Have you ever wondered what Noah’s Ark really looked like? Well, travel to Kentucky (of all places), and you’ll get a pretty good idea. The Ark Encounter, a project of Answers in Genesis, is a life-sized ark based on the dimensions listed in the Bible.
Using the theory that that each pair of animals represented one “kind,” they filled the ark with models of these creatures based on prehistoric fossils. There are also several displays within the ark, including an exhibit provided by the Bible Museum and one that shares flood legends around the world.
It’s a little bit museum and a little bit theme park, which appealed to my five-year-old who loves science. Our visit to the Ark Encounter was an awesome experience for our whole family, from my parents (who brought us!) to my kids.
Judging by the major crowds at the Ark on the Saturday we visited, this is a popular destination. Perhaps this is, in part, because children’s tickets are free. The venue also hosts conferences and concerts–the day we visited, there was live music by a well-known Christian band included with the price of a ticket. We didn’t attend because there was so much to see!
Definitely a fun trip and one I’ll repeat when my kids get older and mature enough to appreciate new things about the experience.
Island-wide power outages, folks. That’s the way we do life here on Sint Maarten. The power to serve, GEBE? How about “the power to not serve.” “The power to darken an entire island all at once.”
It’s become trendy to complain about GEBE and the power problems here on the island, but I actually don’t mind them too much. I guess it’s easy for me to say that since I live in Maho, where we don’t get most of the outages. We’re on the airport grid, and they can’t shut the airport down too often. On Saturday, though, the whole island was down. Black. darkness. No light, except for the occasional building with a generator and one random man rolling down the street on his hooverboard. Despite the darkness, I found a lot to be thankful for.
There wasn’t any point in hanging out inside, and I couldn’t go to bed early since had to go pick up R from his school dance in a couple hours, so I decided to take my dog, Kito, outside and stargaze for a while. Dang, people, you can see a lot of stars out there when the lights are off! I put down a towel on the grass, lay down on it, and let Kito run around. For all her lack of social graces, Kito is the best fetcher I’ve ever seen. She just drops the ball in my lap, I throw it, and repeat until she drops from exhaustion.
Kito and I spent an hour like that. I have an app called SkyView on my phone, which is pretty cool. You hold it up to the sky and it shows you the names of all the celestial bodies and constellations. I really do need to brush up on my Greek mythology, so it was nice to finally take a break from all the usual distractions and just stare at the stars for a while. I could find Cassiopeia and Orion pretty quickly, but I had to re-learn Cygnus, Perseus, and Pisces.
After a while, Kito flopped down in the grass beside me. It was so quiet and so dark, just like the rural neighborhood where I lived as a kid. We used to lay out on the trampoline at night, searching out the ancient stories in the sky above. The stars were so bright, just like they were those years ago. It struck me how so much in life changes in such a few short years, but the stars never change. The sparkling patterns above me were the same ones that the ancient Greeks saw, and even Father Abraham himself tried to count the same glittering specks. Can you imagine how magnificent the stars must look when there is absolutely no artificial light anywhere around? That’s something most of us have never seen that the ancients took for granted. A fiery streak silently sparked through the velvety expanse above. I haven’t seen too many of those in my lifetime, and I felt a sense of being robbed by the ever-present electricity that drowns out the gleam of the night skies.
My musings were cut short by a sudden burst of light. Someone at GEBE had flipped the switch, and the lamp above me suddenly flooded the yard with a warm glow. The magic of the darkness gone, Kito and I packed up and headed upstairs. On the way, I saw TWO centipedes and swore to myself that I’d never lay on the grass at night again. I’m glad I didn’t see those until afterwards, or I would have been sitting on the roof of my car for the whole hour.
Power outages are no fun, but they really do help you reset your technologically-programmed brain. We’ve only had electric lights for a mere snippet of human history, and people did just fine without them before! I bet they spent a whole lot of time stargazing back then. Like I explained to R later, stargazing was basically antiquity’s version of Netflix. It was the way people used to tell stories, the way we do on a screen now. Sometimes, it’s nice to get back to that. Turn off the modern conveniences and experience entertainment the way our ancestors did.
Here’s a challenge for you: This week, choose a night and stargaze. Download the SkyView app (not a sponsored post, I just think it’s cool) or do your research ahead of time. Learn the stories in the stars, and let your imagination carry you to the top of Mount Olympus. There are so many interesting things to appreciate about the universe– things that even power outages can’t take away.
