand side. Where do you think they're going to go? The big, strong ox will probably pull the wagon and the little ox towards the left, and they'll keep going round in circles. Not so helpful. Neither is teaming up with unbelievers if you're working toward a common purpose, and tied down to each other.
Obviously, it's impossible to get away from all unbelievers, and a bad idea too, as we've seen. So in this world we've constantly got to be checking our relationships to see if we're getting 'unequally yoked', in unhealthy relationships with unbelievers. So ask God to help you make sure that the yoke doesn't get onto you!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Correction, or On Sour Grapes and Puckering Mouths
In a couple of recent blog posts, I've been raging on like a minor prophet about how South Africans share a collective responsibility for the recent xenophobic violence and our government's reticence to deal more toughly with Mugabe and his cronies. But while I was on holiday, my father said something that made me change my thinking a little.
We were discussing Ezekiel 18:2-4, where the Lord says, "Why do you quote this proverb in the land of Israel: 'The parents have eaten sour grapes, but their children's mouths pucker at the taste'? As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, you will not say this proverb anymore in Israel. For all people are mine to judge both parents and children alike. And this is my rule: the person who sins will be the one who dies."
The old proverb means that the children will be punished for the actions of their parents. A group would be punished for the actions of those in the group. There was collective responsibility, and collective punishment in Old Testament times. But Ezekiel prophesies about a time when each person will be accountable for his/her own sins; there will be no more collective responsibility. My father pointed this out to us.
In Jeremiah 31:29-30, God cites the same proverb and repeats that it will not be used any more for the same reason. But here this dawn of individual responsibility for sins is associated with the beginning of the new covenant which God negotiated with us through Jesus.
So it seems we don't need to worry that God will judge all of us South Africans for what some people in the government and on the streets have done. But he will judge us for our individual attitudes towards those in need. Seems we still have a lot of repenting to do!
However, that must not stop us from interceding for those in our nation or city who have done wrong and are under judgment. Paul gives us a good example when he says "My heart is filled with bitter sorrow and unending grief for my people, my Jewish brothers and sisters. I would be willing to be forever cursed cut off from Christ! if that would save them" (Romans 9:2-3). Paul would be willing to take his people's sins on himself. And that's exactly what Jesus did when he took our sins on the cross.
These two are brilliant examples for us to keep crying out to God for our people who don't know him, asking that he would save them from their wickedness. There are plenty of others in the Old Testament: Moses, Nehemiah, Daniel. So let's do what they would have done and pray earnestly for our people.
We were discussing Ezekiel 18:2-4, where the Lord says, "Why do you quote this proverb in the land of Israel: 'The parents have eaten sour grapes, but their children's mouths pucker at the taste'? As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, you will not say this proverb anymore in Israel. For all people are mine to judge both parents and children alike. And this is my rule: the person who sins will be the one who dies."
The old proverb means that the children will be punished for the actions of their parents. A group would be punished for the actions of those in the group. There was collective responsibility, and collective punishment in Old Testament times. But Ezekiel prophesies about a time when each person will be accountable for his/her own sins; there will be no more collective responsibility. My father pointed this out to us.
In Jeremiah 31:29-30, God cites the same proverb and repeats that it will not be used any more for the same reason. But here this dawn of individual responsibility for sins is associated with the beginning of the new covenant which God negotiated with us through Jesus.
So it seems we don't need to worry that God will judge all of us South Africans for what some people in the government and on the streets have done. But he will judge us for our individual attitudes towards those in need. Seems we still have a lot of repenting to do!
However, that must not stop us from interceding for those in our nation or city who have done wrong and are under judgment. Paul gives us a good example when he says "My heart is filled with bitter sorrow and unending grief for my people, my Jewish brothers and sisters. I would be willing to be forever cursed cut off from Christ! if that would save them" (Romans 9:2-3). Paul would be willing to take his people's sins on himself. And that's exactly what Jesus did when he took our sins on the cross.
These two are brilliant examples for us to keep crying out to God for our people who don't know him, asking that he would save them from their wickedness. There are plenty of others in the Old Testament: Moses, Nehemiah, Daniel. So let's do what they would have done and pray earnestly for our people.
