Just a Curbside Prophet

Today, my car broke down.

Not that this is really groundbreaking news. Or even news worthy of posting on my blog. I mean, granted, you are presumably reading this blog because you care about me, so maybe this news warrants a sympathetic shoulder-pat or a knowing nod of solidarity. But 3 hours and $100 dollars later, my car and I returned home just fine. A blow to my time and resources, yes, but nothing that will really change my life. But the story continues...

Today, my car broke down, and I was mad.

Mad because I was all the way out in Mechanicsville when this happened. Mad because I had a neatly-organized schedule for the day that quickly fell to pieces. Mad because I was sitting outside and it was nearing 100 degrees. But mostly mad because I had been deprived of something to which I felt "entitled." I expected a safe, easy, and relatively cool trip home and lunch. I got intense heat, a car that could barely even hold a charge once it was jumped, and no lunch.

It's a funny thing, this American sense of entitlement. I would say it's a negative by-product of the individualistic, capitalist society in which we live. (Please excuse me for speaking in generalizations -- I know this is not the case for every American and that there are many outside of Western culture that also feel this sense of entitlement. These are just the reflections that have been floating through my head.) We believe that if we want something and work hard enough for it, we will eventually have it. More so, we deserve to have it. And when, for one reason or another, we don't get what we "deserve," we become, as I became today, filled with this sense of "righteous anger."

However, I must remember that I don't necessarily "deserve" an easy trip home. On a global level, I am one of the fortunate few with personal access to a nice, well-functioning car. And who am I to complain about missing a meal when 13% of the world population is hungry or malnourished? Why am I so set on getting my car back in working order when I know that the gases it emits are contributing to the crisis of Global Warming that, unless a radical change is made in the next 10 years, will seriously hinder the well-being of future generations?

I'll step down from the soapbox, as there are other things I want to address in this post as well, but I'll leave you with this thought: I feel very personally convicted to try to free myself from my sense of entitlement and also from the things to which I feel entitled. There are so many other ways in which my "righteous anger" could be put to better use. I encourage you, if you feel so called, to do the same. As the keynote speakers at the Montreat Youth Conference told us, "Find something worth being angry at." As a Christian living in a broken world, I have much more to be concerned about than a car that won't start.

There's a bit more to my story.

Today, my car broke down, and I was mad, so I set on the curb for an hour finishing Henri Nouwen's book ¡Gracias!

(Now we get to the title of this post. It's from the song "Curbside Prophet" by Jason Mraz, a singer/songwriter from, ironically enough, Mechanicsville, VA! Small world.)

I mentioned this book in my first post, but to recap, it's a journal of Nouwen's thoughts and experiences throughout the six months he spends in Bolivia and Peru. I enjoyed the book more than I had initially expected to - it turns out Nouwen worked with liberation theology more than I had expected and was fortunate enough to have several instances of personal contact with Gustavo Gutierrez himself. Having written an honors thesis (read it online!) about liberation theology at the College of William and Mary, it was very enlightening and affirming to read the personal journal of someone who experienced personally much of what I spent the last year researching.

What struck me today, however, was Nouwen's journal entry from March 5, 1982, about why people go into mission service. Nouwen writes:

"Why do people become missioners?...This question has no simple answer. A desire to serve Christ unconditionally, an urge to help the poor, an intellectual interest in another culture, the attraction of adventure, a need to break away from family, a critical insight into the predicament of one's own country, a search for self-affirmation -- all of these and many other motives can be part of the making of a missioner...[However], the two most damaging motives in the makeup of missioners seem to be guilt and the desire to save. Both form the extremes of a long continuum, both make life in the mission extremely painful" (Nouwen, 161).

With less than three weeks until I leave the country, the question of "why?" is extremely relevant and feels very pressing. Several of Nouwen's motives hit home, others, I feel, don't apply to me as much. The best answer I know to the question of "why" is "How could I possibly do anything else?" In a broken and unjust world, how can I dedicate my life to anything less than love and justice? When it feels like God is light years away, how can I do anything but offer up my self as a place where God can come near to others? With a passion for social justice, young people, Latin America, and liberation theology, what other path could I take right now? I suppose this is a glimpse of what we in the church like to call a "calling." And let me just say, from my own experience, that calling is a lot messier, more confusing, and sometimes more troubling than most like to admit.

I am struck also by what Nouwen calls the "most damaging motives of missioners": guilt and the desire to save. He goes on to say that no "missioner" (I don't particularly like that word...it's awkward) is ever free from either of these, they are both natural human responses to brokenness, but that we must continually strive to let God replace these motives with others that are more pure and constructive.

I certainly agree with Nouwen that guilt and a desire to save propel many people into service, and I certainly recognize that both can be damaging and distract from the main purpose of serving God through serving others. However, I am reluctant to let go of either of them. While guilt can surely weigh you down, I feel like a certain amount of guilt for my current extravagant lifestyle will help me honor my commitment to live simply. And while a desire to save and "play God" in a situation will lead to harmful pride, egoism, potentially bigotry, and disappointment when we inevitably fail at our "saving" mission, I think that converted into a desire to do everything possible to empty myself and serve others, this also can be a very helpful and Christ-like motivation to service.

Who knows? Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps in a few months, I will know all too well what Henri Nouwen meant when he said these motives were damaging. Or perhaps we disagree about the morality and usefulness of these two motives. Only time will tell. For now, all I can say is that I am embarking on a year of mission service in Peru because there is nothing else I can see myself doing. I am wholly called to the year to come.

Today, my car broke down. Who knows what it will be tomorrow. Maybe one day, I'll get out of bed and have the spiritual strength to walk.