diversity

On Faith and Culture, Part 1: Introduction

October 21, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Times change.

Living for a while will drill that idea into you.

The college students I teach, who have lived for only a generation, don’t have a clear sense of that. They don’t understand that our culture didn’t always include cell phones, or scanners at the airport, or the kind of deep polarization that characterizes culture and politics today.

I don’t blame them for that, because they haven’t lived long enough to see generational change.

I sprang to life as a baby boomer, in a culture full of postwar optimism and relative prosperity—though my family was cash-poor in those days. My peers and I lived with Cold War fears, including the Cuban Missile Crisis; then the assassination era (JFK, RFK, MLK) during the Civil Rights and Vietnam protest times; then the “general malaise” under Carter, before anyone associated him with Habitat for Humanity; the Reagan Era, including the end of the Cold War and the optimism that characterized the imaginings of a world without Communism; then 9/11 and the rise of radical Islamic terrorism. All of this is outside the scope of my students’ experience.

Since Y2K—oh, I didn’t mention that little cultural bleep, did I?—I’ve had the privilege of doing some international travel, in Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, and especially Africa—and I’ve gained a little more understanding of cultural differences as well.

Time and space. People are different, and times change.

Why is that?

I’d suggest that this diversity is a direct result of the fact that we humans have been created in the image of God. The first thing that the Scripture tells us about God is that he’s creative (Ge 1.1), and the first thing it tells us about us is that we are like him in significant respects (Ge 1.27). We should not be surprised, then, that humans, as a matter of course, come up with different ways of doing things. As they spread around the globe, and as they develop through time, they’re going to think, speak, and live in ways that differ from one another.

We see these differences in thousands of distinctions, big and small. When I was a kid, we learned our friends’ phone numbers, mostly because we dialed them so often. Today nobody knows anybody else’s number, because we never dial them at all, because they’re just stored in our phones—and why do we call punching buttons “dialing,” anyway?

That’s a change over time; how about a change across space? I’ve written before about my favorite example of cultural difference—how in China, you must never eat everything on your plate, and in the USA you must always eat everything on your plate. Why? Because in the US leaving something on your plate is taken to mean that you didn’t like it, while in China, it means that the host has been so generous that you simply can’t eat any more. Same action has different meanings in the two cultures, making one polite and the other impolite—and both views make perfectly good sense.

Often these differences divide us. The ever-present “generation gap” is an indication of cultural misunderstanding across time, and entire wars have been fought over cultural differences across space.

But the Bible indicates that such divisions are often unnecessary. God seems to want us to be different—to be an expression of our creativity, our different ways of thinking and doing. As just one illustration of that, the Spirit of God gifts his people in the church in different ways, by his own choice (1Co 12.4-11), rendering the body of Christ a diverse unity (1Co 12.12-27), so that it will thereby be more flexible in its abilities and more helpful from one member to another. Paul adds to that idea in his letter to the Romans by essentially demanding that we maintain unity despite our differences that might incline to drive us apart (Ro 14.1-9).

But there’s a wrinkle. The world is not as God made it; it’s broken by our sin, and that brokenness extends to our social and cultural practices, bringing them into conflict. That’s not surprising, given that fellowship—peace with one another—is an outcome of our individual peace with God (IJ 1.3).

I’d like to spend a few posts thinking about how those of us who follow Christ should navigate these cultural differences and the murkiness that our brokenness brings to our decision making.

Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash

E Pluribus Unum

July 19, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

My wife and I were eating lunch in a restaurant yesterday when a girl walked by in a T-shirt that said “Lexington Soccer.” I caught her eye and asked, “Lexington where?” She said, “Massachusetts”—as I hoped she would. I smiled and said, “I graduated from Lexington Christian.” She said, “So did my Dad.”

Small world.

And that got me to thinking about all the places I’ve lived and people I’ve known—which leads me to recycle what follows, a minor reworking of something I posted on Facebook on September 4, 2016.

I spent the first half my youth in the Pacific Northwest (Spokane, to be precise), and the second half in greater Boston (Newton, mostly). (And when I say “half,” I’m being precise; we headed east 3 days after my 10th birthday.)

