Funny Stories

(Editor’s Note: the author’s name and location have been left out for security reasons)

I like to read funny stories about religion. My life is one big funny story. I live in a country where it is illegal to proselytize and ultimately illegal to be a member of any religion but the one that governs the country. It is a religion that is in the news a lot. It is a religion that many of my compatriots living here describe as dark, oppressive, evil; not really an axis, per se, but rather they see it as a ”machine” rolling toward a hellish finish line.

I am caught in the middle between some well-meaning but sometimes two-dimensional Christians and millions of nationals for whom changing religion would be like cutting off an arm. The man who chose to do just that while hiking alone in Utah made that horrifying choice after an unmovable bolder had fallen and rested on his arm; not an everyday occurrence and not one most people look for.

The humor arrives almost daily as the eager foreigners sent out with grandiose fanfare from their home churches confidently interpret the behavior and even the words of the national people. When I hear a sentence beginning with:

“”The people in this country think…”” or,
“”These people always do…”” or,
“”People here believe…,””

I know that I”ll have to either zone out mentally or just casually extricate myself from the conversation because it is not really worth my energy to try and present another viewpoint. Usually the people would not have come to this continent if another viewpoint was wanted.

Conversely, when I hear a guest in this country say: “”the longer I live here, the less I know…”” then I know I”m talking with someone who will not only enjoy living here but actually make friends and perhaps be able to clearly explain his location on the spiritual journey we all make on this planet.

When I meet people from ”abroad” who think that getting on an airplane, watching two in-flight movies, and transferring at a European airport to an airline that will landing on exotic soil, will somehow cause metamorphosis into something other than the person they were in the States, I want to choke on my local tea or perhaps even smoke without inhaling some local plants.

If someone loses his temper in Texas, he”s probably going to lose it in another country; in fact, faster. If someone has a critical attitude in Oklahoma, she”s probably going to have one in her new surroundings, probably worse. If someone struggles with temptations of the flesh in Virginia, those same temptations will travel along with their luggage to their destination. The most powerful and genuine Christians are those who accept the challenge of their humanity while opening up their hearts to people they encounter wherever they find themselves: at home, abroad, or in the air.

The trip over might be that first experience into the unknown world of ”me in a different context.” When the plane”s lavatory is covered in an inch of water or some clearish liquid, and you”ve walked to the lavatory in your luxurious tube socks that came out of the sealed plastic bag received in economy class, the sacrificial ”all-for-God-to-save-an-entire-country” seems far removed. Your audible grumblings about ”uncivilized people groups” is in sharp contrast to the ”mission” challenge you were delivering last Sunday evening before you boarded the plane.

Well, you think: perhaps, the magical transformation into a never angry, always loving and tolerant giver of life, will be evident once you”ve actually arrived in the country. Perhaps the nationals on the plane returning to their homeland are not a good representation of the people. I”m sure my love for ”the people” will be more than enough to not only make me forget the things that drive me nuts but also to win them over! Fat chance.

An anecdote: for the past several years, there have been ”teams” (always be wary of this word involving foreigners) who have come over for a week or two to generously pass out videos and books, including comic books, to the hundreds of thousands of nationals returning from their country of ”work” to their home country for a month-long vacation. At the end of that month-long vacation, the rested souls are met again by perhaps a different ”team” to receive yet another parcel of ”free gifts.”

(It goes without saying that the marriage of ”comics” and religion might trivialize an eternal concept to a certain extent. But to some religions, it does more than that; perhaps you”ve heard about the recent ”misunderstanding” between a country that published some cartoons that portrayed religious figures and a very BIG religion of the world! Suffice it to say that off the bat, cartoon characters might not be the best way to present OUR religious figures to that part of the world.)

The books and videos ”with a message” would be difficult to take into the travelers” home country and impossible to pass out so openly. However, the ”teams” ostensibly get permission from a neighboring country”s authorities to freely distribute these materials to the weary travelers just as they board the final means of transportation to take them to the home of their birth, culture and of course, religion.

You may ask yourself ”why” do these teams do this? Well, it is certainly easier than actually sitting down, making a friend, keeping up with a friend, explaining what is in the book and video. But, more than that, they rely on the time tested statistic that salespeople have been using for years, including our unwelcome spammers. “”If I send out 5,000,000 spam message, statistics prove that I will get at least some responses.”” So, there you have it: if I pass out millions of videos and books, sales statistics show that I will get some responses. I cannot play omnipotent and tell you that God cannot use this ”formula” or this ”sales strategy” and reach through it to touch a life. But I can tell you that it doesn”t represent the powerful miraculous incarnational message that I believe and live each day. We live a message, and I believe that message includes a touch of humanity.

One fated summer, as we were returning to our country of residence on the ill-planned weekend of thousands of other people, we were annoyed to find ourselves in long unorganized lines of cars; annoyed to find no clear schedule for the transportation; and no communication whatsoever about what was going on. Had we metamorphosed after leaving the states and arriving on a new continent we would have faced this frustrating and cross-cultural experience with joy and praise songs. However, we found ourselves still packaged in our same vessel of humanity; still struggling with sin so we grumbled and complained and looked for solutions. We did acknowledge to each other (2 adults and some kids) that it would make a nice story later. But at the time, we were very annoyed.

We parked our car, along with 10000s of other cars in a what we were hoping was a line to the correct ferry, and all piled out of the car. Why we were walking around on a dirty, crowded dockside is not clear to me at this point in time but I”m going to go with: looking for a restroom. (Watch for my upcoming guide on ”tolerable” restrooms throughout parts of Europe and other continents).

As we walked along the concrete dock area, I suddenly realized that what I was slipping on was discarded and now slippery pages and papers from Christian books and comic books. The sidewalk area alongside the port seemed to be collaged with colorful papers. Litter? Well, yes, I guess so; unwanted ”gifts”: definitely. Rolling our eyes, but not really thinking too hard about it, we dealt with urgent issues: restrooms and somehow moving up in the line to get on the ferry to get home.

Several days later, maybe weeks, when the entire travel experience was but a bad dream and would soon become ”conversation filler” for dull dinner parties with expats, I was hosting some good friends for coffee. The summer was over; kids back in school, time to catch up. These friends were nationals; not Americans; not other foreigners.

Friend: Oh, Sandra (pretend that is my name), you won”t believe what happened to us when we were returning from ”previously mentioned neighboring country” after our vacation?!

Me: (hmmm….I”m getting some returning images of wet muddy comic books) what?

Me: ..hmmm…right…of course….people forget that all of the world doesn”t think and act just like they do…oh well…I”m sure if you met them and talked they would be very friendly and interested in you and your country..

Another project; another huge sum of money spent on a ”ministry”, another friendship not made; another team member returning home to show slides and tearfully recount miraculous results.

At the end of the day, I have to ask myself: what kinds of people do I like visiting my country? What kinds of people do I like befriending my children; inviting my children into their homes? What kind of people do I like inviting me over for dinner?

And I have to answer: genuine people; real people. In other words, people for whom I”m not a project or a target; just not a comfortable position: someone”s bull”s-eye or the final step on an action plan. Maybe we have too many action plans, formulas, objectives. Maybe we need to start living.