Today is the first anniversary of my return from my 20-month stay in Kenya. It was a formative time in my life, and it undoubtedly changed my worldview fundamentally.
But coming back to the US was much harder than going to Kenya in the first place. I said this today to a friend, and didn't realize the truth of it until I heard it from my own lips.
See, when you're going to another country you expect everything to be different. When I first went to Kenya I expected nothing to be the same as it was back home, and it greatly eased my transition there. Not to say that my life was easy in Kenya. Oh, no, the culture shock came much later when I dealt with deep root issues, rather than the surface customs and language issues.
But none of this compares to the reverse culture shock... the shock of returning. The shock of coming home, and finding that it's no longer home.
Has America changed? Yes. But I have changed more. I am less patient with our cultural obsession with the little things, and I want always to find the bottom line. I've ceased to care about our minor theological disagreements, and strive to see the Gospel preached and lived out in the lives of Christians. I've found that so many aspects of my life before no longer matter. I do not try to maintain thin, shallow, meaningless acquaintances. I strive to develop deep, accountable relationships where we foster the love of Christ deeply in each other's lives.
US culture seems to revolve around maintaining a cloud of shallow relationships, which we can then use or ignore as we see fit. Our individualism cripples us from real community or accountability, and prevents us from being truly honest with each other.
In the film "Anchorman" (which you probably shouldn't see, but which I was forced to, because it's based in my hometown, San Diego), the main character at one point says to a woman, "I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal." How poignantly this illustrates what I've come to see at the REAL, the foundational American dream. The reason we desire a decent job and a family with 2.4 kids, a nice car, and a house with a white picket fence is that it communicates to the people around us that we are "kind of a big deal". It tells them that we've achieved success, and that for this reason we deserve their respect.
The American Dream is simply a cry for attention-- a deep-seated desire to matter to someone. What we're really saying is, "Pay attention to me! I'm valuable as an individual!"
We've lost grasp of our identity because we've become so individualized. Fix your own problems. Deal with your own issues. Support yourself. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Don't depend on anyone. Don't ask for help. Don't whine about your troubles.
But this is not the Gospel in Scripture. This is not the way of the followers of Jesus. We are called to be One Church, not a church of ones. To be interdependent, not independent. But all the people I meet, Christians especially, feel so utterly alone.
And when we are alone, we cannot be a church.
So, as I recover from returning to the US, and from the breakup that left me wondering if I'll always be alone in a romantic sense, I realize that the loneliness in my life has nothing to do with romantic company. It has everything to do with the lack of people with whom I can be real, be honest, be accountable.
God has provided me with several close friends with whom I can be real, and who do value me.
To you friends: Deanne, Andrea, Brad, Dave S, Ben, Daniel, and Sharee, thank you for being there.
I encourage you who read this to seek out Godly friends as well, because it is only together that we can be the living, functioning Body of Christ.
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