Complacency

Have you ever thought how easy it is to get complacent? How easy it is to go from brightly burning, on-fire passion and action for God to doing church-ly, American christianism-ly stuff and accepting it as your daily dose of doing something Godly?

Let me share from my own life.

Up until approximately 3 weeks ago, I had a vibrant, thriving devotional time in which I was becoming more on fire for God. I was reading Acts. I was reading Radical, by David Platt. I was becoming increasingly on fire for God in a counter-culture way. I was becoming more aware of the state of what I've come to call cultural christianity or American christianism instead of Christianity. I was, to use the popular vernacular, becoming woke to the reality of the urgency, direction, and mission of genuine, Biblical Christianity.

Then life happened.

My father-in-law unexpectedly passed away.
We traveled to be with family, to help put affairs in order, to be present for the visitation, to be at the funeral.
Not to mention my wife was 28-29 weeks pregnant at the time and we were preparing for the baby shower shortly after the funeral.
And we've had visitors at the house for a few days after the shower.
On top of having clinical rotations and exams for school
There's been life piling up and my time with God has been pushed to the back burner.

Fast forward to today.
I'm continuing in the exact same readings I have been doing and it's just not hitting me the same way. I see the words on the page and I'm just mentally bobbing my head, thinking "mmhmm," like a drowsy Baptist deacon during the sermon, whereupon the realisation hits me of where I am, leading me to reflect.

Without thinking, I respond to myself in defense that I'm still doing the various Godly things in my life that I'm supposed to do, when I realise that I'm not. What I've been doing and the way I've been acting is about a Godly and Christian as gun rights and school choice - which is to say, more American conservative than Christian. In the span of 3 weeks, particularly the last week, I have slid unwittingly from having the mind, heart, and passion of Christ, to having the mind, heart, and passion of the American dream.

The moral of this story, then, is to be on guard. The enemy has a clever deception in American christianism. From outward appearances, it has the perception of Christianity, as our culture falsely perceives Christianity, without the actual truth of Christianity. It is that form of godliness covering worldliness that Paul warns Timothy against and which we must stay on guard against. It is a subtle poison, pervasive and insidious in its effects.

The Clan Grows

So, I've got some exciting news for everyone...

Introducing: Cross & Stethoscope

Exciting news:

I've started a new blog that actually has a direct purpose. Whereas TCM was built more for my odd ramblings and musings as they come, this new blog, Cross and Stethoscope, is going to be a life chronicle of where God is taking me though service, medicine, and missions.

It'll be a weekly blog, being published every Monday, with the odd extra bit thrown in mid-week. Monday is the guarantee, though.

Option C

I've not been a fan of Trump or Hillary from the beginning. With Hillary, it's been the pending trial - I already have one president with "postponed" investigations (approx 783 of them, to be specific) and I don't want a second. With Trump, it's been his character and demeanour - from the get-go, he's struck me as a populist and demagogue, the likes of which I used to see every election in South Africa or a neighbouring country.

Now, courtesy of my South African upbringing, I am not overly close-minded to minor political parties. After all, at least one new party is formed every election back home. In previous years, I had dismissed third parties as a trivial waste of a vote, especially when there was a candidate I didn't mind voting for.

I watched in horror as Dr Carson, Rubio, and Kasich, the three Republican candidates that I, as a conservative-leaning moderate felt able to vote for, fell before the steamroller that was Trump. I admire Kasich for his conviction and unwillingness to step down - his tenacity spoke volumes about his character and, as more came out about him, I continued to be impressed, but I digress.

Seeing the Trump/Hillary split, I began researching third party options. I was only familiar with the Libertarian and Green parties and so, settled on Johnson as my choice for president. Now, yes, I've heard the arguments from Trump/Hillary supporters that "A vote for a third party is a vote for Hillary/Trump," and I happen to disagree wholeheartedly. Yes, electoral college muddies things up, but a third party vote is not a vote in favour of "The Opposition"; it is a vote in favour of that specific third party. Consider the following opinion:

Comment from discussion I want to vote third party, but....

Like the Redditor I've quoted above, I'm of the mindset that too many people vote Republican or Democrat over their personal convictions because they're afraid that everyone else is going to do the same. If everyone who was considering voting for a third party did so, there would be a massive disruption. Would the GOP or Dems probably still win? Perhaps, but it wouldn't be a clean, near 50-50 division. Instead, I wouldn't expect either party to get above 40%, let alone reach 40%. Can you imagine the effect on the political climate if neither Republicans nor Democrats obtained higher than 35%?

Back to my story.

