chris and becka warner

Today we found a chameleon (it’s been an entertaining week with all these animals around!). Many people here are taught from a young age that chameleons are dangerous. They believe that if a person is bitten by one, only that person’s grandmother can heal the wound. The result of this superstition, and others like it, is that chameleons and other animals are usually killed on the spot or treated with a wary distaste. This is not uncommon in many places in the world, but what interests me is that this is done by Christians and non-Christians alike. There is no debate here over whether or not conservation is a moral issue; there’s not even a discussion, period. It’s just not a consideration for most people. Pray, go to church, sing some songs, kill whatever moves on the way home. This aggravates me, to say the least. But we should not judge, lest we be judged. There was a day not so long ago (yesterday? or is it still today?) when many evangelicals in America believed that global warming was a creation of the “evil” left to distract us from the “real” issues, namely abortion, homosexuality, and keeping a Republican in office. We pray, go to church, sing some songs, and wash it all down with coffee in Styrofoam cups before driving home in our SUVs; all the while oblivious to environmental issues. When confronted on our appalling lack of concern for creation, we justify our behavior by claiming that we are focusing on the “more important” issues, like ending poverty and abortion (as if we can’t care about both?). If we discuss environmental issues at all, it is done with an air of superiority and religiousness. Needless to say, to many people outside of Christianity this appears to be just a little, well, “superstitious.” (Granted these are generalizations, and there are a growing number of Christians who are excellent exceptions. Yet Christianity in America as a whole is still very much viewed by outsiders as an entity which is either indifferent or antagonistic toward environmental issues.) Perspective is everything. As a friend from Europe once asked me, “How can there be so many Christians in America, and yet so few of them care about the environment? Are they really Christians?”

The sad truth is that being a Christian in America (or Africa, or anywhere) is not likely to equate into being a person with a respect for creation. This bothers me. I am not writing this as a self-righteous rant; the truth is that I have been less than exemplary in this area for most of my life. It’s only been in the past few years I’ve been thinking about it in a serious way, and trying to change in the ways I know I can. This comes not from a change in political allegiance or even a better understanding of the issues. It comes from growing in my relationship with God, and from the understanding that the way I interact with creation is a reflection of both my own heart and what I believe God’s to be. To put it another way, I see this as a theological issue. The ignorance behind our “superstitions” is not merely ignorance of the environmental issues of the day, but of God Himself, and as I was reminded of today, this is the God that we export to the world. In some ironic way, I think the fact that the rapid and widespread growth of Christianity in Sub-Saharan Africa has done next to nothing in influencing people’s mindset toward environmental issues is perhaps a serious indictment against Christianity in America, as a sending and partnering culture. If it’s true that we reproduce what we are, then Christianity in Africa is speaking volumes about what we really believe about God and His Creation.

Last night I heard a knock on my door. Getting up from my homework, I opened it to find half a dozen squealing kids all trying to poke a very active hedgehog. My friend Michelle had rescued the baby hedgehog from the YWAM garden (and the curious prodding and rock throwing of the kids) and was trying to hold it still. One two year old boy was especially excited about the find and kept calling it a kangaroo!

She is perfectly tame and loves being handled. She also seems to have a voracious appetite for grasshoppers. She ate one last night that was half her size; she crunched down everything, including the wings. Thanks to another hedgie in the family (our sister Susanna has one), we have some idea of what they are like. Even though they make great pets, we are planning to let her go tonight. Last night she lived up to our expectations and spent the night pooping and running around. All we have for a cage is a cardboard box, so we figured she would probably be much happier running around the gardens, pooping and eating grasshoppers at her own leisure.

Yesterday we went on safari to Ngorongoro Crater. It’s a few hours drive from Arusha, and one of the world’s largest calderas (collapsed volcanoes). We drove around on the floor of the crater, with the roofs of our two vehicles open so we could stand on our seats and enjoy the view. We saw three cheetahs, a black Rhino and her older calf, small herds of elephants, two lions, some very lazy hyenas and countless herds of gazelles, hartebeests and wildebeests. Check out the photo gallery for some pictures!!

Americans love to ask this question. It’s a conversational necessity, but often there is more behind it than pure curiosity. I’ve never really been comfortable with it. Usually my answer starts with “uh…” and finishes with any variety of descriptions, depending on my mood when I’m asked. Of course, the easiest answer is to say I’m a missionary. I have mixed feelings about that word, however, and I still feel uncomfortable with identifying myself by it. Obviously I believe it’s a noble profession, in my own understanding of the word. Unfortunately my understanding isn’t necessarily the universal understanding, and even though I wish it were otherwise, the fact is that I am ashamed of a lot of what goes on under the pretext of missions.

