Cultural Death- Adjustment Stage (Acceptance)

(First of all, just a note- these pictures are just ones that we have taken lately and have nothing to do with this post's content)

Within the first term the missionary will reach the adjustment stage. It will be his decision whether or not the adjustment is truly acceptance.
Here is a basic description for the reader of the outcomes of the adjustment phase (source: Wikipedia).

There are three basic outcomes of the Adjustment Phase:

1. Some people find it impossible to accept the foreign culture and integrate. They isolate themselves from the host country's environment, which they come to perceive as hostile, withdraw into a ghetto and see return to their own culture as the only way out. These Rejecters also have the greatest problems re-integrating back home after return. Approximately 60% of expatriates behave in this way.
2. Some people integrate fully and take on all parts of the host culture while losing their original identity. They normally remain in the host country forever. Approximately 10% of expatriates belong to this group of Adopters.
3. Some people manage to adapt the aspects of the host culture they see as positive, while keeping some of their own and creating their unique blend. They have no major problems returning home or relocating elsewhere. Approximately 30% of expatriates are these so-called Cosmopolitans.

Missionaries fall into these numbers just as concretely as anyone else. This is sad to me, since missionaries are supposed to be more ‘spiritual’. The common fact, though, is that three out of every four missionaries that come to the field do not return for a second term.

In my life I have been able to visit a few countries and have known many missionaries. I have been amazed as I hear many missionaries talk about their experiences on the field and listen to what they say and do not say. Many times the things that they do not say tells a listener if they are a missionary in the Rejecter group or not.

It is sad to see how many missionaries live life in this group. They work with the nationals when it is mandatory, but most of their social lives and free time is spent in the ex-patriot community. I have met many missionaries, from varying church groups, that seem to be social butterflies. They fly from each group of foreigners to the next sipping the cultural nectar.


It is common on the mission field for missionaries to send their children to international schools, to attend functions and parties hosted in the ex-patriot bubble, and to fellowship in the higher stratus of the foreign sub-community.

These missionaries, international businessmen, and non-governmental organization workers begin to form a ghetto in its truest sense. That ghetto has no permanent residents, since most of the people that join it are discontent and move themselves from the country of their services. But just like the standing water so common in the African rainy season, just as the old waters evaporate the new rains come and add to the supply. So in each country around the world a traveler can find his cultural ghetto. These ghettos as normally filled with the culturally stagnant. The people in them enjoy the fellowship immensely, but it is just a support group for them, until they can reach their home culture. I am not trying to be harsh but honest. Many times when people visit these ghettos, if they are not deep in cultural death themselves, they see the bubble and its impact on the people that live in it.

If the reader has ever visited rural Pennsylvania Amish country, or the Jewish, Chinese or Greek parts of New York City, he will understand. Inside these communities there is a bubble. Drive through parts of Lancaster, PA, and a person feels as if they have gone back in time. Walk through the streets of Little Italy or China Town, a person feels as if he is in another nation. This is how the ex-patriot bubble feels in many nations. Step into these groups and in the midst of foreign country there is a piece of the travelers homeland (of course depending on the location and it limitation, it might only be a cheap copy of the homeland).


Let me tell the reader a personal story to help explain. When my wife and I were new arrivals to Ghana (I think we had been here for about four months), we were invited to an ex-patriot Thanksgiving get-together. Picture this: here we were riding in a taxi down a dusty African road, when we came to the destination. Outside was a normal African estate area - children running around playing football, and a few women selling food stuffs on the road sides, the air filled with the sites and sounds of normal West African life. Then the door to compound opened up. We were ushered inside by the gate man, along with the other white pilgrims, coming on their yearly trip to their cultural Mecca! The yard was half paved concrete and half grass. Every bush was pruned, the grass was green and full, the house was sparklingly clean. There were at least ten to twenty Land Rovers and SUVs parked outside. The driveway was covered in decorated tables and chairs. The yard was filled with foreign children playing together with balls and games. At every table, in every corner, and under every tree sat groups of white foreigners. They were chatting, eating, laughing. For an American in a foreign land, this seemed like the smell of home-made apple pie. There was a comfort to the scene. Everything made sense -- the way people were dressed (most were in cargo shorts and t-shirts), the way they were talking, and the eating of ‘normal’ foods. It all called to the memory a community party at home.


But, not too long into the party, my cultural radar started going off. My wife and I had been living in a local community with the local people. We were even living in a local apartment with a national pastor. After four months of total immersion, we had started to see a little bit of how Africans lived: how much money they had, what kinds of food they ate, what they saw as expensive, so on. The first thing that caught my attention was the subjects that people were talking about. Some groups were talking about problems with the ‘local’ house-help, others the difficulty of getting a favorite food, others the corruption of government, etc. etc. etc. Basically after just a few minutes each group would start to talk about something different in Ghana from their home country, and each time the pressure cooker of culture shock would start to sputter and whistle.