But I’ve spent well over 2/3 of my life in the American South. There are lots of things I like about the region:

Barbecue. And to my friends in California, bless your hearts, you’re not “barbecuing”; you’re grilling. It ain’t barbecue unless you’re usin’ wood and takin’ more than 8 hours.
- Side note: in South Africa they “braai,” and they use wood, but they cook hot and fast rather than low and slow, so that’s not barbecue either. Though it is delicious.
The way Southerners soften their insults with “bless your heart.”
Biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast.
Calling other adults “Sir” and “Ma’am,” even when they’re younger than you.
Dinner on the grounds. And persimmon pudding. Preferably simultaneously.
Fireflies.
The good people in mill towns like Poe and Slater and Zoar and Lockhart. (RIP, Eunice Loudermilk.)
The way everything’s sweeter here–cornbread and potato salad and of course iced tea.
The sound of the kudzu growing on a dog day afternoon.
Grits. Yes, really. Fresh and hot, with butter and pepper—and not a single crystal of sugar. What were you thinking!?

I am blessed for having lived in multiple regions. It’s helped me realize that despite our differences, we are all more alike than we think–that there really is more that unites us than that divides us. That reaching across regional boundaries and disbelieving stereotypes is good for the soul. And for the country. And that as polarized as we are in this country, “e pluribus unum” really is possible. But it starts with us, one at a time.

Our leaders, and our journalists, and social media are united in their efforts to keep us ginned up, angry and hostile toward the “other side.” They’re doing it almost entirely for the ratings, for the money, for the power. They’re posturing; they don’t believe half the things they’re saying, and you shouldn’t either.

Don’t buy it. You’re in the image of God; you’re not a beast. Think for yourself. And reach across the unbreachable boundary. Because they’re in the image of God too.

Photo by Joey Csunyo on Unsplash

On Cultural Understanding, Part 2: The United States

February 18, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The World

For all of America’s geographical isolation and reputation for cultural closed-mindedness, I’d suggest that the US has much more cultural diversity than many people realize—diversity from which we all can gain the same benefits enjoyed by multicultural societies in the rest of the world.

I spent the first half my youth in the Pacific Northwest, and the second half in greater Boston. (And when I say “half,” I’m being precise; we headed east 3 days after my 10th birthday.)

At that tender age I was given the pronounced privilege of glimpsing a sample of the cultural diversity of my own country.

The American West is still driven by its frontier past, which includes ranching (“cowboy,” if you will) culture: you herd animals, not people. You don’t tell people what to do; you show them a more efficient way—by example—and you leave them to make the free individual choice to adopt it. Discovery learning at its best.

My Dad, born on the frontier in 1918, always groused at the stanchions and cords set up to direct large crowds through long lines. “Sheep,” he would mutter.

Westerners are more likely to stop and help somebody who’s stranded on the highway. It’s big country out here, and we look out for one another. In many ways this thinking is similar to the hospitality culture of the Ancient (and modern) Near East.

Moving to Boston was an experience. New England is older than the PNW—Washington had been a state for only 80 years when I lived there—and considerably more set in its ways. (The phrase “Boston Brahmin” means something.) People are more taciturn, less likely to run on about their opinions or to listen to yours. My public schools in Newton were considerably more liberal politically than those in the hard-scrabble desert farmland of Eastern Washington. I had a lot to learn.

(An aside—of course we’re in danger of stereotyping here. But there are real and significant distinctions between these cultures, observed and catalogued by serious sociologists.)

I left Boston for college in the South when I was 17 and moved there permanently, as it turned out, at age 27 after my graduate work. Now, in my sixties, I’ve spent nearly 3/4 of my life in the American South. This is a region that, frankly, is held in low esteem by much of the rest of the country, often the target of stereotypes and ridicule, as well as a certain level of distrust that is historically well-founded.

But there are lots of things I like about the region:

Barbecue. And to my friends in California, bless your hearts, you’re not “barbecuing”; you’re grilling. It ain’t barbecue unless you’re usin’ wood and takin’ more than 8 hours.
The way Southerners soften their insults with “bless your heart.”
Biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast.
Calling other adults “Sir” and “Ma’am,” even when they’re younger than you.
Dinner on the grounds. And persimmon pudding. Preferably simultaneously.
The good people in mill towns like Poe and Zoar and Lockhart. (RIP, Eunice Loudermilk.)
Country roads slicing through the kudzu.
The way everything’s sweeter here–cornbread and potato salad and iced tea.
Tommy’s Country Ham House, which is closing due to Tommy’s imminent retirement, an announcement that has us all reeling.

