Two years ago today, I returned from a six-month trip through Southern Africa. While the trip was fruitful and goals were accomplished, Africa caught me by surprise.

Many of us [most of us, I assume] have had glimmers of fantasy concerning Africa. We imagine ourselves holding orphaned black children, dancing to beating drums around fires, and preaching to the masses. In such fantasies, we look rugged. Men, we have beards and dirt on our faces. Women, you have your hair pulled back and a long skirt on. Such reveries are common.

When we see Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Oprah, Madonna, and Bono performing their various humanitarian exploits in such an iconic fashion, it’s only natural to desire to do the same. We can’t help it. [Messiah Complex is contagious].

The reality I returned with on February 15, 2008 was completely different than the fantasy I developed when purchasing airfare, reading travel guides, and packing bags. Although I had once before visited Africa, it was only for two weeks. A measly two weeks, I now concur.

While still at the airport, with friends and family wishing “safe travels” and “bon voyage,” my excitement was difficult to contain. I was absorbed in romanticism. Six months, I thought, would be far too short–– only a whetting of my appetite for the continent. Little did I know, however, that those six months would be some of the most wearisome (emotionally, physically, and spiritually) months of my life.

My friend Cam and I travelled to many corners of Southern Africa–– through Malawi, Mozambique, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Our trip was filled with adventure, joy, and ministerial success.

And mundaneness.

And loneliness.

And feebleness.

And disappointment.

Being the dangerously optimistic person that I am, many of my expectations were unmet at the consummation of our trip. The satisfaction I had hoped for (through opportunities at heroism, benevolence, and conditional contentment) was hardly obtained… When I returned home, there was still a void inside.

I’ve concluded that I was jaded by the common romanticized portrayal of Africa. I had unrealistic expectations of the continent. I thought I’d live happily ever after on red soil in the company of smily black people, enjoying beautiful sunsets, exotic wildlife, soccer, and mangoes. (Naïvety at its finest). The same emptiness that I sought to fill during my African expedition haunted me on February 15, 2008.

The weeks and months that followed my return to the States were crucial. It was up to me to work up another hankering to fill that lingering void. It was my job to grapple with expectations unmet and dreams unfulfilled. In that season, I found a Man who could help me with this. He affirmed me, mending my broken places. He gave to my heart a certain balm, anointing, to help it recover. He plundered my negative thoughts and feelings of disappointment. And I rallied to victory, gaining fresh perspective.

So, this is my counsel to any and all who dream of third-world long-term ministry: look to Jesus to fulfill your dreams. Don’t allow Africa (nor Asia, Europe, Oceania, South America, urban America) obliterate your expectations, because it (they) will. To all who are allured by understaffed orphanages and remote villages: be wooed by God, not the transformation nor revolutionization of those places. To all who dream of happiness amidst poverty and shoddy conditions: fantasize of happiness with Jesus, regardless of setting. Conditions, cultures, heroism, charity, travel, and people in and of themselves will never (ever) satisfy you.

[If I'm coming across as burnt out/ regretful/ let down, I'm getting my point across].

That’s what I learned on my trip to Africa.

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A BRIEF LESSON ON RELATIONSHIPS (of all types, shapes, sizes, and colors)

[Oh boy. Is this ambitious? A yet-to-be-married 21-year-old is about to offer the World Wide Web a lesson on relationships. Ambitious and premature, I say. You could probably get much better relational advice elsewhere, but here goes nothing...]

Since being in my relationship with my fiancé Bethany, I’ve learned a lot–– about myself, mostly. And I’m grateful for this. Though I’ve seen more of my ugliness than I ever knew existed, I never would have discovered it outside of the context of relationship. Relationships are one of God’s favorite contexts for refinement.

Early on in my relationship with Bethany (before the pet names had been decided or I passed gas in front of her), the Holy Spirit taught me something very important–– to reverse my pointer. Rather than granting myself immunity from wrongdoing, I began to question myself each time I was offended, irritated, or upset with her (which, being the gem she is, was very rare). I chose not to point the finger at her but, instead, learned to point it at myself.

When she would repeatedly forget the same lyric to the song she sung in the car, she wasn’t forgetting intentionally. She wasn’t trying to annoy me. The truth of the matter was that I was short-fused and easily-annoyed. I had an impatience problem which needed to be dealt with much more urgently than her lyric-forgetting problem did. I had no grounds to correct her. She was doing nothing wrong. When I reversed my pointer and examined myself I found that I was the wrongdoer, not her.

After experiencing initial success with this, I began applying it to my other relationships. Whenever a negative emotion arose toward another, I would delay my reaction and double check that I had the proper grounds to react in whatever way I was inclined. And, nearly every time, I discovered that I was much more guilty than the particular person with whom I was offended. My offense at the person was usually rooted in my [pride/ impatience/ orneriness/ coarseness/ you-name-it-ness] much more than it was the other’s action.

Over time, I was shocked to find that I was more ill-willed than I could have ever imagined and those around me were more well-meaning than I ever would have assumed. “Why the victim mentality?” I began to ask myself. How could I always be the right one? How could I always be the one who was wronged? Impossible! That’s a ridiculous notion! In fact, when I took a step backward, I was almost never right. Not once was I able to justify my offense. For, the behavior which most often offends me is usually mostly subconscious and sincere.

Much of my biblical ammunition for this concept came from Paul’s teaching to the Philippian church. “Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit,” he says, “But in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.” (Excerpt from Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians).

I’ve begun to esteem the intentions of Bethany and others better than those of my own. I’ve reversed the pointer finger back at myself, first double checking my sincerity. Usually, I’m self-seeking. Usually, I consider my preference superior to those around me. And, in doing this, I’m acting through conceit–– which Paul warns against.

Now, I’m far from having it together. It’s not as if this understanding is a magical fix-all. It hasn’t been the universal cure for all of my relational problems. It hasn’t brought comprehensive relational harmony. I still fail. I commonly forget Paul’s exhortation. Out of habit, I react too quickly to a situation which ruffles me. However, I’ve been unable to form a good argument against this principle. If I do happen to pipe up and try to justify myself against it (i.e. “Yeah, but he/she…”), I end up scapegoating another to do so.

I want to go as low as possible. I’ll never regret humility. Never. The Lord is too good to mislead me that way. If He recommends humility, I must trust Him.

As Mike Bickle once said, “Lord, shock me now, not later.” Let’s have the same attitude.

[not very] Sincerely,

-a wretched, selfish, backbiting, arrogant, ambitious young man named Jules

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