Now don’t get me wrong, I took part of enough of this in my own way and at my own time, but at this time, I was still in the honeymoon stage, and all this complaining started to get to me.
But the thing that got to me most was the carelessness that the ex-patriots seemed to have around the nationals that were working that day. The woman that hosted the party had two maids and one cook serving food. There were also three young men tending the drink stands and bbq outside. The nationals outside had the job of roasting and carving the hog (the family had bought a male pig, weighing about 150 pounds, and had the whole thing roasted for the party). They just watched as the foreigners consumed massive amounts of meat and rich foods. I wish that I spoke Twi then like a do now. I can just imagine what they said when they spoke to each other in Twi, “Look at that guy, that is his fifth time for pig meat!” “Did you see that white lady? She’s huge! Her husband must have a good job to keep her fed!” “I hope they let us eat some of this when they are finished. I could eat off this for a week!” (I have since heard Ghanaians say some of these things about foreigners when they did not know I spoke the local language).

At this party there was turkey (super expensive here in Ghana), chicken, every foreign food imaginable. The workers just sat in their corners or at their tables, only talking to guests when asked for food. They watched all the consumption. They seemed to count every bite, each dollar of mineral (coca-cola) drank. They seemed to be keeping a running total. We foreigners were eating in one sitting what they would make in salary over three or four months.

Please, do not get me wrong. It is not wrong to eat nice food just because some people are poor, but it was difficult to eat that roasted pig knowing that these men could not even afford a feast like that if they were getting married. Please understand. I know that parties are not wrong. Even poor Africans have times when they gather together to feast and celebrate, spending many times their yearly salary for the party. The thing that bothered me at this party was not all the excess, but the spirit of the gathering. The spirit of the gathering caused the excess. The money was spent, because a gathering of foreigners could never be given local fare. Foreigners need the foreign foods, and they need the very best. It needed to be like a picnic overseas. The money did not matter. The atmosphere and experience is what mattered. The gathering of friends was not the goal, since most people there did not even know each other. It was a "gather-away" in reality. These people were coming together to get away from the local scene. That is why it cost so much and seemed so different. In the end, Patty and I left as fast as we could. The saddest part to me about the whole thing was that the host family were ‘Christians’, and I am sure that during the whole party the ‘Pagan’ helpers heard more complaining, grousing, and insults about the local people, than loving words or testimonies for Christ.


This is the kind of trap that many missionaries fall into on the field. There is an old saying, “Misery loves company.” Many missionaries passing through cultural woes find these kinds of cultural ghettos or gatherings and do not escape until they leave the field after their first term or many years later. Sadly, no matter how long they stay on the field, they are never really happy in their new homes.

Most missionaries end up in this first group. They are just like the 60% of foreigners that travel overseas and face culture shock. Some fall into the other groups. A few that make up the 10% become Adopters. Many times they are married to nationals, or submerse themselves, planning on their families never returning to their home countries. I met a girl in college who’s parents fell into this group. In her 18 years of living in France, she had never returned to the States. She could not speak more than elementary English (though she was American) and attended public French schools. When she finished high school, and her visa to stay in France expired, her parents bought her a plane ticket to America and sent her “home”. Needless to say, she did not adjust well. She was not American; she was French!

If a missionary or foreign family is planning on being true immigrants, this is a great attitude to take. If they are planning on having their children return to their home culture, though, this is not advisable.

Last of all is the Cosmopolitan group. I believe this is the group that has accepted their cultural death. They know that if they are to continue to live in their new host culture and be happy, they will have to adapt. They must accept the death of their own culture and begin to become part of the new. In reality, they form a new third culture. They become part of two worlds. They have adopted parts of the host culture and can freely move inside this new culture, but they have the ability to relate and re-adjust when they return to their home culture. It is true that the longer the person remains in their host culture, the greater will be their reverse culture shock, but these Cosmopolitans have learned their place in the world, and can make this change.


I believe the key to the Cosmopolitans success is acceptance. They have learned that frustration and anger will not change anything and have learned to accept the culture with all it beauty marks and scars.

Here again is the definition of acceptance according to the grieving stages.

Acceptance:
This final stage comes with peace and understanding of the death that is approaching. Generally, the person in the fifth stage will want to be left alone. Additionally, feelings and physical pain may be non-existent. This stage has also been described as the end of the dying struggle.

The basic truth is this: the only way a missionary will have peace is if they come to accept that they will have to die to their cultural thinking and learn to accept the parts of the host culture that are not un-Biblical or harmful to their health or family. When they surrender all that they are to God, even their culture, then they will have peace. God will give them a new home and a great life!