Pin Me!
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?
Cross-cultural transition can teach the expat many lessons. Last post, we heard from Emily Montgomery about what she has learned from the process. Today, Emily offers five more words of wisdom.
5. Get in your zone.
I define a comfort zone as a situation where I know what is expected and I am capable of succeeding. In my own culture, I subconsciously orchestrated my interactions so I spent most of my time in my comfort zone.
That handy little ability is not possible when you enter an unknown cultural context.
Right after I moved, I had an identity crisis that lasted several months. Because I was not operating from within my comfort zone, I wasn’t acting like myself.
I was often surprised by my responses. Experiences that used to excite me no longer did. The limits of what I could handle in certain situations were different than they had been in my own culture. It was so disorienting.
And then I started to develop a comfort zone in my new context.
As things became more familiar and I learned the cultural norms around me, some of my old traits began to reemerge. My confidence started to reappear slowly.
There will always be some parts of your comfort zone that cannot translate to the new culture. So, parts of your personality will only come out when you visit home. But, there are also new layers to yourself that you never saw before, that only exist in the new context.
Be brave and engage the new culture. It will be uncomfortable at first, but remember that you are expanding the zone where you can truly be yourself. It’s worth it!
6. Obey God today.
One time during the first wave of transition, I was crying and talking to God. I said between sobs, “My kids won’t even know their cousins!” Then it was like God told me to really think about what I was saying.
I was single with no prospects of marriage in view. Children were a far-off dream at that point. I was carrying the weight of a sacrifice God hadn’t even asked me to make.
In Luke 9:23, Jesus told his followers to pick up their crosses daily. I learned to apply that to my transition process.
Emotionally, I acknowledged and grieved what I was currently missing in the lives of my community at home because I was far away. But, I didn’t allow myself to grieve an event that hadn’t happened yet.
Only God can see for certain how your future will play out. You don’t know that you’ll miss your brother’s wedding, never see your grandpa again, or spend every holiday season away from home.
The only sacrifice Jesus is asking you to make is the one you are facing today. And, he promised that he will give you the right amount of grace to carry that sorrow (2 Corinthians 12:9).
7. Take on a posture of prayer.
About a year before I moved overseas, I heard about the idea of creating a personal prayer posture. The friend who told me about it said it helped her to focus on being present with Jesus.
The habit of getting into a certain physical position and opening up time with God with a certain phrase can be very stabilizing in times of insecurity and transition.
I was so grateful for this practice as I weathered the adjustment to a new culture.
There were times when God seemed very quiet and I felt very alone. It was comforting to pray the words of my prayer posture and then just sit in the sanctity and intimacy that had already been created by those same words hundreds of times before.
It was like I had stirred up a current towards God that I could just float in on those days when I didn’t have the energy to swim.
There is no magical secret about this practice. Your prayers are not more effective if you take on a certain posture first. The whole goal is to honestly come into God’s presence and pay attention to him. If a prayer posture is no longer accomplishing that, ditch it!
8. It’s just life.
Leaving your home culture and building a life in a foreign country is an unusual thing. Even with our increasingly accessible world, expatriates are just a tiny percent of the global population. By relocating to a new culture, you are doing something dramatically out of the ordinary.
I was caught up in that drama at first, which made my already-heightened emotions even crazier. Every decision felt weighty. Every task felt urgent. Every prayer was desperate, and every success was a miracle.
When my body began to break down from the stress, I realized I wouldn’t be able to sustain such high intensity for much longer.
As I started to really look at my daily life, I realized it was just that—life.
I had to buy groceries and cook food. I had to pay bills and save for big purchases. I made friends, told stories, took trips, did laundry, and procrastinated the chores I wasn’t fond of.
Life was an adventure, and a challenge, and a thrill. It was also “like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone” (James 4:14 New Living Translation).
Continually remind yourself that this craziness is just life. See from God’s eternal perspective. Don’t make a bigger deal of these temporary things than they deserve.
9. Laugh at yourself.
I remember visiting a local friend’s home for the first time and meeting her elderly mother. The older woman gestured emphatically to her head when I greeted her, pulling my head down. I didn’t understand the language well enough to know what she was saying, so I very bewilderedly leaned down to tap my forehead against hers.