In the last month or so, I became personally convicted over my view towards presidential candidates. My old view was very pragmatic - I didn't care if they were pro-choice, pro-gay, pro-anything-opposing-Christianity. None of that I deemed necessary to run a country, so I simply voted on policy and capability. I looked down sometimes on Christians who would rather vote for a pro-lifer whom I thought was a poorer choice for the country as opposed to a better-qualified pro-choicer. Gary Johnson, in my opinion, was one such choice. I disagreed with his platform on many areas, but I was willing to vote for him as the best of three options.

Then my perspective was changed.

I don't remember what prompted the change, but I had a priority shift. Part of my realisation, you see, was that it was of greater importance to honour God than to pick my choice of what's best for the country. After all, Ahab was an excellent king by the world's standards. He conquered territory, forged treaties, and maintained Israel as a prosperous nation, but because he would not honour God, he is considered a terrible king. Conversely, David was nobody's pick to be king. He was the youngest son of a small shepherding family, but he sought to honour god to the best of his abilities and God gave him what he needed to rule effectively.

That realisation coincided with a post from The Gospel Coalition. The fact that there is a Christian Democratic party in the US that seeks to honour God through the planks in their platform blew my mind. I thought most Christians, like myself, just tried to make do with unpalatable options, but we don't need to. Someone else, fed up with the lack of God-honouring options, decided to make their own party in the mid-late 2000's. Now, do I agree with all aspects of the ASP's platform? I wouldn't say so - I tend to lean a little more fiscally conservative than they do - but I do agree with their overarching goal, vision, and motivation enough that I am willing to throw my lot with a young, small party. I can vote for a candidate whom I trust will seek to honour God and have faith that God will give what is needed to run this country.

This is my Option C. What's yours?

Forest and Trees

Today, I want to speak to my fellow white people, particularly my fellow Christian white people.

Many of us are missing the point

Yesterday, an innocent man, Terence Crutcher, was shot. He was an innocent man inspecting his own car. He was tazed and shot because he did not immediately follow instructions. He was unarmed. He had his hands up and visible. Now, investigations are ongoing and this article has a fairly good summary of the due process that needs to be followed and the confounding legal questions, but the shooting is not what I want to highlight.

I want to highlight our response.

You see, Mr Crutcher is a black man and, unfortunately, he is now the newest name in a growing list of black men killed by police. He is now the next name on a list in the argument against police brutality and social injustice. You would think that, after such a tragedy, there would be mourning as a community in response. No, no. I only heard about the shooting via my wife. I saw nothing from any of my white friends except a post which showed how there are good relationships between black men and police.

Yesterday, in Langa, a peri-urban settlement (lit. a shack town) in Cape Town, South Africa, inhabited almost completely by poor black individuals, was in the midst of a protest against poor services delivery. The only word I heard from any of my SA friends was from one person who had to drive through the protest, recounting the shock of riot police, guns, and the smoke of burning tires, praising God and thanking the police that she made it through safely. My fellow white people, I am ashamed. You are focusing on the minutiae, the trees, when the problem is with the forest.

The protest of police vs black violence is not about shaming the police. It doesn't require you to defend the police or discredit the victim and find opposing evidence - there will always be evidence to oppose anything, provided the inclination is there. The issue is about respect and fair treatment under the law, something assumed by many of us white people, but still being fought for by many of our fellow black men and women.

Service delivery protests/riots, while terrifying, are happening because of a real problem. While we recount the horrors and fears experienced as an outsider passing through, let us remember that what many white people have and take for granted, our black brothers and sisters are fighting to obtain - and not because they cannot afford it, but because it has yet to be delivered.

Just because we, as white people, are not immediately impacted is not a sufficient excuse to dismiss the injustice surrounding us in society. When Christ gave the parable of the good Samaritan, he did not say that our neighbour extended only to those who looked/spoke/thought like us. No, the whole point of the parable is that loving our neighbour means seeing the hurt, the maligned, the needy, and doing what we can to help.

And that help? I'm not advocating at all for the White Messiah complex. For help to be actual help, it must be the right type of assistance/aid/support, given in the right manner, at the right time. To make a comparison, if someone drops on the floor, having a heart attack, you don't begin scolding the individual for any habit he/she might have that contributed to his heart attack; you administer CPR or find someone who can. When social injustice is shown, you don't tell the victims they're imagining things or that they've contributed to their own issues; you stop and listen, giving a willing ear and a heart willing to understand, and, should the opportunity present, take some measure of appropriate action.

Are we not called to weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn? What would it hurt to take a moment to empathise - to place ourselves, our families in these repeated cycles of injustice? Would it hurt to turn to a black friend, relative, or colleague and simply say, "I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."? Take the initiative. Put yourself out there in love, seeking to understand or support. Make that connection. If nothing else, it's a start.