Cultural Death- Depression Stage

Depression (Loneliness):
During the fourth stage, the dying person begins to understand the certainty of death. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect themselves from things of love and affection.

Example - "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die . . . What's the point?"; "I miss my loved one, why go on?"

This is probably one of the hardest stages for a missionary, if they reach this point. My wife seemed to pass through this stage much more than myself. I do remember times near the end of our second and third years on the field, when it was about a year to six months before we returned on furlough. At these times, I would have overwhelming feelings of nostalgia. I would remember my family, friends, with great fondness. At times I would like to sit and think about all the wonderful things of the past, and could feel quite lonely in our new home. The hardest part at this time was the language barrier. Our first term we learned very little of the local language. I remember times that the depression came because I felt that I was going to live the rest of my life in a bubble. I could see people, but I felt that I could not contect with them. It was very lonely at times, and as a missionary the person feels as if they might spend the rest of their life that way.

For the most part, I did not deal to greatly with depression or loneliness, but for my wife it was another matter. Patty, has grown up her whole life with very close friends. She has been best friends with one since pre-school times. She has passed through elementary school, junior high, high school, and even college with a strong support base of friends. Then we moved to Ghana. For the first time in her life she had no frineds, and no way to communicate with new people. It was very difficult.

In Ghana, more often then not, men are educated before the women, and if a choice has to be made in the family about which child is to be educated, it is always the boy first. For this reason many more men speak English than women. This fact made it very hard for my wife in our first church.

The first church that we worked in held very strongly to the idea that the services and work of the church should only be performed in English. This meant that I had a number of men to fellowship with, but almost no women for my wife to fellowship with. We did have grown women that attended the services, but most of them just came with their families and children, but did not understand a word of the preaching or teaching. When services ended the Twi speaking ladies would form their groups and enjoy their conversation, but this left my wife out. She would try to speak with them, but the conversations would not pass much beyond the formal English greetings that they knew, and the little broke Twi that my wife could speak at that time. Needless to say, my wife felt quite alone. (We praise the Lord that this has changed, and in our new church, my wife has many friends and can speak freely with the ladies in Twi and some of them in English).

My wife is quite a strong lady, and does not complain, but there where times that it was very overwhleming. There where many nights that we would talk, and Patty would tell me that she felt very lonely. She used to have so many friends, but now she had nothing. She felt like she could not make friends, and that she was going to have to live the rest of here life with just surface relationships, but nothing deeper. It was difficlut, but it drove her to the Lord.

I believe that God used this time to brake Patty and make himself more real to her. Patty final gave her rights to the Lord. She told Him that if He wanted her to have friends, than that was fine, but if not, He would be her true friend. There had to be a dieing to self, before peace would come. Patty has passed through this stage and no longer suffers from depression and loneliness. A missionary needs to know that they will suffer times of great depression. Our friends in Poland have confirmed this, as well as many books that I have read about missioaries.

Hudson Taylor states in his journals that there where times as a early missionary where he walked through very dark days of depression in China, but as he followed the Light of the world the darkness began to leave, and slowly victory over the depression came. James Frazer, a famous missionary said that at times in his early ministry with the Lisu of the High Mountains, he would be so depressed that he would think of throwing himself off the mountains to excape. But, these men of God knew that these feelings where just a stage and a weakness of the flesh. These feelings are just the emotions that come when the flesh refuses to die. But, when a person looks to His Savior and hope comes depression will melt away.

Some missionary will stuggle with this stage more than others. I suffered with anger much longer than depression, where as my wife suffered with depression much longer than anger. But we must all pass through the stages, and let God use them to work in us. The joy of it all is to learn more about oneself, and more about the Savior. And if someone will pass thorugh this stage, then they can finally reach the last stage of all, which is ACCEPTANCE!

Cultural Death- Bargaining Stage

Here is a quote from Wikipedia to remind the reader what the bargaining stage is like:

Bargaining-
The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay death. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made with a higher power in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. Psychologically, the person is saying, "I understand I will die, but if I could just have more time...”

Example - "Just let me live to see my children graduate."; "I'll do anything for a few more years."; "I will give my life savings if..."

As a missionary passing through cultural death I passed through this stage. During the first term on the missions field this stage begins. Normal it starts between their second and third year, if they are on a four year schedule.

It starts because they realize that being angry will not change anything, and that they have no real power to change the culture as a whole. To a person from our fix everything American way, this is a bitter pill to swoll. The missionary begins to understand that if he continues to live in his host country he will be forced to endure cultural death. So he starts to bargain with God!