Being the Bridegroom’s friend
Sunrise. The bridegroom gets up and says to me, "Thus begins the day." It’s his day, his bride’s day, their wedding day. Soon there is a flurry of activity as we all get into our wedding clothes. The other young men in the bridegroom’s entourage descend on the house we’re staying in. His future brother-in-law brings breakfast. As we eat, each of us offers the bridegroom some encouraging words. We crack a few jokes. We ask if he’s feeling nervous, but he says he is confident. All that separates him from his beloved is a walk down the aisle. When the time comes, we rush in convoy across town to the chapel. The bridegroom has come.
It’s been a while since I last blogged, and Christmas, a holiday at Jeffreys Bay and much water has flowed under the bridge since our epic trip up to Harare, Zimbabwe for the wedding of two of my friends. Nevertheless, I thought I owed you, friends, an account of how it went up there. It was an amazing time.
I’ll start with the trip up. I flew up from Cape Town to Johannesburg and met Steve and Ros, two of my friends, up there. And that’s where all the fun started. Suffice it to say that entering Park Station in Johannesburg is like entering a parallel universe where African time (and African efficiency) rules. Our bus was one and a half hours late leaving from Joburg, and although the border crossing was fairly smooth, we were five and a half hours late by the time we reached Harare. And that makes 20 hours on a bus. We dubbed it ‘a wedding bus’ because most of the people on it were not in fact Zimbos going home, but South Africans going to different weddings in Zim. Obviously there are more crazy people like us than we thought. We comforted each other through the trip now and then by saying "This is an adventure!" And it was.
So we arrived in Harare at the dodgiest bus depot where you have to cling to all your luggage in case it decides to grow legs, in the rain, while many of our friends were enjoying the bride's kitchen tea and so could not pick us up. Thank God for Ros’s friend’s father who got us out of there to a place where we could sit and plan our next move. There were a few more communication mishaps and no one seemed to know where I was meant to be staying, so our friends Jess and Emma took me back to their family's home, where I slept (fairly comfortably) on the lounge floor.
The next day Ros and one of her Zim contacts came to take us to Danai Children’s Home, to deliver the supplies we had collected in South Africa for the home. That was one of the most joyful experiences of the trip. The children’s home was a normal suburban house and many of the children were away on Christmas holidays, but most of the babies and toddlers were still there. It was great to see that they all looked well-looked-after, despite all the difficulties of keeping a home afloat in Zim’s collapsed economy. Steve and I had a great time playing with the boys, and the staff were hugely grateful for all the nappies, food, clothes and medicines we brought up.
Jess had found out that I was meant to be staying in the house that Jono had borrowed for himself and some of his friends to stay in around the time of the wedding, and so in the evening he drove Steve and me there. It was great to see my old accountability partner John there.
Well, the next day dawned and it was time for the wedding. The service was at the chapel of the private school where Kath and Jess have been teaching, set among beautiful white buildings and lush, green lawns. It was brilliant to meet some old friends in the parking lot outside, people like Bryan and Phiwe. Inside, a little choir of schoolgirls was rehearsing "Take My Life and Let it Be" for the service. The music was wonderful, with our friend Anne playing the piano and two violinists accompanying her. They played "Ode to Joy" as Kath came down the aisle, looking radiant and (as we said to each other later) "very much like Kath". Of course, Jono wasn’t looking shabby either. Jono and Kath had chosen two very apt Bible verses for the ceremony, Romans 12:1-2 and 1 Peter 1:5-7. The minister, an elderly relative of Kath’s, preached a rambling sermon, but one thing stood out clearly: this was no ordinary couple, because they had chosen not to conform themselves to the pattern of this world, but instead to build their relationship around Christ.
The reception was in Kath’s parents’ huge back garden. When we arrived, everyone was standing on the lawn, talking in clumps and sipping punch while waiters walked around with trays of snacks. After a while the rain came down and chased us all under a marquee where tables had been set out for the meal. I was seated at a table with Lauren, Steve, John, and Jerry and Sarah, both of whom I hadn’t seen for a long time, as well as some others.