Chicken and Egg

So, my wife and I were getting food and, while we were eating/heading home, I had a revelatory moment. It hit me that many of us have the perception of the relationship between Diet and Exercise backwards.

Instead of dieting comparative to our daily level of exercise, we often seek to exercise comparative to our dietary intake.

The more I think about it, the more backwards it sounds. That's like saying "I put two extra gallons of gas in the car this week, so I need to drive it more."

As long as we use exercise as a means to try and undo our bad dietary habits, we're never going to make any serious effect on our health. As long as we keep the attitude of "I'll just do an extra couple of laps to make up for [those] doughnut[s]," we will always be stuck in a losing battle. As a society, we are far too sedentary to eat the way we do.

____________________________________Side Note_____________________________________
Now, I need to pause here. I must admit that I am exhibiting a clear example of "Do what I say; not what I do," because, remember the food I was eating in the car - it was Taco Bell (not to mention the regrettable number of doughnuts eaten at a conference this morning). So, keep in mind that I need to work on this myself.
_________________________________________________________________________________

So, instead of viewing exercise as a tool to undo bad eating habits, how should we be eating?

Well, we should be eating like professional athletes

That may sound odd, especially for those like myself who are mostly too busy to fit a regular workout in, but it's true. When we think about how athletes eat, it becomes very clear that athletes eat to fuel their bodies. They make sure to eat enough proteins, carbs, and fats to meet the demands of their sport. After all, they are using up a lot of energy that has to come from somewhere. Similarly, for those who rarely see the inside of a gym or who don't set apart time for physical activity, we need to eat enough proteins, carbs, and fats to meet our metabolic demands. The difference is, our demands are far less.

And, let's face it: eating less is far easier than exercising more.

So, let me ask the burning questions:

• Do I really need that 12oz ribeye or would a 6oz cut be better?
• Do I really need that one/two/four (cough cough guilty cough) doughnuts?
• Do I really need to pack my plate that full this Thanksgiving?
• Do I really need that mid-afternoon snack?

If you're anything like me (rugby 2-4 hrs/week; gym 0-4 hrs/week), the answer might just be, "No," and, you know what, it's okay.

So, come join me as I re-evaluate my own dietary intake and tune it to match my output

From Behind the Veil

I swear I'm not dead.

Med school is something else, though, let me tell you. It's super gratifying and definitely my calling, but it's driven me to the point of actually wanting coffee. You know, that liquid burnt toast stuff I can no longer say I loathe and abhor. Yeah. That stuff.

(Courtesy of ScienceCompany.com)

Anyways, yeah. It's the last module. I have 3 weeks, 5 tests, 1 anatomy practical, 1 OMM practical, 1 standardised patient, and 1 shadowing rotation to complete. 

(I also may have become mildly hooked on a medical TV show, something I'm sure happens to every med student at some time or another)

That being said, I am so glad I'm not facing it all alone. Being married while in med school is an amazing blessing. Yes, marriage, like any relationship, takes time and time is a valuable resource typically (over)invested in studying, but marriage also pushes you to plan your time well, to add margin into your schedule, and to prioritise "Us" time. It pushes you to seek balance in your life, pursuit of God, wisdom, and leadership, seeking time to rest and recharge, and encouraging you to invest in your spouse. I know for sure, that if I were facing this alone I would be a stressed out wreck, hyperfocused on grades, and not taking good care of myself. Sure, my grades would temporarily be higher, but I'd be a wreck, burnt out, and prone to fall apart at barely a whisper.

So, major thanks to God for my wife and how she encourages me to seek balance, spurring me on to be a good student, but also a good husband and Christian. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have 155 flashcards to crunch for Monday's Neuro test.

Dirty Bomb

We all know the expression, "Actions have consequences." Heck, chances are our mothers used to scold us with that phrase while doling out punishment for what we'd just done.

What if I told you your actions' consequences don't just affect you?

I mean, we all know the obvious ones, like the effect of giving a gift to your spouse, or hanging a kid from a fence by his underwear. No, I'm talking the small things.

That lie you told, the half-truth, the skeletons in your closet. We keep these hidden for a reason - we don't want to offend anyone or make them think differently of us.

I was challenged by a friend, today, when he said that sin has collateral damage. And I thought about that for a bit. It's true. If I were to come and confess a heavy sin that's been weighing on me to my wife, it'd be off my chest, allowing me to be free and to seek restoration and forgiveness, but it'd be weighing her down now. Now she's trying to manage the weight of that sin, dealing with the consequences.

Now, I'm not advocating hiding or sins - rust allows everything to fester and rot from the inside, but I am advocating something I'm beginning to learn: sensitivity.

At this, of course, anyone who knows me well will start laughing. After all, I have the sensitivity of a rock. That being said, though, I'm learning how important it is and how it can help mitigate the secondary, collateral damage of sin.

