God-carrier

I’m selfish. I admit it. I want people to do things the way I think they should be done. I want events to unfold according to my expectations. I begin too many sentences with I.

But when I give in to God and allow that people and events do as they are supposed to do, God either teaches, surprises, or blesses me. God has been sprinkling blessings amidst the teaching lately (“a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down?”).

For this stint in Beni, I’m living at Bethel House—a house that CI-UCBC is renting to accommodate international staff and visiting professors. For the first time we Americans (currently it’s Americans who make up “international staff”) share living space and meals with Congolese professors. It’s a grand opportunity for cultures to brush up against each other.

This past week I’ve been harboring ill feelings towards one of my “housemates.” He hasn’t done anything to me. He’s just been who he is, wrapped in his personality, preferences, and values, a product of his culture and experiences, with views about gender and class shaped by all of that and more. And, of course, I’ve been wrapped in my personality, preferences, and values. I, too, am a product of my culture and experiences, with views about gender and class.

I confess that earlier this week I did not want to spend time with this teacher. I was not interested in getting to know him or engaging in conversation. I had developed opinions and maintained prejudices based on a handful of observations. My selfishness and tendency towards judgment stood firm.

Then Desmond Tutu challenged me in that loving, impish voice and that gentle, magnanimous spirit. Krista Tippett conducted an interview with him in 2010 for On Being. Early in the interview Bishop Tutu responds to a question about the “dynamite” power of the Bible. He says, “We are created in the image of God….Each one of us is a God-carrier,” then proceeds to tell the story of a township parish he pastored early in his ministry. The members were poor, many of them domestic workers in the white enclaves in another world. Most of the women were called “Annie,” and most of the men were called “Boy,” because the whites insisted the African names were too difficult to pronounce. Tutu would tell his congregants, “When they ask ‘Who are you?’ tell them, ‘I’m a God-carrier. I’m God’s partner.’"

God-carrier. We’re each of us a God-carrier? Yes. Created in God’s image. Yes, we are. We are. Not just me. Not just the people I love, or the people who are my friends, or the people I enjoy being with, or the people with whom I gladly and expectantly share my life. But even the moto-driver who insists on charging me double the going rate for a ride between Bethel House and the UCBC campus is a God-carrier. The Congolese youth who stares and shouts, “Muzungu!” when I pass is a God-carrier. My temporary housemate is a God-carrier. Ouch!

Have I become great friends with this other teacher? No. But as I’ve allowed my heart to soften, mealtimes are more pleasant, at least for me. I’m less inclined to focus on what I find distasteful. I’m kinder and gentler and more inclined to act as a God-carrier myself.