I remember doing this. I would say or think things like this: "God I know that you called me to Ghana, but if you change your mind that is fine with me!" "Lord, if I work really hard could you make Ghana have a coup, and I will promise to be a good pastor in the United States." "Lord, if you just allow me to make it to fulrough, I will find a place in America that has a large population of Ghananians, and I will start a ministry there with them", and even more, "Lord, if I serve you and start one church, could you have a college or mission board call me and ask me to work for them!" or "Lord, I will serve you very hard, please, just let me retire in the States!"

These are all real things that I prayed to God. I was bargaining with him, like a person in Ghana bargains with a food fender. People fear death (at least the unsaved do), but I know as a missionary cultural death is hard to. No one wants to die, and we will do anything to delay the inevitable.

I just have one thing to say about this stage. The Bible says in John 12:24 "Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit". The only way a person is truly not alone, is if they are willing to die to God's will.

As a missionary we are on the field, because God has called us to that location. Until be accept that and die to our own cultural world, we will remain alone. We will keep everything and everyone at a distance. But, if we die, the process can start, and God will give us fruit. Here is a promise that God gave me from His Word, when I passed through this time of bargaining.

Mark 10:29-30 And Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's, But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life.

The great thing about being a missionary is that a person gets more: He has two homes, two countries, two famiies, two languages, two worlds!!!!!!!! We do not have less, we have so much more! I thank God for it all, and I feel that I am one of the most blessed people I know.

Cultural Death- Anger Stage

I read a quote from Isobel Kuhn that I did not understand until I became a missionary. It goes like this: "When you move to the mission field the scum of your nature raises to the surface." I have read this sentence many times since I have arrived on the field six years ago, and every word of it is true.

I spent a lot of time as a boy playing outside. And a lot of that time outside was spent in creeks and ponds. Creeks are amazing. Before a boy starts to play in one, it is clear A person can see the bottom, and might even drink out of it, if he is really thirsty, but once the boy starts to play in it, the creek is transformed. That clear water is changed, after just a few minutes of his kicking, splashing, and playing; the water is all mud and scum. No clear water can be seen then.

What is this magic that little boys has? Does the little devil carry a ton of dirt in his pockets, or maybe he just bulldozes the whole creek bed into the stream! No, we all know the problem. The boy might be the source of the agitation, but he is not the source of the scum. It was there all along, lying on the bottom of the creek, just waiting to be stirred. Once the boy comes, it covers everything, it sticks to his feet, and it fills the water.

This creek is just like the missionary. His life is quietly and peacefully flowing in its normal pattern. The passer-by might look at him in admiration, amazed at the steady course and cleanness of his life. But all the passer-by sees is the waters. They see the missionary at his home, but what they do not see is the scum of his nature, the sinfulness that lies at the bottom of his heart, that is just waiting to resurface.

The amazing thing though, is that the missionary does not see it either. Most missionaries, I would like to think, begin to believe the many things that they hear about themselves while on deputation. After so many months of oohhhs and ahhhs, the complements, the praises, the status as a Christian demi-god (at least publicly), begins to take their toll. Now, the good missionary will never admit this to himself, that would be pride, but in his heart he does begin to think he has done something special. This super-human act must of course be done by someone that is slightly super-human if not above average. Of course this is a generalization, but I can say that is was quite true in my case.

Here is where all this scum and pride meets cultural death. The missionary has now been in country for six to nine months, the wonderful people that he has been called to reach are not so wonderful anymore, and there is a problem. He does not understand himself or them. They do things that are so different, irritating, and sometimes just wicked. He tries to understand the explanations given to him, but it is all gibberish. They are doing things that are not just wrong, but just fundamentally unheard of! The locals are calling day night, and night day. But, what is worse is that they defend these actions, thoughts and feelings. They call them right and look amazed when they are challenged. The missionary beings to wonder what he has been called to, he knew that he was called to the unsaved, the worldly, the wicked, but these people are starting to seem like… insufferable monsters, how can he reach them, At times he feels impotent, the course of events flows to fast for his immature mind in his new culture. All these thoughts build, and just like heat lighting in the African dry season, a bolt of white hot lighting shear the scene. Someone pressed a button! Boom!!! It takes a few moments for the senses to clear, and the blinding light of rage to pass, but he walks away confused. He asks himself, “What is wrong with these people?” If he is not careful everything they do reminds him of their differences, and this is even more so if he is in a place of a different language, race, and standard of living. Before long he is just angry. That scum is stirred by cultural agitation.

His anger can take a few forms now: either he will get angry when he thinks it is safe (i.e.- take it out on the family, because they will always love them), or he will find targets for his rage (i.e.- people in the culture that most represent the difference).