It's something I'm learning is important. It takes awareness and wisdom, two things I lack, but it's possible.

So, here's to wisdom and understanding. May God grant me both, that I may be a soothing balm to those I wound.

Prayer Request

Hey, this is just a prayer request. So, not a major blog post.

A couple years ago, I felt the father calling me to serve in certain nations less open to what I believe. In the last year, however, I've allowed myself to become okay with the idea of serving here in the US, in undeserved parts of the country.

Today, those same three countries came to the forefront of my mind in the context of service.

My request is twofold:

1. That the father's will would be revealed to me, whether at home or abroad.
2. That the father's will would be confirmed to my wife separately.

James' Adventures in Medicalland

"I'm late. I'm late. No time. Must study. I'm late!"

The rabbit shoved the pocket watch into its lab coat as it sped off down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.

I took off after the rabbit, trying to case it down as my limbs grew leaden with fatigue. Exhausted, I sat on a bench to catch breather. All around me, the various benches and chairs began to twist themselves into various shapes - rings, prongs, and sticks - and began running around in circles, first slowly, but gaining in speed. With a whump, I fell on my behind as my bench contorted itself to join them.

"Everybody take your place
Before we start Kreb's cycle's race
With your rings and Cs and Ns
Soon the cycle begins..."

I found myself dragged up and carried into the circle, running about and around, over and over again until my limbs were filled with energy again. 

Energy? From running in circles? This place was getting more and more peculiar by the minute. I shook my head in disbelief, before continuing down the hallway. I didn't get far before the air began to fill with the smell of hand sanitizer. 

I looked up.

In front of me was a large, white caterpillar, wringing its hands in a washing motion.

"And what brings you in today?" it began, with an imperious tone. "What is your name? When did all this start? What are you allergic to?"

"That's not the proper order," I interjected.

"Oh? Well, please, recite it for me."

"Well, first, you have the onset, then provocation and palliation..."

With a great Harrumph the caterpillar interrupted me and proceeded is a rhythmic baritone:

"Symptoms, Onset, Characteristics
Radiation, can't you see
Associations, course of Time
Exaggeration, Severity"

It made sense, but yet, everything was just all wrong. Where am I, in this topsy-turvy place? 

Just then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of fur and white coat. The Rabbit! I sped off after him, trying to catch him and ask him what was the rush before, once again, I found myself all turned about in the hallways. Left took me right and going forward took me behind. I sat down in a pile of frustration.

Off in the distance, I heard various noises and clatterings. I drew closer. In another room were a man in a white coat and top hat with a card saying 121/76 mmHg sticking out from the brim of the hat. In his hands was cradled the head of  rabbit. No, not a rabbit, but a hare. With a swift movement, the hatter twisted his hands, eliciting an audible crack from the hare's neck as he melted to the floor before hopping back up. Curious, I came closer. They were hopping from bed to bed, testing and articulating joints. Without realising it, they swept me up and dropped me on a table, walked up my spine, and, with an audible pop, I felt half my tensions melt away.

Astonished, I turned to the man in the hat, who looked at me and asked, "Why is a rotation like a sidebending?"

I sat there, puzzled, before giving up: "I have no idea. Why is a rotation like a sidebending?"

The hatter looked at me quizzically before answering: "I haven't the foggiest."

As the hatter and hare ran off, hopping from bed to bed, rotating and cracking joints. I stood for a second, pondering my sanity and whatever this place was or seemed to be. Simultaneously, the lights began to dim and the ground underneath my feet began to change, as I found myself standing on a white little pathway, surrounded by pink, fleshy walls. At the edge of the pathway was a signpost.

"Cephalad, caudad," I read. Before my eyes, the words began to change: "Medial, lateral," "Proximal, distal." The words continued to cycle about. Confused, I sat down on the pathway and crossed my arms.

A ways off, I heard a hum-singing noise drawing closer as a long lab coat began to materialise, out from the bottom of which poke a striped tail. A cat's head appeared above the coat. He flicked out a claw like a scalpel and began to move first one way, then another, along the path, the pink walls parting before him as he passed, rummaging along the pink wall,before finding a blue and red pathway over to the side. "Oh, vertebral artery. Excellent."

I sat, staring in disbelief, holding my head in my hands, thinking aloud.

"Have I gone mad?"

The cat's ears perked up as it turned to me and smiled: "I'm afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are."

With a laugh and a smile, it began to fade from view, hum-bumbling as it went.

Without much ado, I stood up and began to walk in some direction, following the path as best as I could, as it faded into the darkness.