It was a true wedding feast: the food was so incredible that for a while we found it hard to believe we were in a starving country. For starters there were springbok carpaccio, pâtés and plenty of other things to put on bread. The main course included lamb on the spit, Zanzibar chicken and beef, and there were little brownies and pecan nut pies for dessert, as well as a range of cheeses. Interspersed with this were all the usual speeches and toasts and a litany of thanks for different relatives who had brought up different parts of the meal from South Africa with them.
One of the best things about the reception was that it was long and leisurely, starting at noon and stretching into the evening, allowing plenty of time to catch up with old friends. When many of your guests have come a long, long way for the wedding, you might as well make it last. There was a great vibe as families and friends came up and danced together, and I’m glad to report that Jerry and Steve did an excellent rendition of "The Shower" on the dance floor. Jono and Kath must have left at about 6:30pm, and we left a little later, at 7, to go back to the borrowed house minus the bridegroom and some of the groomsmen who’d been staying there.
As you might have gathered from my intro to this post, I felt many times during the trip as though I were in one of the Bible’s parables about a wedding. One scripture that I identified with a lot was John 3:29-30, where John the Baptist says "A bridegroom’s friend rejoices with him. I am the bridegroom’s friend, and I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less." Of course, the bridegroom he was talking about was Jesus, and his bride is the people he has redeemed, his Church.
Now, the bottom line of this lesson is that it’s not about me. At the wedding it was my friend the bridegroom’s day, and I was there to support him and celebrate with him, not to receive any recognition for myself. I might have spent much time and money getting there and enduring such a hard journey, but I didn't need or deserve any recognition for that, because it was a privilege to be there. In the same way, when we serve God, it’s not about us. We may have sacrificed a lot of time, money and effort to serve, but that’s not the point. The point is that we have the amazing privilege of seeing what God is doing to win people to himself, and partying with him when it happens. Our egos must stay out of the picture. We must never claim any of God’s glory for ourselves.
All in all we had a valuable time in Harare. Among other things, it was good to see for myself in more detail how dire the situation in Zim is, but how people are managing to survive through God's grace alone. Let's keep praying for them! The journey back was just as arduous (and late) as the journey there, but I was back with my family for Christmas, enjoying another celebration as the Bridegroom's friend.
It’s been a while since I last blogged, and Christmas, a holiday at Jeffreys Bay and much water has flowed under the bridge since our epic trip up to Harare, Zimbabwe for the wedding of two of my friends. Nevertheless, I thought I owed you, friends, an account of how it went up there. It was an amazing time.
I’ll start with the trip up. I flew up from Cape Town to Johannesburg and met Steve and Ros, two of my friends, up there. And that’s where all the fun started. Suffice it to say that entering Park Station in Johannesburg is like entering a parallel universe where African time (and African efficiency) rules. Our bus was one and a half hours late leaving from Joburg, and although the border crossing was fairly smooth, we were five and a half hours late by the time we reached Harare. And that makes 20 hours on a bus. We dubbed it ‘a wedding bus’ because most of the people on it were not in fact Zimbos going home, but South Africans going to different weddings in Zim. Obviously there are more crazy people like us than we thought. We comforted each other through the trip now and then by saying "This is an adventure!" And it was.
So we arrived in Harare at the dodgiest bus depot where you have to cling to all your luggage in case it decides to grow legs, in the rain, while many of our friends were enjoying the bride's kitchen tea and so could not pick us up. Thank God for Ros’s friend’s father who got us out of there to a place where we could sit and plan our next move. There were a few more communication mishaps and no one seemed to know where I was meant to be staying, so our friends Jess and Emma took me back to their family's home, where I slept (fairly comfortably) on the lounge floor.
