November 2, 2006
Moving forward in spite of
Are there any two words in all of the English language
more closely twinned than courage and cowardice? I do not think
there is a (person) alive who will not yearn to possess the
former and dread to be accused of the latter. One is held to
be the apogee of (a person’s) character, the other its
nadir. And yet, to me, the two sit side by side on the circle
of life, removed from each other by the merest degree of arc.
From March, by Geraldine Brooks
Several years ago, shortly before making the decision to leave
the church I had pastored for 26 years, I was on retreat with
the officers of the church. We were talking about what we most
hoped for in our personal lives. I remember sounding like the
Lion in the Wizard of Oz when I said, “What I would most
like is the gift of courage.” There were occasions during
my years as parish pastor when I was shaking in my boots, my life
hanging in the balance between courage and cowardice, for example,
being en route to the home of a family raw with grief after a
beloved child’s suicide, taking a stand on one of the divisive
issues before the denomination, or making a theological leap of
faith in the context of preaching. But I had not anticipated how
the circle of my life as a mission co-worker would put me in touch
with the “merest degree” between courage and cowardice.
I am discovering my ablest instructors in the
art of courage: the young woman abandoned by her partner, anticipating
alone the birth of her first child.
In the mission field of Guatemala, I am learning that it takes
courage to speak up when it is likely that I’ll be mangling
the language of the people I seek to serve. I am learning that
it takes courage to shoulder responsibility for leading mission
groups into territory where suspicions run deep against North
Americans. I am learning that it takes courage to raise questions
about transparency in addressing denominational money matters.
Shaking in my boots is common practice for me now. My “voluntary
displacement” (see Henri Nouwen’s book, Compassion)
from my more predictable previous life has forced an inventory
of the apogee and nadir of my character. I find myself wondering
if the truly courageous person “quakes with terror, sweats,
feels his bowels betray him, and in spite of this moves forward
to do the (necessary) act he dreads” (Geraldine Brooks,
March). I like to think that in those moments when I
move forward in this way, I stand in the sacred company of the
saints.
It is especially in the company of saints with a Guatemalan accent
where I am discovering my ablest instructors in the art of courage:
the young woman abandoned by her partner, anticipating alone the
birth of her first child; the father of nine with only a third-grade
education facing the intimidation of the visa process in order
that he might represent his church at a partnership meeting in
the United States; the mountain community that watched its generations-old
coffee fields disappear under the fury of Hurricane Stan; the
pastors caught in the crossfire of vicious power struggles marked
by threatening phone calls in the middle of the night. The faithful
ones who move forward “in spite of.”
Courage and cowardice. I am grateful for the opportunities this
Guatemalan journey has afforded me in the company of simple saints
who struggle with these two words so closely twinned, hoping that
we might discover in partnership what it means to listen to God’s
still, small voice of honorable conscience.
J. David Wiseman
The 2006 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 64
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