~     ~     ~

Bleary-eyed I looked around. In front of me was my notebook and computer - still paused on the last slide I had been studying. My pen was fallen from my hand and the cup of tea grown cold on the floor. I looked at my watch, rolled my eyes and groaned.

"I'm late. I'm late. No time. Must study. I'm late!"

Moving Blues

So, my wife and I are moving this weekend. Nowhere drastic, just to another place in town that's a bit more to our liking. The preparation process, however, has been a comedy of errors. In light of that, I thought I'd share some of the wisdom of hindsight.

1. Always assume the power is off. Don't wait until two nights before to find this out - especially when you're moving at the end of summer.
2. Always give time for the power company to turn the electricity on. Calling the day before might work if you're moving on a weekday, but be prepared to wait if you call on a Friday, especially before a long weekend.
3. Always give yourself time to pack and move. This time, we're excused; it was simply the best time to move - it's not an exam weekend and we have Monday off to unpack/arrange everything. She does, however have two jobs and I have med school. Try and imagine how much we still have to pack
4. Enlist help. Well, I can't complain here. We've got some excellent friends who've volunteered to help us tomorrow - S/O to all of you.
5. Be prepared for lack of sleep, crankiness, and general lack of energy. I mean, I'm totally the nice guy who can run on a little bit of sleep five nights in a row. (You should see how many spelling mistakes I made on the first draft)

Not much more I can think of. Still, I'm excited for more floorspace, more storage, and hardwood floors. Who cares if the power isn't on, the food will have to stay at our old place, and we may have to shower there, too...

...I'm thankful we still have a good bit of time left on the old lease

When Crap Happens

Many people often wonder why bad things happen to good people. As a Christian, that's a bit of a funny question, as really, none of us are good, but I digress.

Crap happens. I know. Right now, my car engine has konked out. I'm walking to work. (no complaints there - I've actually found I enjoy it and have turned down ride offers) Most frustrating, though, is the running of it all. At least I'm not in med school yet, but this really is chipping into wedding savings.

So, then, as a Christian, how should I react when crap happens?

The bible often talks about overcoming obstacles and drawing closer to God. Two such passages that come to mind are in Hebrews and James.

Now, yes, those passages are talking more about faith challenges, but I cannot help but tie them in to everyday struggles, too. After all, every struggle is an opportunity for us to lean on God and for God to display himself.

So, I don't know what will come of walking to work, but I look forward to the outcome and I pray for its resolution.

Welcome Back - Now that You're Here

This is part 2 of my series welcoming TCKs back into the country (see part 1). Again, any TCKs having experienced reintegration, feel free to chip in.

So, a couple days ago, I wrote about what to expect when you, as a TCK, are returning to the USA. Today, I want to finish this series off with some things to do that will help smooth the reintegration process.

Now that You're Here:

Do: Find other TCKs in your area. (My university had a connect group for MKs, which was awesome). Yes, many Americans will not understand you completely, but many TCKs will.

Do: Make American friends.

Don't: Avoid all Americans because of some first appearance, accidental slight, or preconceived notion.

Do: Find local internationals. My freshman year, I would hang out at the indoor soccer fields just to hang out with other Africans and to hear African accents.

Do: Introduce your new American friends to the food and culture of your home/s

Don't: Look down on American culture (or the "lack thereof"). Instead, take time to discover things about your new home that you can celebrate and engage with.

Don't: Force the entire city to listen to music from home. While you might love it, others might not.

Do: Make mistakes (and learn from them). For example, one tailgate, a bunch of the guys from my hall were laughing at another for something he had done, so I chipped in and called him a "vark" (pig, in Afrikaans), but, not understanding me, the guys thought I said "f***" and almost flipped out.

Do: Take time to keep in touch with friends back home. This, I didn't do and I wish I had done more of.

Do: Set aside time to Skype home. You may not think you'll need it, but I can guarantee your parents will.

Don't: Play the foreigner card. It's cute and fun for the first couple weeks, but continually shoving it in people's faces will just turn them [potential friends] away.

Do: Find ways to practice any languages you learned while overseas

Do: Find ways to remember home. (For me, I keep plenty of rooibos tea on hand and I listen to township jazz or afrikaanse treffers when I miss home)

Do: Take time to freak out when you see something from home in a store. (I've done it. No shame)

Do: Find a local church

Do: Find a nice lady/gentleman and fall in love (American or international - it doesn't matter)

Do: Learn American timeliness

Do: Forget about American timeliness (It's soul-sucking, so I don't mind slipping on occasion)

Don't: Be chronically late

Don't: Claim permanent jet lag

Do: Settle down (It doesn't matter where, but take time to make a Home. It's important and, for possibly the first time in your life you'll feel like you're finally at home, which is an amazing, yet foreign concept*)

Lastly,

Do: Have fun. This is a big time in your life in which you can totally be yourself and find yourself.