The next day Ros and one of her Zim contacts came to take us to Danai Children’s Home, to deliver the supplies we had collected in South Africa for the home. That was one of the most joyful experiences of the trip. The children’s home was a normal suburban house and many of the children were away on Christmas holidays, but most of the babies and toddlers were still there. It was great to see that they all looked well-looked-after, despite all the difficulties of keeping a home afloat in Zim’s collapsed economy. Steve and I had a great time playing with the boys, and the staff were hugely grateful for all the nappies, food, clothes and medicines we brought up.
Jess had found out that I was meant to be staying in the house that Jono had borrowed for himself and some of his friends to stay in around the time of the wedding, and so in the evening he drove Steve and me there. It was great to see my old accountability partner John there.
Well, the next day dawned and it was time for the wedding. The service was at the chapel of the private school where Kath and Jess have been teaching, set among beautiful white buildings and lush, green lawns. It was brilliant to meet some old friends in the parking lot outside, people like Bryan and Phiwe. Inside, a little choir of schoolgirls was rehearsing "Take My Life and Let it Be" for the service. The music was wonderful, with our friend Anne playing the piano and two violinists accompanying her. They played "Ode to Joy" as Kath came down the aisle, looking radiant and (as we said to each other later) "very much like Kath". Of course, Jono wasn’t looking shabby either. Jono and Kath had chosen two very apt Bible verses for the ceremony, Romans 12:1-2 and 1 Peter 1:5-7. The minister, an elderly relative of Kath’s, preached a rambling sermon, but one thing stood out clearly: this was no ordinary couple, because they had chosen not to conform themselves to the pattern of this world, but instead to build their relationship around Christ.
The reception was in Kath’s parents’ huge back garden. When we arrived, everyone was standing on the lawn, talking in clumps and sipping punch while waiters walked around with trays of snacks. After a while the rain came down and chased us all under a marquee where tables had been set out for the meal. I was seated at a table with Lauren, Steve, John, and Jerry and Sarah, both of whom I hadn’t seen for a long time, as well as some others.
It was a true wedding feast: the food was so incredible that for a while we found it hard to believe we were in a starving country. For starters there were springbok carpaccio, pâtés and plenty of other things to put on bread. The main course included lamb on the spit, Zanzibar chicken and beef, and there were little brownies and pecan nut pies for dessert, as well as a range of cheeses. Interspersed with this were all the usual speeches and toasts and a litany of thanks for different relatives who had brought up different parts of the meal from South Africa with them.
One of the best things about the reception was that it was long and leisurely, starting at noon and stretching into the evening, allowing plenty of time to catch up with old friends. When many of your guests have come a long, long way for the wedding, you might as well make it last. There was a great vibe as families and friends came up and danced together, and I’m glad to report that Jerry and Steve did an excellent rendition of "The Shower" on the dance floor. Jono and Kath must have left at about 6:30pm, and we left a little later, at 7, to go back to the borrowed house minus the bridegroom and some of the groomsmen who’d been staying there.
As you might have gathered from my intro to this post, I felt many times during the trip as though I were in one of the Bible’s parables about a wedding. One scripture that I identified with a lot was John 3:29-30, where John the Baptist says "A bridegroom’s friend rejoices with him. I am the bridegroom’s friend, and I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less." Of course, the bridegroom he was talking about was Jesus, and his bride is the people he has redeemed, his Church.
Now, the bottom line of this lesson is that it’s not about me. At the wedding it was my friend the bridegroom’s day, and I was there to support him and celebrate with him, not to receive any recognition for myself. I might have spent much time and money getting there and enduring such a hard journey, but I didn't need or deserve any recognition for that, because it was a privilege to be there. In the same way, when we serve God, it’s not about us. We may have sacrificed a lot of time, money and effort to serve, but that’s not the point. The point is that we have the amazing privilege of seeing what God is doing to win people to himself, and partying with him when it happens. Our egos must stay out of the picture. We must never claim any of God’s glory for ourselves.
All in all we had a valuable time in Harare. Among other things, it was good to see for myself in more detail how dire the situation in Zim is, but how people are managing to survive through God's grace alone. Let's keep praying for them! The journey back was just as arduous (and late) as the journey there, but I was back with my family for Christmas, enjoying another celebration as the Bridegroom's friend.
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