But sooner or later the anger will come out. Some missionary just get angry at the difficulties, but many get angry at the injustices. Their righteous wrath begins to smoke and the nationals hear again and again, “Well, in the states we do it like this…” or “That is not right, you should do it this way…” or “Where I come from…” on and on it goes.

This is the stage marked by the most activity. The missionary is not in denial, but is not to the stage of just crawling through. He sets out to mend and fix. Active is his by word. He has a plan. If it is not to fix the whole messed-up nation at least he can fix the people around him. He is like a boiling pot of water; he does not know that the motion comes from the heat of the cultural flames.

This is the stage many missionaries leave the field. The problem is that their pots begin to blow and if they are not careful they cook dry. I meet a young couple that had been in the Caribbean for six months that was passing through this stage. They had returned to raise some more support, when I meet them at a church. We talked at restaurant and I told them of my own experience with cultural shock, and told them that there where many times I was angry and even hated individuals God had called me to. I told them it was just a stage, which would pass if they looked to the Lord. Well, the young man was just passing from denial to anger, and did not agree. He said he was not going through culture shock, but I could tell he was angry. I can still remember the fire in his eyes and the curl of his lip as he described the people of the island. A person would have thought that he was talking about someone that had killed a relative not the people that he had committed to serve. But, he was in the midst of cultural death, and to him they where killing something… his way of life! I was not surprise when I heard a year or so later that they had left the field. Sometimes the anger boils too much, and all we think that we can do is run away.

I will say for me, the hardest thing about the anger is what it told me about myself. I knew I had a temper before I got saved, but that had been broken. I did not struggle with being angry, or so I thought before I came to the field. But I soon learned that I was flesh and blood, and that I could sin, and would sin.

I can remember a few times in my own experience where anger consumed me. There are numerous time to be truthful. I had many times while driving (we had a car for about two years) where the people of our city where staring as a crazy white man shouted out of his windows and yelled near Twi curse-words at drivers. I had times of rage as people asked me for money for doing the jobs that they where paid to do, or for doing things that should have been just simple civic duties. But the crowning story is our trip to Takoradi for vacation. I will try to relate it to you quickly and only tell you the needed details.

Here are the basics: I had newly bought a car, not knowing that the tags had expired, since here we write things day, month, year, not month, day and year, as in the United States. We decided to take a trip in our new car to another city on the ocean for a week trip. When we left on Monday we where quickly stopped at our first road block and discovered our old tags, and promised to correct them after returning to Kumasi. After about eight hours of stopping and going and one flooded road, on our four hours trip, we reached Takoradi. To reach our hotel we would have to cross the city, go about three miles out of town and find the hotel. This is when it all happened. We where just a mile away from our destination, when we where stopped again. Here I will try to give some more details.

We had a small four door hatch back fully loaded down, with no room to spare, except the small spot for Carey’s car set. From a police barricade a police officers began to wave for us to stop. So I pulled over and he approached our car. Before we could see our old stickers, and since I had already been through this same process eight times that day, I decided that the direct approach was in order. I told the officer that I knew that my stickers where bad, that I needed to change them, and that I would as soon as I arrived back in Kumasi. To this the officer demanded to see my license and passport, so that he could confiscate them. Here came the lighting bolt, a person could feel the energy in the air. When he told me that he wanted my passport, I told him no way, I was an American citizen, my passport was American property and he could not touch it. He demanded my license, and I gave it to him. I was hot. Once he had my license, he walked away. Patty and I sat in the chair and ranted at each other and the officer. Finally I decided that enough was enough, I was standing up for my rights. I opened the door, and slammed it, and walk over to the officer. (Please remember there are three officers, and they all have large guns). I thought that I had rights, this man was being unreasonable, I was not a local person, he could not push me around. So I walked up to him, and in a very firm voice said, “I am leaving right now, and you will give me back my license right NOW!” To which the officer told me that I was under arrest (by the way, the police here arrest everyone for everything, so that they can be paid to release the offender). He marched back to my car, telling me that I had to drive him to the police station where he would keep me. As he approached my car, my wife says to the man, “Where are you going to sit, on my lap” (remember the car is full), to this the officer started pointing his gun. Finally he walked away, and was very angry. I sat in the car with my wife and finally after the man got more angry and started to wave his gun more, we decided to drive off. Yes, I drove off.

After getting to the hotel, I flagged a taxi, and went to the police station. On the way I explained everything to the taxi driver, who laughed in my face. He told me I was an ignorant ‘broni’- foreigner, and told me that if I had just paid the guy some money I would have had not problems. After about five minutes, we reached the station. I was meet by the sergeant, and after the office from the road arrived, everything got interesting. Basically to make it short, they wanted to arrest me, lock me up, asked me if I would done that in my country (Which I wouldn’t have), and told me I had to pay a fine.