*I remember when I told my now fiancee that, with her, I felt at home. It was one of the truest expressions of love I have ever experienced or uttered.

Welcome Back - What to Expect

(This is the first in a 2-part series for TCKs returning to the USA. Some of this is gleaned from first-hand experience. Other adult TCKs who have reintegrated, feel free to add in the comments section. I will incorporate it into the post with credit given.)

So, you're returning to the grand old US of A? I feel you. I was there four years ago. Heck, I'm still there, but I can promise that it gets easier and I want to give you some of my experiences to help prepare you a little bit.

Things to Expect:

Positive military presence (I know this may sound strange to TCKs from Central Africa, South America, or Southeast Asia, but it's true. America's military is mostly celebrated and thanked. It's amazing)

The Stars and Bars. If you're anywhere in the South, you'll see this baby flying proudly on belt buckles, tattoos, decals, houses, and even off the backs of trucks. Seriously. I used to be offended and think it mighty strange that people were even permitted to fly the flag of a failed rebellion, but it's allowed and, in many places, celebrated. (Complete with calls of "The South will rise again!")

Rules are different. Things you may be used to doing can and will get you into trouble:

• No jaywalking (To the rest of the world, zebra crossings are merely suggestions, but to the USA, crossing wherever you please will get you in trouble)
• No piling a car past max capacity
• No passengers on the back of a truck (or in the trunk of a car, for that matter)
• No bribing the police officers. Seriously, don't.
• Motorcyclists, don't weave in and out of traffic. Motorists, don't make a new lane.
• No bare feet in public buildings. (Between you and me, I still don't get this. I mean, the only person you're putting at risk is yourself. Also, Americans seem to have this thing about feet.)
• Drinking age is 21, not 18. (Not that I advocate drinking, just warning you ahead of time)
• Speed limits are enforced, not suggestions.
• Right turn on red (a heavenly blessing that exists solely because other drivers actually follow the rules)

America is also fairly germophobic. I work as a waiter, so I know the health codes; some of them are ridiculous. As a biology graduate, I know some of them are redundant, pointless, or even ineffective. I also happen to know what can actually kill you (and as an African, I've probably been exposed to them anyways). Not to mention the majority of the public is woefully un-/misinformed when it comes to various diseases and their transmission/prevention (I've seen people wearing masks to avoid ebola). That being said, don't go out of your way to bolster their immune systems. It's just not cool.

America. Is. On. Time.

Seriously. Almost soul-suckingly so.

So, for all of you who, like me, come from time-liberal societies, I recommend setting your clocks 5-10 minutes ahead. I'm almost always 5 minutes late: either I've underestimated the traveling time or I've underestimated how long it will take to finish what I'm working on/the conversation I'm having.

(And yes, being late because you were having a good conversation with a new/old/long-lost friend is not a valid excuse for your lack of timeliness).

Wal-Mart

Yes, it's big. No, it's not that big. It's bigger.

Seriously, though. Almost every TCK has what I call the "Cereal Aisle Moment" when they just stop and gawk as the gross extravagance, amount, and variety of food on the shelves. (and yes, it's almost always the cereal aisle that does it. So many types of cereal...)

Many Americans are wasteful. I still remember the first time I saw someone simply throwing leftovers away. I was visiting someone's house for dinner and they were clearing the table. I just stood there, flabbergasted that people would just waste what could be another day's meal. As a waiter, I've become slightly desensitised, but it still catches me off guard.

It's often more than just a few crumbs, too

Americans can't spell. Seriously, how hard is it to spell colour, flavour, theatre, centre, or favourite?

People are different. I mean, it goes without saying, but it's true. whether they're white, Asian, Black, Indian, etc., they're different. If you're used to Danes, be prepared to be surprised by white Americans, especially if they have Danish last names - they're not Danish; they're American. 

Following that, cultures are different. 

Food is different. While the gastronomic preference of America is indeed shifting, it is nothing like that of West Africa, Central America, South Asia, etc. If you want authentic food, move to a big city and look for pockets of immigrants - they'll tell you where to go.

Americans don't all sound like Larry the Cable Guy.

Lastly (for now), guns. Many Americans own guns and will vehemently fight for their right to do so. Stand your ground laws still exist as do castle doctrine laws. So, if you're from militantly unpeaceful areas of the world or are from areas which frown on gun ownership, don't be afraid or alarmed. Actually, you can rest slightly easier as, depending on who you ask, stand your ground laws contribute to a lower incidence of murder and armed assault.

So, yes, Americaland is a strange place, but it can also be very fun and exciting. It just takes some preparation and a bit of good humour.