Our leaders, and our journalists, and social media are united in their efforts to keep us ginned up, angry and hostile toward the “other side.” Don’t buy it. You’re in the image of God; you’re not a sheep. Think for yourself. And reach across the unbreachable boundary.

You won’t be sorry.

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 8

August 6, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Number 7: Fellowship. You need those people who disagree with you.

Believe it or not, one year I played football. American football. I was an offensive lineman.

Pop Warner League. Seventh grade. Weight limit was 110 pounds at the top, 75 at the bottom. I was 2 pounds too light, but they let me play anyway.

We called ourselves the Patriots. (We were in a Boston suburb.) We lost every game but one.

That experience didn’t jump-start my career, but it did teach me a lot of things. Most important, it forever changed my thinking about diversity.

As with any team sport, football has different positions, and they have different requirements. The offensive lineman has pretty much one job: be a wall. Protect the quarterback. Give him 2 or 3 seconds to get the ball where it needs to go.

So what does an offensive lineman look like? He’s big. Really big. 350 pounds big. His job is to get in the way and stay there.

Out at the far end of the line is the wide receiver. What’s his job? Get down the field—sometimes waaaay down the field—and catch the ball. And then run with it. He needs to be fast. And agile, to out-maneuver the defensive secondary. And it helps if he has some vertical reach so he can catch a broader range of passes.

So what does he look like? He’s not 350 pounds, that’s for sure. He’s thinner, more like an Olympic sprinter, and he’s usually tall, with an ability to jump. And he has great hands.

Now, which of those body types is better?

Neither one, obviously. They’re both necessary for the success of the team. You put an offensive lineman out at the wide receiver’s position, and he’ll be worn out after 2 or 3 plays. You put the wide receiver in at left guard, and they’ll be carrying him—or the quarterback—off the field in short order.

You need them both, and you want them both. It’s the diversity that makes your team great.

What about church? What about life?

It’s human nature to want to be with people who are like you. They look like you, they think like you, they live like you. Other people are unwise, or icky, or nuts. Anybody who drives faster than you is a maniac; anybody who drives slower is a moron. So we go to church with people like us.

And our church is all wide receivers, or offensive linemen, and we wonder why we don’t win any games.

You need to surround yourself with people who are different from you. Sure, racially different—whatever that means—but different in the more important ways as well. Different in the way they think. Socially different. Culturally different. Politically different.

Different, in significant ways.

Why?

Because you’re not good at everything, and you need them to be good at whatever you’re not. You need their strengths, their insights, and especially their correction. You need them.

For many years I was on the elder board of my church. As we wrestled with hard cases and difficult decisions, I came to appreciate the fact that we had different kinds of people at the table.

We had men with the gift of mercy. They would bring a situation to the table: here’s someone who doesn’t have enough to eat. And they would weep, and they would say, “We need to help this family!”

But we also had men without the gift of mercy. They would listen, and they wouldn’t weep. And they’d say, “Why do they not have enough to eat? Is it because he’s foolish with his money? And if so, should we be giving him more money? How about if we buy him a bag of groceries, and then have one of the financial advisers in the church give him some pro bono help setting up a budget and learning how to stick to it?”

(I’ll let you guess which of those groups I was in.)

Now. Which of those people on the elder board is more important?

You need them both. You need the one who weeps, and you need the one who doesn’t. They both make you a better team.

Now let me place the rubber on the road.

When families are being separated at the border, you need people with the gift of mercy, and you need people without it.

You need people who get righteously angry at the suffering that’s going on. You need people who call down a system that takes 3-year-olds to court. Without their parents.

But you also need people who say, “These people are in this predicament because they broke the law. And if we subsidize their behavior, we’re going to get more of it. And that’s not good for us, and it’s most certainly not good for them. We ought to do what we can to discourage this kind of behavior.”

You don’t need to be all in at either pole—you probably shouldn’t be. But you should listen to them.

And we—we—should work together to bring about a system that works.

We can’t do it without each other.

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

Thoughts on Returning from Africa for the 9th Time

July 9, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

On June 24^th I came home from Africa, again. I went for the first time in 2000, when I went to teach in a small Bible college in Cape Town. I was privileged to take my family on that trip. I thought I fell in love with Africa then, but I realized later that experience with Cape Town is a pretty narrow introduction to the continent.

