2 Prayer Requests

Wow!  Life is going by at an astonishing pace right now.  Just just over a week until Christmas.      


Christmas in the Indonesian church, at least the church I am serving at, is very different than Christmas at home.


There are 2 upcoming events that will stretch me.  Sometimes, I can't predict what will stretch me, but in this case, I know beforehand.  The built up has already stretched me.


First, I can't think of the last time I was so terrified and so excited for something as I am for tomorrow.  I will visit a gathering of people with HIV/AIDS.  This is a dream come true for me.  I have always wanted to sit and talk with people whom have AIDS.  At the same time, I am uneasy and uncertain going into this.  There will be children and adults.  Prostitutes and homosexuals.  Gathered together in one home.  


Prayers that I may be able to see and hear Jesus within and among the people I will sit beside.  Prayers that I may have the right words and actions that does not reflect any superiority, cheap charity or pride.  Pray that it may be clear that although I am a white North American, I do not come to bring medicine or money. I come to receive the stories and lives of those whom are highly stigmatized.  I pray that I can discover not their poverty and the chains that bind them, but the poverty and chains in my life that limit the full life that Jesus gives.


Secondly, I am leading a 1.5 hour session at the Youth Leadership Camp for middle-high school youth.  It is about living lives of worship--lives that seek justice.  Like everything I do, it will be in Indonesian, which is the first challenge.  The second, is that I have used words like justice so much through university, that it is a challenge for me know how to communicate that  to high school youth.  The third, is that I want to be creative, which always runs the risk of not working well. But with the other possibility that it is awesome.  So I have created different creative ways of communicating what I could say in a speech.  


Pray that I may communicate well and that my time will help create church leaders whom seek lives that love their neighbor--lives of worship.  


Pray that the youth may engage the material and be inspired to become leaders that will worship fully--which will lead other to worship fully as well.   


Thanks for prayers.  I had to deal with an intense morning of homesickness that other day.  But I take that emotion as a good and beautiful thing.  Miss you all!      

Where will you be next year?

This is from my article to the King's University College Newspaper......

“Take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy. Be challenged. Learn some things. Teach some things. Spend a year living somewhere that you never dreamed you'd go.” 

This is the tag-line for the SALT program.

Most definitely, all of the above mentioned promises for the SALT program have come true.

They could come true to you as well.

Now is the time for YOU to consider going on SALT program for 2012-2013. 

I never imagined I would be eating exotic fruit and harvesting onions between some rice paddies (like I did today) a year ago. 

Life is not always a picnic here eating some fruit and pulling a few onions.

This is no 2 week missions trip.

This is no vacation.

This is no polished poverty alleviation program.

This is no what you will imagine it will be like.

This is not predictable.

This is not polished.

This is not comfortable.

This is not being effective in the Western sense of that word.

This is not failure free.  It’s failure ridden.

There are positions for those interested and gifted with teaching, pasturing, engineering, farming.  There are positions in the deserts of Jordan, the rice paddies of Indonesia and the Savannah of Kenya. 

No one has the same experience within this same program.  So there are no guarantees for what will happen or how you will change. 

But you will change.

Your world will change.

Your relationship to God will change.

Your relationship to others will change.

But God will not change.  




Oh yah...did I mention your food will change?  Just finished up a plate of fluffy rice and with a  sprinkle of small fish heads.  With the coaching of my fellow pastors.  

Want to go?  Have questions.

check out: salt.mcc.org

email me: Jason_k_horlings@hotmail.com

Picture this.

Outside her home, I am with the mother of the sick child (that child is not in the photo) which I referred to in the previous post.  The mother earns $8 a day rolling cigarettes for a cigarette company.  The co-owners of the company have $11 billion. We talked about that.  

After breaking it down for a while.....I looked around.....and there were people pulled over on the road behind me watching.

Jason's first encounter with cobra went like this.....while the cobra handler looks on unphased.  I guess, it was only hissing and lunging so why not just sit back and have a smoke. 

And then why not kill and then eat the cobra.....i took a pass on the cobra blood mixed with the gall bladder and spinal cartilage.

 Rambutan (a fruit).....how I love you.

Picking some duku fruit with my koran/Arabic teacher.  Forever grateful that I had to learn Indonesian and not Arabic.....and not sure why I would attempt to learn a new language from a man who knows no English.  But it's been a blessing already.  Assalamu alaikum....

I spent a good 10 minutes in pursuit of this lizard....so you better enjoy it!

While this bug, was much more photo friendly.  Guess what plant it is on? Hint: I eat it three times a day.

Door-to-door communion with a pastor and a few other church members was powerful.  It is for those unable to come to church because of health issues.  I have never been in such a small dirty house, maybe 3 meters wide with her bed in front of you when you step through the front door.  We did communion with her on her bed--there is something amazing about doing communion with someone right in the messiness and reality of life.

Walking to another home to do communion, and a fan club started with these school kids.