For suggestions and tips on navigating your reintegration, read part 2

Talk Before You Think

So, I'm an external processor. That's fancy lingo for "I think through speaking," In reality, that works through a 3-step system

1. Make a statement
2. Realise that doesn't sound right/Receive feedback
3. Repeat until the full thought or idea is properly fleshed out and conceived

This has resulted in a large wake of offended and hurt individuals and, sometimes, rightfully so. Jokes end up either scathing or falling flat. People remark at the heartlessness of some of my ideas or just stand in confusion as the vagueness doesn't make sense. 

The challenge comes when people take my first statement as the sum of my speech. Society says one should think before one speaks and, so for one who thinks as as he speaks, this creates many an awkward situation. Why? Well, many individuals don't allow me to move past step one. all you have to do to discover this is go to my Facebook page and scroll a while or search a couple of my blogs on more contested subjects to see that. 

Majority of the hurts I have caused could simply be avoided by asking a small question, or letting me know that didn't come out right. That doesn't mean a small amount of hurt won't still be there, but the greater gulf that could have been averted will be.

So, this is a PSA for all members of society, bear with us "Outies" as we make gaffes or blabber on. It's just how we think. Instead, give us constructive feedback and I promise you, you'll find we can be rather amenable.

Post Script:

For those of you who've followed me for a while, you know I'm an introvert. Yes, you can be an introverted external processor. We just tend to be very self-conscious and are very jealous of the few "sounding board" friendships we make. To Dad, Jesse, Hopchak, and G, thank you for being those crucial sounding boards.

For Our Sons

I'm only a young man. I haven't seen much in my meagre 23 years. I haven't experienced or done much, either, but this is something that I'm beginning to understand the gravity and magnitude of that I think needs to be better understood by men at large.

Previously, I've clumsily typed my way around the red-herring modesty debate (I'm not going to link it, but it's somewhere here on this site), thinking that was a good approach to take, to chip in my two cents that men need to be proactive and work to prevent what many merely tell women to react to, that is, lust. Equally clumsily, I've spoken with friends who are feminists, trying to ascertain their positions (didn't quite get it, but hey, I was trying, right? [wrong attitude]).

I finally got around to looking at the #YesAllWomen making its rounds. It took me a while, because I'd dismissed it as "just another feminist outrage," but what caught my eye was that men I know whom I have never seen post anything feminist were sharing it, posting it. So, I gave it a look. To me, it was nothing flooring, but it piqued my interest. I did a bit of searching for articles about the movement, read a few of the latest twitter feed posts and realized something crucial - I don't understand.

I don't understand why my sister had to wait until she was older and still take a dog with her to go running, whereas I could've gone on my own whenever.
I don't understand the pressures of the media on women to look beautiful; after all, men's health puts the same standard on us men, right?
I don't understand why women don't feel comfortable walking to the shop after dark for a few quick necessities.
I don't understand why women have to say they have a boyfriend/fiance/spouse for their "no" to be heard.
Just to name a few.

Let me flip this scenario on its head:
Men, you are now the physically weaker sex. Society has relegated your role (traditionally) to cooking, cleaning, and minding the home. Some concessions have been made, however, and you can find work, though you might not be paid equally and you might be discriminated against. In fact, you might be hit on, harassed, or sexually assaulted by someone of the opposite sex who, being stronger than you physically and in the unwritten perception of society, is able to take their way with you, leave you, and still, no-one will fully believe you, stating that you were "asking for it" because of how you were dressed, had led the person on, hadn't said "no," etc.. You face pressure from part of society to change the way you act and dress because you're "making them lust." Conversely, you face pressure from the media and the market to fit an ideal of beauty because, let's face it, regardless of how smart or strong you are, everybody's only truly going to regard you based on how pretty you are; the applicable attributes only begin applying secondarily.

Swap shoes for a moment. Can you truly say "I don't understand" any longer? How about if I told you that the originator of #YesAllWomen is being bullied and pressured by the internet community, or that #YesAllWomenJokes has been made and is making its rounds. Can you not see the discrimination riding on the unwritten undercurrents of Western society?

I send my appreciation to the authors of #AllMenCan and #EachEveryWoman as they seek to keep this discussion on the table.

I'm only a young man. I haven't seen much in my meagre 23 years. I haven't experienced or done much either, but as I grow and (hopefully) become a father, I will teach my sons this message. Will you teach yours?

Twisted Mirrors: Introduction

Twisted Mirrors is going to become an ongoing series, ultimately to cover the 7 classical Deadly Sins. This idea was spurred by my own investigation of my struggles with Lust and my discoveries thereupon (personal and research).

So, I hope you enjoy and learn from what I'm learning.