Sometimes I say I’m in “full-time ministry.” This would be true according to the general consensus of our religious culture, and I do recognize a unique calling in my life in some ways. However, I generally avoid this description too, because it immediately implies a distinction I don’t think should exist; namely that some professions are ministry and some are not. Some people actually believe this, and the Kingdom of God suffers greatly because of it. For this reason, I rarely answer with this, as I don’t want to imply that the person who asked me is not in full-time ministry. Here in Africa, it is common to introduce those in “full-time” ministry with some sort of Title, like “Apostle so and so” or “Prophet so and so” or “Man of God so and so.” I always find this a little amusing. I usually have to stop myself from saying “Did God give you that title, or did you decide that for yourself?” Sometimes it would be nice to introduce myself as Apostle Chris, but I probably couldn’t do it with a straight face. Ironically enough, my name is often spelled here as “Christ,” but I am confident that is due to a language error and not out of admiration for my character! Of course, the truth is that I am not immune to the insecurity that desires such titles; it’s just that I can’t honestly ignore the example Jesus gives us. His life makes it hard for me to escape the conclusion that the true servants of God, those who walk with him as friends and worship him in spirit and in truth, will probably suffer greatly and receive very little recognition in this life. For this reason, I find it hard not to judge, or at least doubt, those who identify themselves as being servants of God, including myself. After all, aren’t we all serving God? I think it’s probably better to let God decide whether or not we’ve succeeded.

Sometimes I answer from an “organization representative” position. I say, “I work with such and such organization, doing such and such.” If I word it right, it sounds quite impressive. Even though I respect and appreciate the organization I work with, the truth is I am not a “company” man. That’s probably why I am part of a non-denominational, decentralized, barely-organized organization, which at the moment consists of 11,000 young people who all interpret their callings in a very unique way. I think it’s a characteristic of my generation; we simply don’t have much allegiance to organizations, denominations, and other structures. We either drift from structure to structure, or get wise and use a structure to accomplish our own goals. Some people would say this is a symptom of postmodernism, but I think it’s probably more about being relationship oriented rather than structure oriented. I could answer, “I try and influence people toward Jesus through building relationships,” which would be a lot closer to the truth. But if it’s a non-believer asking, I would probably immediately sabotage the potential relationship by my directness. I might as well say, “I’m a Pentecostal snake-handler.”

Sometimes I’m tempted to identify myself by what’s commonly accepted as “fruit” in our religious culture: numbers. People saved, churches planted, miracles done, etc. Honestly, this type of stuff was all I was thinking about a few years ago. I’d like to think I’ve matured, but all I really know is that bearing fruit often means something very different to God than it does to men, and is unique to each person. Salvations, churches, and miracles are still good things, but certainly not the only things. The Kingdom is not numerical, but relational, and I’m a little uncertain as to whether or not we can actually quantify growth in relationship; with each other or with God. The numbers may sound impressive, but they rarely communicate the truth in a way that God values. Even beyond this, can we really take credit for doing God’s work? In the experiences that I’ve had, the ones in which I know that I’ve been productive and effective, I’ve always had a sense that God led me to the right place, at the right time, and in doing what He told me to do, He brought the results he wanted. Sometimes it’s one of those three that people are obsessed with and love to talk about, but often it is a result that I don’t necessarily understand and probably don’t need to. Of course, I am still tempted to take credit for any visible fruit that I see, and sometimes I do. But God knows the truth, and usually that is enough to make me realize that my identity should not be too closely associated with what “I” accomplish.

Identity seems to be at the heart of all this. It’s no secret that often people ask “what do you do?” to measure their own life against another’s, and somehow find security by comparing each other’s labels. I know part of my struggle to answer this question is my own struggle to find worth and value from what I do. It’s like if I find the right answer or do whatever it is that produces the right answer, I will know who I am and be secure in it. I am learning it just doesn’t work that way. We do what we do from who we are; we are not made who we are by what we do. This has led me to the conclusion that the gospel is about identity; it’s about becoming free to be who God created us to be, without being controlled by insecurity, whether it’s our own or others. The freedom to be ourselves (and in being who we were created to be I believe is the only way to be truly productive) can only come from the unconditional love and acceptance that we find in the Father through Jesus. This acceptance leads to assurance about our identity as children of God, and this assurance leads to confidence, freedom, and “life in the fullest.” Maybe the best way I can answer the question, “what do you do?” (which is often masking a far more important question: “who are you?”) is to say “I am a follower of Jesus, in whom I find my identity as a child of God.” Of course, that would probably dramatically increase my chances of being labeled insane, but hey, I would probably be in good company. The world seems to have very little tolerance for people who know who they are and live unashamed of it. Jesus was crucified not merely because he challenged the religious authorities, but because He was, quite simply, the first human being who knew without a shadow of a doubt who He was: the Father’s Son. We crucified Him because He reveals that Adam’s nakedness is our own; and it is easier to kill that which makes us uncomfortable then to face the darkness within ourselves that His light reveals. Yet it is precisely in that moment, when we accept that we are indeed confused, blind, and insecure creatures, that He shows us that this is not our true identity. Our true identity is wrapped up in Him and all that He has accomplished. We too are the Father’s children, and being a Kingdom person is walking in our true identity as such. “Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.”

Some of you may remember the post on Philadelphia Church, the main church that we were working with in Burundi. They are really a special group of people, and besides being great friends, they have an incredible heart and vision to see Burundi transformed. When we were there, the church was sort of just getting started, but growing week by week. We just received some encouraging news that they have been growing quite quickly, and in the last three months they have already doubled in size to a hundred and fifty. (Normally, I don’t put any stock in numbers, as I believe church is more about meaningful relationships and Jesus being the center of the community. There are churches with tens of thousands of people that have neither of these. However, in this case I’m biased; I am convinced that the more people these guys influence, the better Burundi will be for it.) Thanks to all of you who have prayed for the church, and if you think of it, please continue to do so. Our friends have started teaching and training everyday, which I can imagine is making for a very busy schedule (they are all lay pastors with full time jobs). Thanks!!