I haven’t visited our blog since I was last “compelled” to muse about something, and seeing its sad shape now, I notice it could really use some revamping: more pictures, more dynamic and useable layout, maybe even a few videos. And after I post these thoughts I’ll forget all about it until by chance I have an engrossing conversation with someone or Tiffany takes some more outstanding photos or Clyde Antwine reminds me of the importance of keeping readers informed, and then I’ll return and again complain about the rather lackluster layout.
And on this note of “oughts”: loads of things are happening, so be looking for our newsletter in, say, the next few weeks.
Two conversations have really helped me understand something about people. I spoke with a friend who is not a native English speaker over a year ago about language, culture and relationships. We were talking about the many difficulties in personal (especially romantic) relationships between people from different language and cultural backgrounds. To my friend, language and culture are the means by which a person processes and expresses emotion, and a partner or spouse must be able to communicate on such a high level to maintain the kind of relationship that nurtures a marriage. Therefore, the language and cultural identities between two people must be somewhat similar, so that they can “really talk.” (I think this plays out practically, for example, in Tiff’s ability to ‘read’ me emotionally).
But this presumes an innate disconnection between people, such that culture and language are unifying, rather than dividing elements. So today I was speaking with my friend Amanda, who is an American married to a German man. I asked her what it’s like, being married to someone whose cultural and linguistic background differs so much from hers. This is what she told me (as best as I can remember): ”Listen, my husband grew up in the communist GDR and was raised essentially athiest, while I, of course, grew up in the ‘free world,’ speaking English and going to church every week. We could not have come from two more different worlds.” And Amanda’s not really very unique; Many of our good friends have spouses from other countries and cultures, and–as Sarah says–it’s all golden. Why? Because language and culture and the entire architecture of our identities don’t change the fact that we’re all human.
This commonality, this humanness, gives mission work its chance to succeed. We’ll never move beyond being tourists if we are unable to break down cultural barriers and meet people for who they really are. Language doesn’t matter, as long as we can circumvent the problems that language causes in our abilities to relate to each other (also called, “not having a clue what the other person is saying”). So we must learn German, and we must learn about German culture, and we must know how to recognize our Americanness and their Germaness so that we can get passed all this and really start that work of being friends.
