Mission Possible in Steppings with Jesus!!

*True Story bumper sticker I saw yesterday when riding the bus back home after one long, miserable day on busses across the city. God has a funny way of stepping in like that, doesn't He?

Halo semuanya!

So yesterday was my half birthday, which means that I have therefore promised myself I give this whole mission thing a good six months at least. By the Ides of March, I plan on loving every minute of this insanity. I plan on being able to understand what they're saying to me, and I plan on being able to talk right back. I plan on finally getting a handle of Jakarta street maps and Blok M bus schedules, and I for sure plan on feeling that kind of fire that makes me never ever want to leave. Six months. Because things take time. And I am learning patience.

One thing I already love about Indonesia, however, is the overly-bright and courageously cheerful stationary products that I occasionally pass by on my way to market or home from Jakarta Raya. You probably know what I'm talking about—the characteristically mangled English that comes out of these Asian countries in surprisingly insightful phrases. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm so desperate for constant reminders of happiness that I find hope in these small moments, moments like “Maybe happiness is simplest” or “Today is the best day of living because I own four cats.” I also found quiet inspiration in this pithy phrase printed across a fellow passenger's bag on busway: “You are flowerful in the storm that rages.” But maybe most of all I liked this (somewhat legit!) statement, printed on a t-shirt in the pasar: “Find your passion and make it happen.”

I think I've actually been trying to live this particular motto most of my life, but had forgotten to apply it to mission as of yet—find my passion? Sometimes that seems near impossible, amidst the endless traffic, the constant noise and rubbish, the hopeless poverty. But this week I feel like maybe I came a bit closer to that passion, a passion I've found to be teaching.

Which we don't have a lot of opportunity for, to be honest with you. Though a 90% Muslim population in the fourth most populous nation means there's a good 29 million Christians still to reach, that same statistic applies to every day here and it's rare you find someone wanting to be taught even if you manage to find a Christian in the first place. Then, if you luck out with a phone number, chances are they're going to evade your call, or if you get all the way to a call and appointment, they're most likely not going to show up. That appointment I had to run to last week? No show. Same with two the next day. But that kind of despair only makes those rare teaching opportunities entirely more beautiful, all the more valuable. At this point, fourteen days into Indonesia, I've taught exactly two. But the power and truth I felt in those two hours was enough to make up for every busway rejection, every night stood up at the church. 

I actually wrote you a letter last week, a full six pages or so in teeny-tiny type that should make its way to you in the near future, if you keep your fingers crossed and also your prayers constant—dropping that fat envelope off at the Kantor Pos in no way really aided in strengthening my faith in Indonesia. But anyway, there's a letter on the way with all sorts of new information and exciting examples and details and I don't want to repeat myself here, so perhaps that will all have to wait. I'll also end off here because I want to respond to the other questions in your emails—I’m on another hour's time constraint because there's still shopping to do and then guess what? I'm going on the radio. I know. Of all the things to tell your kids, right? Once upon a time, I did a weekly radio show in Jakarta, Indonesia . . . Apparently a local English-teaching station asks us to come on and just talk for an hour so their listeners can get a feel for the language and also call in with questions. We are ridiculously excited, as you might imagine.

sampai menulis lagi,

Sister E.