50 meters from my home, this is the street market.  I declined the attempted sale of a live catfish today.

I journey with the Evangelism group at church ( led by one of my mothers) to a city 5 hours away.  We had a church service with this recently baptized Chinese traditional fortune teller/healer.  

I guess I need a blue shirt, the plaid red shirt just doesn't help me cause in Indonesia.  Here are many of the young adults, celebrating 6 years of there program "Vox Reformata" ( Voice of Reformation).  Mennonite or Christian Reformed?  The lined is very blurred here.  

"May God bless you with a restless discomfort"

To use the analogy of an airplane taking off, beginning to soar, but hitting a little bit of turbulence, would not be far off to how the past 2 weeks have gone.

Every single day over these 2 weeks I can point to a unique and amazing experience.      

The previous blog post is about one of those.

Here is another.

I have made visiting a specific neighbor’s home a spiritual discipline for me.  Sometimes, maybe often, when we practice spiritual disciples they become predictable and comfortable.

It was my 4^th time to visit the family and the surrounding homes; it seemed that nothing was going to make it different from the rest. 

I showed up with kids running circles around me, but this time with my bike—so there was added excitement.  Oh, and when I say kids, I mean 30 of them.   

The mother of the home, immediately asked me to come into the home.  This is quite unusual. Those who don’t have homes like the middle and high-income Indonesians, they are very hesitant to allow you in to see inside the house.

So I entered the home in some apprehension since it was odd.

It was dark, the floor was concrete and the walls were a brick with a few simple pieces of furniture sprinkled through out.  By far the most materially poor home I have been too.  

The mother brought me to a bedroom and there was a baby lying on it.

It didn’t look normal or healthy.  In a terrible moment, I actually thought it was dead.

I looked for breathing and found it—and was relieved.

The 3-year-old child’s head was grossly large and its eyes seemed completely lost.

At one point, the mother turned the baby over.  She pulled back the shirt allowing me to see the child’s back.  I braced for what was to come, but it was worse than I imagined.   My eyes came upon a bulging tumor-like mass of red raw looking fleshes the size of my fist.  It completely shocked me.

It distressed me.

In painful words the mother explained the sickness and here inability to pay for the cure. 

The burden of working and having 5 children.

The burden having to give special care for the child.

She was distressed and angry at the situation.

Understanding most, but not all of what the mother was saying.

I played with the child’s toes and touched its soft skin.

Than she asked me my most feared question.

“Can you give money to us?”

What do you say to that?

I didn’t have money to give at that moment.

I also didn’t want to promise money.

But God gave me some words.

He said that you have something even greater to offer her, weather you eventually do or don’t offer money.

I told her in discomfort.

“I want to come at least once a week.

I want to visit the child every time I come.

I want to know if things are getting better or worse for you and the child.”

I didn’t know what else to say. 

Relationship is the best gift I can offer.  Sharing.  Listening.  Being in agony with her.

Something more happen there as well. 

Often, I feel deeply disconnected here.  I feel like there are different worlds which I enter in and out of.  Church is one world.  The mosque and Islam was another.  The poor is another.  The affluent is another world. 

This relationship with this family has defied all the boundaries between religion and wealth. There is a sense that we are on a journey together not marked by the categories that mar so much of life.  Walking not ahead or behind each other, but along side each other.  

The next day I collapsed into tears of frustration, agony and disappointment.  I was angry at the situation.  Frustration at the disconnect.  Disappointed at the church—not just here, everywhere.  I struggled to reconcile that experience with my faith and the church.  And I still struggle to.

Praises:

--For meeting neighbors like my above story

--The relationship between myself and my mothers is strengthen a lot this past week

--I am able to contribute to the pastor’s meeting far more than before.

--God’s teaching me cultural understanding, forgiveness and demanding more intimacy

--I am very comfortable around the 2 pastors I work with the most.  We generally laugh at each other lots.

--Far more relaxed about my pastoral position here and what my time each day looks like

--For tough questions from little Muslim kids “Why are you a Christian?”    I had no idea how to answer that question in a way that made sense to a 10-year-old Muslim.  Sure made me think lots.

--For joy.  I had plenty of it this week.

Concerns:

-- Getting so busy that I lose what God is saying and doing here.  Not rushing my experience here is important and will be hard.

-- Hitting a language plateau because I can get around just fine with the words I know

-- For my doubt, frustration and questions with church to lead me to have visions about transformation, that I can act of God's voice in this regard and that these struggles lead me to realize my own shortcomings and assumptions.

--I have stomach flu as I sit here and write this.  But this has been shockingly rare for me.  Praise God!

I have had these great intentions to write letters and stay in touch with more of you than I have so far.  I will strive to make these intentions more of a reality.  So thank-you for constant emails, face book messages, and mail.  Yesterday I got mail from someone I would never imagine getting mail from.  Completely amazed and humbled by those who think and pray for me.