I thought that the whole thing was crazy, the guy had waved a guy at my wife and baby, but the taxi driver took my outside and to me to shut up and follow his led. We went back inside, I was literally forced to plead for mercy and told to ask forgiveness. After this the taxi driver and the sergeant bargained over my “fine” and off we went with my license. It was a long three hour ordeal.

Needless, to say I am much embraced about this story. But it is true. I was in the anger stage of cultural death. I can remember this and other things that I did that I pray that I will never do again. The anger was real, but I did not follow the Bible at these moments. The Bible says, “Be angry and sin not!” That is not what I did.

Anger during culture shock is understandable. As a missionary, a person is confused, out of focus. But, that anger should not cause us to sin. I believe that the main reason most missionaries to not complete their first term is that when they reach this stage, and they see how wicked they are, they will not accept it. They will not admit they are the wicked one. Most missionaries at this point are still to convinced of their holiness, and so they blame the nationals, laws, or customs. They do not see that it is not these things that are the scum, but their own nature.

I have been through the anger stage, long and hard. It taught me a lot about myself. I saw who I was and what I was capable of doing. This are not easy things to learn about, but they are very important if God is going to brake a missionary and use him. I hope to never see some of those things again, but I am glad I had to face them.

I want to say this to new missionaries going to go through this stage, and missionaries going through, You can make it! If a person turns to God, and lets God teach him about himself, he will make it. The key is that a missionary can not blame the nationals for his failings, and must wait on God through prayer and the Word to keep filling his pot. Sure, the fire will make it roll at time, but if God keep filling it with water, instead of it charring, it will clean the pot.

For those that are reading this that will never be missionaries, please pray. Anger is a hard enemy to face, but it can be defeated. A missionary is only as strong as his prayer support, so please pray.

**(For further reading about the struggles of missionaries please read these book: In the Arena, Behind the Ranges, Hudson Taylor and Maria- Pioneer missionaries, Have we no Right)

Cultural Death- Denial Stage

The funny thing about going through denial is that a person can only see it after they have passed through it. It is the nature of the problem. There is a proverb in West Africa that says, “A bird that flies from the ground onto an anthill does not know that it is still on the ground” Many times as new missionaries we think our activity means that we have accomplished something, but in reality we have not even gotten off the ground.

I remember this stage well. I thought that because I had left America and traveled to Ghana, that I was… well, done with the struggles and on to the victory. For a new missionary on deputation, departure is the big focus. That is what everyone asks him -- “So, when are you leaving for the field?” After awhile, he thinks that if he can just get to the field, everything will be fine. Departure is the end. The checkered flag will wave, and he will be the winner. But, departure is just a jump onto the anthill. It is a beginning, but he is not in the sky yet.

I remember when we got to the field. The first night in Ghana I was scared out of my mind. I laid awake all night thinking, ‘What in the world are you doing????’ I kept looking at my watch -- it had the ability to keep two times, and it was set for America and Ghana. I remember that at about 3:00 in the morning I finally set the American time to Ghana time. I remember that I went to sleep after that, and I thought that I had won my battle with culture shock. Yes, in one night, I was high in the mountains of cultural acceptance, but I had no clue that I was just sitting on the anthill of denial.

The next months went by quickly. We found out that we were not going to live in the port city of Tema and would not be working with a veteran missionary. God guided us to our present home of Kumasi, and we began to live in the home of a Nigerian pastor and began our work in his church. The months were filled with new colors, languages, foods, and feelings. But through it all, we marched in this foggy stage of half-awareness.

I still remember our arrival in our local apartment. It was a three bedroom local style place on the third floor in the midst of Anloga community. (I will take the time here to describe our first home- Anloga is a local community that is made up mostly of Ewe people, a sub-group in our city. It covers about ½ square mile, but is densely populated, probably about 20,000 to 25,000 people. They are mostly people living in square one-floor houses, with no in-house toilets, and each room being occupied by one family. All five to ten families in these compounds share the courtyard of the house. The courtyards are always open to the sky. Our house was different in that is was a half square and multi-stored. Our portion of the square was walled off with a half wall and door for more privacy. We had three rooms, two of which were bedrooms, (One for Patty and I, and one for Pastor Samson), and there was also a kitchen that consisted of a table, refrigerator and wall faucet for water with a drain. The bathroom was two parts, one room being a pit shower, and the other room being the water closet with a toilet. It was very local, but we have a lot of fond memories about the months that we stayed there.)

Back to our arrival -- the veteran missionary that helped us for our first few months showed us around. When we got to the shower room, there was a huge red cockroach on the wall. Brother Mark just smiled and said, “That’s George, our pet cockroach, just turn on the light and splash some water on him, and he will go away!” Well, his humor helped, and we laughed and took it all in. The first few months were lived in a smiling stupor. Everything was great! Cooking on our one electric burner was an adventure, washing and bathing from a bucket was exciting, and the constant smell of cook fires was exotic.

