The last (lengthy) post was about the book-that-wasn’t from this past summer.  In that post I shared how I was prevented from writing about our Asia experiences due to the lingering effects of culture shock.

I also mentioned that I had come to this conclusion by pondering a seemingly unrelated topic.

Not too very long ago I was reading the book Reaching Out by Henri Nouwen.  I posted about how I was struck by his idea of hospitality and how we as believers need to embrace the stranger and allow them into our lives.

One of the quotes from the book that stood out in my mind was, "We can only perceive the stranger as an enemy as long as we have something to defend."  That idea took me by surprise because Nouwen is suggesting that our fear of strangers is primarily motivated by our concern that they will take or destroy something which we are protective of (e.g. our time, money, possessions, status, reputation, privacy, safety, security, etc.)  Nouwen then goes on to explain that these precious and sacred items that we are busy building walls of protection around are actually things that we should be freely giving to others.  When we die to ourselves and take up our cross to follow Christ we forfeit these items for the greater realities of adoption that Christ bestows upon us as His children.

So that got me thinking about defending.  Specifically, what am I defending?

And that’s when a picture popped into my head (like a lightbulb) of playing capture the flag. 

If you have ever been to a (decent) summer camp in the United States, you’ve probably played Capture the Flag at some point. 

It is a game  of strategy and cunning, stealth and swiftness.
Ideally played under the cover of darkness, two (or more ) teams must
hide their team "flag" at a secret location in the woods or somewhere
within the pre-determined boundaries where the game is being played.
The object of the game is for one team to capture the opposing team’s
flag without (or before) their flag being captured.  Depending on the
rules you utilize (there are many variations), some people guard their
team’s flag while others are sent out to find and obtain the "enemies"
flag.  Sometimes prisoners are taken and jailed, at other times
symbolic fatalities are incurred, generally, a lot of adrenaline is
pumped, and (unless you run into a patch of poison ivy) fun is had by
all.

So, culture shock + hospitality + defense = capture the flag.  This is how my mind works.

I pictured myself as a defender.  From the shadows of large
evergreens I could see myself huddled–watching the night–eyes pressed
to the clearing where my flag lay hidden.  The midnight sounds of owls
hooting and bats moaning plays tricks on my imagination.  I am
hyper-alert to the wind in the branches, the sway of high grasses, the
smell of cedar and dirt.  With each new sound I sense the phantom
enemies just beyond my line of sight.  I am tense–expecting a
sabotage  of some sort or another.  None comes, but I know the night is
still young…and I wait.

And in that stark image of desperate defense I realize that I can
only see the reality of this situation because all the other masks (or
hats) I usually wear have been stripped away. I am an American
citizen–no longer living in my homeland.  I am a journalist and writer
who has handed in his pen and laptop for notebooks and dictionaries.  I
am a provider who now relies on provision.  I am an articulate
communicator who can barely speak a coherent sentence.  I am a college
graduate who had to go back to class.  I am a person with family and
friends trying to find the meaning of those words in a different
culture.  I am a person with vision and plans for the future who is
daily thrust into situations that require intuition and trust for today.

And I am also (at the core it seems) a lonely guy in the woods defending a colorful rag.

Not that my rag doesn’t have value.  That flashy little red piece of
cloth (I’m sure) could symbolize some concern for my wife and
children–thoughts for their safety and well-being.  It could also have
something to do with wanting to be obedient and faithful, good in
stewardship and investing in talents.  It could be all of these things
and more.  But what worries me is not all of these selfless traits, but
something else a bit more subtle…

When I see myself staked out and on-guard in that vulnerable and
stripped forest what I see glimmering and flapping in that precious
flag is a little (BIG) thing called:

EGO.

I realized by reading Nouwen and reflecting on hospitality and
meditating on the artful craft of capture the flag that there is
deceptively sparkling nugget of fool’s gold within me that is more precious to
me than most other things. It is ego.  It is that treasure of self (the
ego) that so much of my outer life is consumed in protecting.  I
wouldn’t say I’m exceptionally egotistical, but I think that pride is
such a clever charlatan that it quietly sneaks into our hiding places
within, camps out, and eventually starts issuing commands.  We miss it
or interpret it as something other than, but when the masks of our existence are pulled off, alas, there it is!  Being protected and nurtured.  Guarded close and cherished.  (Yuck!)

It’s a shocking discovery, let me tell ya.  It shocked me to see who
I was (out there in the woods) even with so much of my life focused on
a very different King.  But in another way it was so good to see the
reality of my situation.  I know that it’s easy to think I’m over my
EGO.  I’m moving on.  I know it’s not that simple.  I’m sure there is
another clearing (probably multiple hideouts) where I am still
protecting another aspect of my Ego or Pride.  But at least I am aware
of what I am protecting.

In the realization of my culture shocked state AND in the reality
that I’m playing a game of protect my Ego flag, I had another great
REDEMPTIVE image come to mind.  It was the image of Jesus talking to
the Samaritan woman at the well.  She, too, had some secrets; she was
protecting some ugly truths.  Jesus cut through all that (in the
awesome way he does) to address the reality of the situation.  He
offered living water.  Her life (and the life of the other
capture-the-flaggers around her) was forever changed by that living
water Jesus offered.  So, I’ve decided to hand the flag over (all the
flags) to Him.  Out there, in the clearing within, I’ve decided I’d
rather be digging a well.  From now on I want to guard that source of
living water within me.  (Guard as sacred, but freely share!)  So I can
worship Him in spirit and truth.  These are lofty goals, but thankfully
He hides in the woods with me.

It’s a long explanation for a simple concept I know, but I had to
get it out.  Culture shock can be very difficult to deal with at times,
but it also has the capability to refine our character and show us
Truth.  My flag hasn’t turned white just yet.  Hopefully it won’t
anytime soon.