Here is a Franscian blessing that I put next to my bed.  I read it every day.  Truly relevant in regards to my story.

"May God bless you with a restless discomfort 
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.



May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.



May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may
reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done."

Idul Adha (with photos)

I woke up Sunday morning and headed off to the neighborhood mosque.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into...

I wandered through pools of blood,

on the spectacular white floors.

Awkwardly of course

I then try to sit cross-legged like an Indonesian, but the result is nothing pretty.

I smell….whatever that mixture of blood, meat and guts smell like.

I nervously pick up a knife.

I am told to grab a chunk of freshly slaughter meat.

Then a helpful man cracks a smile.

I nearly amputate his fingers before he corrects my horrible butchering skills.

Two other men try to understand why with them on such an important day.

Everyone else takes a glance, then they need to take a second glance, and then they continue on chopping, sawing, pulling the buffalo.

Continuing sitting, I tear, cut and well…..

Just love to put my fingers in the rich red meat.

I move up and go over to talk to a man whom seems to know a lot.

We talk over hot tea and some rice wrapped in a newspaper.

Religion, culture and weather were some of our favorite topics.

A crowd of children, women storm the entrance.

Hands reached out in desperation.

Bodies squished against each other.

Security has to push back against the surge of beggars.

This is Idul Adha

Celebrated by the Muslims to remember the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice Ishmael

At a mosque

With an imam

In Indonesia

On a Sunday Morning

Unforgettable. 

Jason in complete confusion.

I am not sure who was more scared.  Me or the poor guy holding the other half of meat?

A little stack of buffalo meat with some intestines on top....ready for distribution in the surrounding community.

You understand what I mean that my legs are a little of the awkward side.  The Imam and I enjoying rice.

The Rhythm of Life

It happened in one of my most hated places—big box stores. 

After fumbling my way through a conversation with someone in customer service, I completed my small, but highly necessary purchase.

Then came the wait.  A long wait.  Boredom set in.  Wandering the isles of the store increased with my rise of restlessness. 

I know of few things that trigger grumpiness more than having to wait for someone to select weather than want 1-inch heels or 3-inch heels.  In fuchsia or teal?  With poka-dots or Barbie print?  To take 1 hour or to take 2 hours?

It irritates me for a number of reasons.  But one of them was quite revealing to me—and I hope you as well.

My frustration with a lack of doing overcame me.

I came across an ocean to get here.  The last thing I want to do is wait for someone to choose weather glitter on high heels is hot fashion right now.  The last thing I want to do was stop being productive; stop being effective, stop talking. 

But I had no other choice.  I was bound to my shopping captors for a way out.  I nearly ran outside and danced in the rain.  Then I asked a question that I don’t ask enough, “How age appropriate would that be?”  So I resisted the urge.  I sat down.

I sat and thought.  I sat and read.  On a bench between the Puma shoes and the Nevada jeans.

I want to do stuff.  Be apart of a club.  Join a program.  Plan an event.  Feed a meal to the poor.  Hear the life of a Muslim.  Be taught about the socio-economic dynamics of Asia’s economic rise.  Yah, I’m that nerdy.  

I want to wake up go none-stop all day and then do it all over again the next—that has not been the case here.  Although it can be tiring, it is satisfy also to go non-stop.  I feel good to be apart of so much. I can tell someone else about all the things I do.  It also feels like I am living God’s call in Micah 6:8 “to act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

When life is like this, the last thing you can call me is apathetic.

Doing justice.  Doing all the wonderful things that you can do at King’s cannot be sustained by a day-after-day pursuit of endless action.

Doing justice.  Doing ministry.  Loving others starts with, is sustained by and ends with rest—Sabbath keeping.  The book, The Dangerous Act of Worship by Mark Labberton, has helped me see this the clearest.   I opened this book in the middle of the store that afternoon. 

Doing Sabbath means that life is centered back to God.  Our pursuits during the week are set aside to renew the freeing reality that our lives, our activities, this world does not belong to us, but to God.  Doing justice is God’s work, we are simply invited to join what God is already doing. 

Here in Indonesia, the slow pace to life and the lack of immediate activities for me to fill my schedule can irritate me.  And it does.  I think, “I want tell someone that I did many things today, then if I didn’t to much and then this day was not worth that much.”  But, that is the point.  Keeping Sabbath means not doing anything except remembering and practicing trust in God who is God over all.  Keeping Sabbath can mean doing it on Sunday or another day, or making it something that is intertwined throughout your week. Israel had a year of Sabbath—maybe this year will that for me.

I feel unsettled right now.  Yesterday, I had a day full of activities that I could report to you about. But, I wasn’t even able to talk with my host family yesterday.  That led to a healthy conversation on my priorities. I like doing more than resting.

The afternoon among those racks of shirts and piles of shoes, I learned something about my appetite for doing.  I also learned something my appetite for being in the Lord’s presence and resting.  I got a wake-up call.  I needed it.  Do you?