Please understand, I do not regret anything, and to me they are normal now, and I have never suffered much as a missionary, but I mention all this to make a point. I was in a totally new place, with new ideas, new sounds, and new experiences, but I was in this stage of denial. I thought that it was all great! I was at home, it did not matter that everything was different; I was not going through culture shock.

But just like with grief, things started hitting me. I had to admit that things were different and that I was going to have to adjust. Here I will relate two stories to the reader. One is quite funny. I think that I had been in Ghana for about two months, and Patty and I were trying very hard not to get malaria. I had gotten a new cell phone and was trying to call my family. The phones at the time did not have good antennas, and I had to sit outside to call because of the concrete house. So here I was, it was hot season in Ghana, about 95 to 100 degree, it was 7:00 pm at night, and I had to go outside on the balcony to make my call. But what about the mosquitoes? I really wanted to talk to my family. So there I went. I think Pastor Samson must have thought I was crazy. I had running pants on, socks and sandals, a tee-shirt, a hoodie, and was wrapped in a blanket from head to toe so that I could not get bitten. I was cooking alive; the sweat was rolling off me, as I made that 20 minute call. Finally, I got to my room and sat in front of the fan in just my shorts for about 10 minutes. (Luckily we are not so paranoid after six years). That broke through the fog! I was starting to dislike all this wonderful mission field stuff.

The second story centers around our meat shop. We had been in Ghana about nine to ten months and Carey was about six months old. We have shopped at this same meat shop since we have been in Ghana. On this particular day it was really hot, and I was not in the best of moods. I was really starting to feel the culture crunch. The youngest of the three brothers that own the shop was waiting on us. He was about 19 years old then, and he made this comment: “Pastor John, give me your daughter, I want to marry here, she is very beautiful!” Now remember my daughter was only a few months old, and this guy was a teenager. My wife says that I just started fuming; the smoked poured out my ears; I got this hateful look in my eyes. I remember the rage that I felt. I was thinking, “What in the world, is this guy some kind of pervert, I am going to kill him!” I was shocked! After a curt response, I had to go outside to cool down, even though it was 105 degrees in the sun! After we got in the taxi, Patty looked at me with one of her concerned looks, and asked, “Are you ok?” To which I said, “I’m fine,” I was still seething inside, “It is that guy that has a problem. I mean what is his deal? I just don’t get it!” The fog had finally burned away.

Here in Africa, when a person travels in the early morning he will see fog everywhere in the bush, and everything is cool and wet, but by 8:00 a.m. the sun will begin to shine brightly and the heat will make all the fog disappear. This is just like cultural death. At first everything is cool and foggy, but once the sun beats on him long enough, that fog will disappear and he will pass to his next stage, ANGER!

I did not know that I was in denial until that day, until the anger surfaced, but I was! I had been setting on that anthill, looking down, but when the ants bit, I knew. If the reader is a missionary in this stage, he will say, “That was you, but that is not happening to me!”

My response to them is simple: he might not see it now, but soon he will. There are always signs when a person is in denial. The greatest sign is their quest for the ‘normal’, the things that reminds them of life before the mission field. They just want to forget the loss and hold on to the past. A new missionary will love to search for American foods in the grocery store; will love watching movies and shows from home; will obsessively email, write, and call friends and family; and most of all he will hunger for fellowship with people from his home culture. All these things point to the same undeniable fact -- he is in denial! He wants the old, but is stuck in the new.

At this point a missionary will make some very important decisions. He will seek to isolate himself. As the Congo proverb says- a single bracelet does not jingle. He will not have to think or hear the sounds of cultural difference if he just stays in his single world view. Or, he will realize the problem and start to deal with it. He will force himself deeper into the cultural waters and swim to the other side. But no matter what he does, if he stays in the foreign country he will pass to the second stage.

The Cultural Death-

I have been reminded of my own passage through culture shock of late. We have new missionary friends that have now been on the field for six months, and we are beginning to see the early signs of culture shock that they are going through.

It is nice to be able to remember my own experience of culture shock with that detachment that only comes from the passing of time. I have been through it, and can remember all the stages and pain, but like with all things, those feelings have become less painful with time.

Just some picture from the last year!

Culture shock is a life-changing event. It has the power to transform a person’s life for good or bad! I have personally seen and have heard of many missionaries and expatriates that have been scared by culture shock. The amazing thing, though, is that for those that allow it, it can transform them for good. It can be a tool God greatly uses in their lives.