I learned later that it’s customary to greet elderly people with a kiss on the head. My friend’s mother got her head bopped instead because I was clueless!
There are so many funny things that happen when intelligent, capable adults suddenly find themselves bumbling around in a new culture. Don’t take yourself too seriously. If you can laugh about your mistakes, your local friends probably will, too.
I also learned the value of game nights, dance parties, karaoke, and anything else lighthearted and silly.
By moving to a new culture, you’ve introduced an immense amount of stress into your life. Temper that with occasional times to let your hair down and simply laugh as hard as you can. Trust me, those activities will do wonders for your spirit.
10. Wait it out.
In a recently released movie, a girl describes the transition to a new culture perfectly.
“You’ll feel so homesick that you’ll want to die, and there’s nothing you can do about it apart from endure it. But you will, and it won’t kill you. And one day the sun will come out – you might not even notice straight away, it’ll be that faint… And you’ll realize that this is where your life is.” (Brooklyn 2015)
Struggling to adjust to a new culture and dealing with homesickness are not signs of personal weakness or failure. They are not feelings to be ashamed of or minimized.
I often looked at other friends who had moved overseas and berated myself for struggling so much more than they seemed to. I put a huge amount of added pressure on myself to “snap out of it” and fix the problem of my culture shock as quickly as possible.
None of my desperate responses helped the situation, which only led to more disappointment and frustration. It was a vicious cycle.
Finally after many months of this downward spiral, I threw my hands up and just gave in to the fact that I was struggling. I admitted it to my friends at home and in the new culture.
It felt like settling in for a long, cold, winter hibernation. I said some difficult “no’s” and cut back on everything I could. And then, I waited for God to do his work in that season.
And he did.
Conclusion
I talk about the first “season” or “wave” of cultural transition because I don’t think it ends after the initial adjustment period is over. We will always be foreigners now—a little different, a little confusing—even when we are in our home culture again.
That identity can be challenging. But, it is also an honor.
We can take our place among the ranks of the people of faith mentioned in Hebrews 11. “They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth” (verse 13b New Living Translation). The chapter goes on to say that they were looking forward to their true homeland in heaven.
That is the hope for us, as well. There is only one place where we will ever really be at home, and Jesus is preparing it for us right now. Hope in that as you learn lessons of your own on this crazy adventure of cultural transition!
I am a Christian, and I am fasting for Ramadan. Why? Read on.
Ramadan is the Muslim holy month of prayer and fasting. During the month, Muslims do not eat during the daylight hours. This Ramadan, I and many members of our church are observing a Ramadan fast for at least one day. I’m probably only doing one day, because I turn into a raving rabid bear if I don’t eat and my husband needs his normal(ish) wife this week.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I do not believe in synchrotism, the merging of religions. I do not believe that all religions are the same or that the various religions are all ways of worshiping the same God. I hold to orthodox Christian teachings and believe that the Bible is perfectly inerrant. I am not fasting to observe Ramadan per se.
In our community, Christians and Muslims live in close proximity with close ties of friendship. I wish it were this way all over the world. Our next-door neighbor is Muslim, and he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. The day before Ramadan started, he asked us if we’d mind him using his blender to make breakfast before the sun rose. He didn’t want to disturb us while we were sleeping. We’ve had a lot of great conversations about life and about Jesus and Islam and religion and worship. He’s one of many good Muslim friends we love and respect.
In fact, those friends are the reason I am fasting for Ramadan. When Christians fast (and this may be true for other religions as well), we spend the time we would normally spend on food and dedicate it to prayer for something that weighs heavy on our hearts. The gnawing hunger throughout the day reminds us to stop and pray between mealtimes as well. What weighs heavily on my heart this Ramadan is my Muslim friends. During our day of fasting, my Christian friends and I will be praying that our Muslim friends will come to fully know Jesus and the saving power of His death and resurrection.
This is the part of my post where many people will become offended. Please do not be offended, and please keep reading. In our culture, it is somehow “wrong” to want someone to convert to your religion. As if it’s trying to steal someone from one club for another! Actually, it’s not like that. In fact, if I did not care what my friends believe, I wouldn’t be a very good friend. Here’s why:
Imagine I know that a hurricane is about to hit the island. And I know that there is only one airplane capable of flying out of the storm. Would it be loving for me to let my friends get on an airplane that I know will crash? Would it be loving for me to care more about offending them by telling them their airplane isn’t strong enough to outfly the storm? No! It would be loving to tell them about my airplane.