I won't necessarily be posting these in regular sequence, but they will all eventually be posted with the "Twisted Mirrors" tag.

Running

I don't like running.

I can appreciate running - it's good exercise and all, but I still don't like running.
I enjoy using running tracker apps so I can tell if I'm improving and how far/long I've actually run, but I still don't like running.
I enjoy hitting new distance or time milestones, but I still don't like running.
I enjoy the feeling of fitness that comes with a good run, but I still don't like running.

Too cold to run? Oh well.
Not enough time to run? That's too bad.
Don't know the neighbourhood? Yeah, it's probably not too safe.

Haven't run since last semester? No big.
Going to run again? Go for it.

Pardon me, have you seen my lungs? I think they fell behind back at the half-mile mark.

I don't like running.

The Golden Calf

Earlier today I had a bit of free time, so I pulled out my guitar and decided to go through my file of old worship music. I didn't really plan for it to be a worship session, but, in an impromptu way, it became one.

This evening, as I was spending time talking with God, I thanked Him for that opportunity, commenting that it had been a while since I'd done that and that it was a blessing in surprise. As I was praying, I was praying over a missions trip application I'd sent in (somewhat rashly, perhaps), asking for clarity on whether or not that's what God wanted me to be doing and what my initial, base motivation for applying was. From there we sidetracked onto my desire and plans for the future.

For those of you who might not be aware, (basically anyone whom I haven't met in person and spoken with for any length of time) I wish to serve as a missionary doctor in Kyrgyzstan. It started in grade 9 as simply a call to serve as a missionary there, but, as I pursued studies in biology and became enamoured with medicine, that call was gradually refined to medical missions. I fought that call for a year as a college freshman, denying the call to serve as a missionary and being set on working in the US as your everyday paediatrician, but God roped me back in line.

Returning to tonight's discussion with God, a short while after praying over the missions trip application, giving it over to Him to work according to His will and desires, and thanking Him for the blessing of that smaller worship time God asked me a small question:

"What if I sent you to Kyrgyzstan as James?" 

That question stopped me dead in my tracks. My priorities had become skewed. Over the last year or so, everything has become med school this, GPA that, MCAT the other thing, etc. I had become so focused on the doctor/medical missionary title aspect that I had, to quote the Newsboys, "lost the plot." I had, in a way, made an idol out of my calling. I had taken my calling, morphed it into an object of my desire. and made it about me. When people asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I paraded this calling that I wanted to do. It was my wish and desire and I began to leave God out of it except to pray and ask that He make it happen.

I sat for a minute, pondering this question, coming to this realization and how I had fallen, how I had lost sight of the goal. I shifted, slowly, imperceptibly, from desiring to serve God with my passions and skills to wanting to fulfill my goal and plan to honour God.

You might say, "But that's not a bad thing, you're wanting to honour God."

Look at the way it's worded. What is my motivation? What is secondary? Is it God or me?

All you who have eyes to see these words, read! Examine your life, your calling, your goals. See my failure and learn from it. Pray over it. Pray that you would remain in or return to your first love and examine yourself. Don't doubt or doublethink, just examine. Don't start jumping at shadows of selfish desire. Don't begin glossing over your errors and looking the other way. Be reasonable. Seek the wisdom and discernment of God.

"Seek First the Kingdom of God and its righteousness, and all these things will be added to you." - Matthew 6:33

TCK Confession: Supermarket Freak-Out

So, for those new readers (or those TCM veterans who're a bit slow on the uptake), I was born in the USA, grew up in South Africa, and have now moved back to the USA for university.

I've been back in the states for 3 years now and I'd figured I was pretty much through with all my "I miss x from SA" phase (well, except for biltong, boerewors, pepper steak pies, and good tea. I'll never stop missing those).

Guess again.

So, I was taking a quick stop at Kroger to pick up some breakfast food and pens (waiters lose pens like my dad loses his keys) and we decided to pass through (unbeknownst to me) the international section. I saw a packet of digestives, which, as any Brit will tell you, are pretty freakin' awesome. So, I stopped and skimmed the shelves. I saw some pretty cool stuff: Cadbury drinking chocolate, proper tea biscuits, etc. Then I heard my girlfriend (who's American) say, with a great deal of puzzlement, two magic words: "Wine gums?"

The world. Just. Exploded. With. Rainbows.

I whipped my head up and gazed with wonder at the most magical sight. Wine gums! In America! I could have died happy right there and I may or may not have freaked out a little bit.

Of course, like any sane TCK, I started tearing through the shelves, looking for any food i might recognize from home. Chutney. Chicken tikka masala. No Weet-bix or marie biscuits, though... :'(

After a few minutes, I composed myself, and put the wine gums back on the shelf.

Twas magical.