Rodney Ruppel, a long term missionary in Cambodia, explained culture shock like this: Culture shock is the hardest and most difficult thing a missionary can pass through. It is like dealing with the grief of loss, but not just the loss of one person, but a whole way of life. It is like every family member, friend, and Christian Brother or Sister all dying at once. A missionary’s way of life, language, and everything that he identifies with is suddenly gone. This level of loss is culture shock in its deepest form. It is no wonder, when culture shock is put in these terms, why it is said that 75% of all missionaries leave the field during or just after their first term.

For a missionary to pass through culture shock and remain on the field, he must walk down a pathway of death. He must allow God’s calling on his life to force him to be separated from all that he knows is normal, and be willing to die to what he knows of himself.

The best way to describe this process is Luke 9:23, And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.


To help future missionaries and ones that are currently going through this process of culture shock, I want to talk about the stages of culture shock and grieving, and discuss my personal journey through my own cultural death.

Before I start this short series of blogs I want to say a few things: first, cultural shock is real, and every missionary staying outside their home culture goes through it. Second, culture shock must be dealt with. Thirdly and finally, culture shock in its self is not unspiritual, it is a fact, when a person has culture shock he is not unspiritual. It is how a person deals with this cultural death that will determine how they grow spiritually.
The first thing that I want to give the new missionary is an understanding of the process of culture shock, which can be understood more fully as cultural death. Culture shock is broken up into three major parts: the honeymoon phase, the negotiation phase, the adjustment phase. Here is a basic description of culture shock and its stages:


Culture shock refers to the anxiety and feelings (of surprise, disorientation, uncertainty, confusion, etc.) felt when people have to operate within a different and unknown cultural or social environment, such as a foreign country. It grows out of the difficulties in assimilating the new culture, causing difficulty in knowing what is appropriate and what is not. This is often combined with a dislike for or even disgust (morally or aesthetically) with certain aspects of the new culture.

Phases of culture shock
(These stages only fully occur for people that reside in another culture for an extended period of time.)

Honeymoon Phase - During this period the differences between the old and new culture are seen in a romantic light, wonderful and new. For example, in moving to a new country, an individual might love the new foods, the pace of the life, the people's habits, the buildings and so on.


Negotiation Phase - After some time, differences between the old and new culture become apparent and may create anxiety. One may long for food the way it is prepared in one's native country, may find the pace of life too fast or slow, may find the people's habits annoying, disgusting, and irritating etc. This phase is often marked by mood swings caused by minor issues or without apparent reason. Depression is not uncommon.


Adjustment Phase - Again, after some time, one grows accustomed to the new culture and develops routines. One knows what to expect in most situations and the host country no longer feels all that new. One becomes concerned with basic living again, and things become more "normal".
(SOURCE: Wikipedia online- Culture shock)


With this basic knowledge a person can understand the theoretical side of culture shock, but to more fully understand a missionary’s experience, before I discuss my own journey, we have to understand that the missionary’s culture shock more closely mimics the grieving pattern in all its points then the simple culture shock model.
Here is a basis run down of grief as described by Wikipedia:
The five step grieving mode was first introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book "On Death and Dying". It was described, in five distinct stages, a process by which people deal with grief and tragedy, especially when diagnosed with a terminal illness or catastrophic loss.

Stages
1) Denial:
Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of situations and individuals that will be left behind after death.

Example - "I feel fine."; "This can't be happening, not to me."

2) Anger:
Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. Any individual that symbolizes life (or the person lost) is subject to projected resentment and jealousy, or the opposite feelings of attachment.

Example - "Why me? It's not fair!"; "How can this happen to me?"


3) Bargaining:
The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay death. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made with a higher power in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. Psychologically, the person is saying, "I understand I will die, but if I could just have more time...”

Example - "Just let me live to see my children graduate."; "I'll do anything for a few more years."; "I will give my life savings if..."

4) Depression (Loneliness):
During the fourth stage, the dying person begins to understand the certainty of death. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect themselves from things of love and affection.

Example - "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die . . . What's the point?"; "I miss my loved one, why go on?"


5) Acceptance:
This final stage comes with peace and understanding of the death that is approaching. Generally, the person in the fifth stage will want to be left alone. Additionally, feelings and physical pain may be non-existent. This stage has also been described as the end of the dying struggle.

Example - "It's going to be okay."; "I can't fight it, I may as well prepare for it."
Kübler-Ross originally applied these stages to people suffering from terminal illness, and later to any form of catastrophic personal loss (job, income, freedom). This may also include significant life events such as the death of a loved one, divorce, drug addiction, or an infertility diagnosis.

Now that we have laid a good foundation, I hope in the next few blogs to relate my own experience of passing through cultural death. As any missionary knows that has remained on the mission field, culture shock is very real and personal, but if it is given to God it can change your life for the better.