I began taking student teams to Africa several years later. I’ve taken teams to Kenya and South Africa (2007), Zambia and Kenya (2010), Ghana and Tanzania (2013, 2015, 2016) and just Tanzania (2014). And this summer, for a change, I took a team to Ghana for 3 weeks, brought it home, and turned right around—24 hours later!—and took a different team to Tanzania. That cut the cost in half for each of the participating students, and it also did wonders for my frequent-flyer miles, but it also just about killed me. More on that in a minute.

Like every other time I’ve returned, I have thoughts. Unlike those other times, though, this time I’m going to share them.

1. Africa is unique.

Yeah, the animals are unique, of course. Elephants (the variety with huge ears) and lions and giraffes and wildebeests, and on and on it goes. (But, to the surprise of many, no tigers. Except in zoos.) But Africa is unique in other ways. It’s a remarkable mixture of traditional and modern, of tribal and national. Villages of thatched-roof huts with 5 bars of cell service. Cultures that are at once similar and noticeably distinct.

I suppose Africa is stereotyped, and inaccurately so, more than any other continent. First, there’s hardly any jungle—that’s in the DCR, mostly—and second, the continent has a wide diversity of culture and stages of development. There’s a mall in Cape Town that’ll knock your socks off. I could go on forever.

2. Diversity is strength.

I’ve taken teams ranging in size from 17 to 6. Each has had its own personality. But more importantly, each has had diversity among its members. Men and women, extroverted and introverted, athletic and, well, not. And in each case, the team has sorted itself out, figured out who can do what, and distributed its strengths to accomplish the tasks at hand. In each case, the differences have led not to divisions, but to increased flexibility in complex ministry opportunities. You need Marys, and you need Marthas. By the grace of God, everybody’s good at something, and everybody enjoys succeeding at that.

3. Aging is a thing.

This summer’s outing was more challenging physically than previous ones, most obviously in the need to take 2 different teams, back to back. One week’s schedule:

Sunday: 12-hour overnight bus ride from Wa to Accra, Ghana
Monday: hiking around Accra, sleeping in a real bed in a guest house
Tuesday: overnight flight to Amsterdam
Wednesday: all-day flight to Atlanta; drive 3 hours to Greenville; sleep in my own bed
Thursday: meet new team; drive to Atlanta; 15-hour overnight flight to Doha, Qatar
Friday: flight to Nairobi; sleep in chairs at the airport
Saturday: flight to Mwanza, Tanzania, via Kilimanjaro; stay awake until local bedtime so jetlag doesn’t kill you

For 7 nights, sleeping in a different place every night, and only 3 of the 7 are beds.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I realized pretty quickly that I was not physically prepared for the trip, and that came as a surprise to me. In previous years, I’ve just gone, and the bod did what it needed to do. Now, apparently, the bod has less natural strength than it did, and it’ll need to be prepared. Years of good health you pretty much take for granted. Time to start workin’ out.

4. Pretty much anybody can go.

Jesus left us a command to take the gospel to the ends of the earth. Most Christians assume that they’re supporters of the goers rather than goers themselves. You know, “pray, give, go”—we do the praying and the giving, and we hire other people to do the going, which would be really, um, inconvenient for us.

Nonsense. Anybody can go. Pretty much. That 1 lady in the iron lung, I suppose she can’t go. And of course there are others with disabling health conditions. But for most of us, there are only 2 obstacles:

Time. We have jobs, children to take care of. But you can learn a lot, and even do a lot, in just a week or two, provided you have wise counsel on where to go and how to help. You have vacation time; donate one of those weeks, and see how your priorities change.
Money. Yeah, that. My 2 trips this summer cost several thousand dollars, and I’m not wealthy—though I hasten to add that God has given me everything I need, and a lot of things I don’t. So where does the money come from? Well, here’s the thing. There are people in the church—a lot of them—whose hearts God has touched, who have set aside a hundred bucks, or a thousand bucks, or even several thousand, and they’re asking God to show them where to put it. They’re actively watching for opportunities to invest those funds in ways that will make an eternal difference. I don’t like to ask for money, but after I realized that these people are out there, I found that if you’ll make the opportunity known, the funds will show up. Money isn’t an obstacle. Over the years I’ve had team members whose essential poverty would astonish you. And they went to Africa, for 3 weeks, or 5 weeks, or 8 weeks, because God, through his people, provided.

Be a pray-er. Be a giver. Sure. But be a goer. Don’t sell yourself—and your God—short.