That’s how it is when Christian share about their faith with others and pray for them to know Jesus. We believe that the only way to Heaven is by trusting that Jesus has paid the penalty for our offenses. We believe that no amount of good works can cancel out the bad ones. We believe that a relationship with God and forgiveness of sins can only come from trusting in Jesus and his death and resurrection. And the part we hate talking about– that if you’re not headed to Heaven, you’re headed to a place that is far less pleasant.
If a Christian truly believes that, the most hateful thing we could do is not share about Jesus with others, and not want Jesus for our friends. The most loving thing we can do is tell them that Jesus has their back if they trust in him. Even if you disagree with my religious beliefs, we can at least agree on that.
Muslim friends, it is very hard for most Christians to get the nerve up to share about their faith with you. Religion is a highly volatile subject, and it is hard for many of us to bring it up. In fact, most of us will probably shy away from it and hope someone else talks to you. But we will almost always pray for you, and I hope that makes you glad. If your Christian friend talks about Jesus with you, please know that friend loves and cares about you very much.
And I love you, too. There is nothing I want more for you than to know Jesus the way I do. I long for you to know that he is God, and not just a prophet. I desire to spend eternity with you in Heaven. I hope that before we part ways, you’ll hear that from my mouth. If we never have that conversation, I believe I will have failed in our friendship in that way. Know that this Ramadan, I will be thinking of you and praying for you.
Today is a special day for us– our second anniversary! On June 7, 2014, we said “I do” at Whitton Avenue Bible Church in Phoenix, Arizona. It was a beautiful day for us, with a lovely ceremony and a fun reception afterwards! We made a promise to each other that we would spend the rest of our lives together, no matter what. It’s only been two years, but so much has happened in that time.
On June 7, 2015, we celebrated our first anniversary in Indiana. We were there for our friends Phil and McKenna’s wedding , which had been in Michigan the day before. We woke up on the seventh at our friend Marcus’ house in the Berne, Indiana, a small Swiss town. We spent the day exploring a science museum, Science Central.
Today, June 7, 2016, we spent the day on our home island, Saint Martin. Since Ben has medical school tests next week, he had to be in class for half the day. But at 3:30, he was mine– he took half the day off to be with me, even though he has a lot to do! We discovered some new hiking trails behind the causeway on the Dutch side. The trail took us and our puppy through the woods, past the Rastafarian Farm, and out into the French capitol, Marigot. We picked low-hanging tamarind seeds to snack on during the walk.
Later, we went to Advantika, a Thai restaurant that was highly recommenced to us. Finally, we went to Carousel for ice cream cake! We eat cake on the seventh of every month to celebrate our marriage. An anniversary called for something special: cookies and cream ice cream cake.
So far, we’ve celebrated both wedding anniversaries in different locations hundreds of miles apart. If things continue as expected, we’ll spend at least the next two in new places. I’ve learned many things from our journeys, but one of the most important is this: “home” doesn’t mean a specific geographical location. Rather, “home” is defined as the place your beloved is, wherever that may be.
Carnival is the biggest event of the year in the Caribbean! The island of Saint Martin is no different, and we’re lucky enough to get it twice: once on the French side and once on the Dutch side. Unfortunately, I missed all the festivities on the French side, but I did catch a few things on the Dutch side! My friends and I went to the light parade and Ben and I went to the children’s parade. We also went to the apex of Carnival: the grand Carnival parade!
The parade is filled with elaborate costumes of feathers and glitter. The colors swirled around us and music pulsed in our ears, drawing us in to the heartbeat of the festival.
The parade (and most of Carnival, really) is centered around the sensuality of a woman’s body. With so much focus on sensuality, I felt that the appreciation of people for who they are was lost somewhere behind the sequins and paint. Since this is a family-friendly blog, I want to present a different angle on Carnival than the typical. This post is a study on beauty: not the transient beauty of the revealed body, but the authentic, lifelong beauty of humanity. They say that the eye is the window to the soul, so I have decided to focus this photographic undertaking on the beautiful faces of the people in the parade. I hope that as you look at these beautiful faces, you will reflect on the wonderful miracle that is embodied in each person.
“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously – no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”
-C.S. Lewis
“So God created human beings in His own image. In His own image He created them, male and female He created them.” -Genesis 1:27
