Learning Curve

When I was studying in UC Berkeley, we had a lecturer named Clancy in our introductory computer programming class. He was the sort of guy you'd assume, had you run into him on the street, was probably one those homeless persons who roamed the campus and slept in People's Park. He was lanky, pale, with long scraggly beard and disheveled hair. And he always wore sandals to class. When he began to lecture, he'd leave his sandals off to one side and walk around barefooted for the entire class. Needless to say, I'd never seen him in a suit or a tie. Nevertheless, he was brilliant. And the kids were awed by him. When he talked, you'd want to listen. 

We are not in Berkeley any more. This morning I got out of my usual tank top and shorts and forced myself into a blouse and a pair of slacks. Took off my glasses and popped in the contacts. I even put on some makeup and blew dry my hair. Make no mistakes about it: Asian people respond to you much better if you looked respectable. I even opted for something other than sandals or sneakers, though it's another hot and steamy day in the subtropics. I was going to teach my first Ladies' Bible Study class at Kowloon International Baptist Church (KIBC). 

KIBC is a very unique church in Hong Kong in that although its primary language is English, the majority of its congregants do not speak English as their first language. They are Chinese (from Hong Kong and Mainland), Filipinos, Indonesians, and other nationals from twenty-some-odd countries all over the world. While other "international" churches tend to attract expatriates from Britain, Australia, Canada, America, who enjoy the "expat" atmosphere and social potential, KIBC tends to attract people who are interested in learning English and desire the ready language immersion opportunities.

So it is that the ministry of preaching the gospel through language dissemination was born years ago. It is perhaps a unique ministry that cannot be replicated everywhere in the world. Nowhere on earth will you find a more eager population who would go to great lengths to improve their English language skills. For decades, women from all walks of life come to the Thursday morning Ladies' Bible Study, many with dictionaries in hand. Some are old, retired ladies; some are young mothers with children enrolled in the English-speaking pre-school located at the church. Some are housewives; some are professionals who happen to be free on Thursday mornings. Yet, it is not only the English language they've come for; they are genuinely curious about the Bible, a book taken for granted in the West.

I was handed the precious baton of teaching these ladies for a season. I approached the task with fear and trembling, knowing that it's not the set of skills that I already have, but ones yet to be given to me (or developed in me, as the case might be) I will need to accomplish the job. Yet, I love that God always gives us more when we are willing to step out on a limb, and I trust that He will do great things in spite of my limitations.

In preparation for teaching the Psalms, I had read too many books. All summer, I pored over books from Sam's theological library: Westermann, Brueggemann, Sarna, Tremper Longman, Eugene Peterson, etc. I read and read until I realized there would be no end to the sea of knowledge one could soak up. Although I would have enjoyed learning further and basking in the great ideas of theologians, what would be the use of great learning if it wasn't put to use in some way? It was time to backtrack. Time to pull my head out of books to start building lessons. Time to translate lofty, profound ideas into short, simple sentences. Time to edit out all the beautiful thoughts that don't belong (sniff!). In the end, I managed to put together a forty-five-minute lesson with PowerPoint slides and handouts.

As I stood before the forty-some women and delivered the materials I had prepared, I finally got a sense of how challenging a task teaching can be. I had envisioned an audience of young believers or interested seekers with a basic knowledge of English. When I taught, there were old ladies sitting up front copying words down, one slow and careful letter at a time. While a few believers were quite comfortable with the content of the class, there were others who no doubt found the pace too fast, or the concepts too deep, and the vocabulary clearly over their heads. I had been warned about this. But it was hard to envision and understand it until you stood in front of them and watched their faces, and the pace at which they frantically looked up a word in a beat-up dictionary.

On the way home, it occurred to me how little I have interacted with people of very different backgrounds from me. It has been so easy to choose my friends among the expats. We understand each other: even beyond the shared language, there are the shared causes and shared cultural lenses, common habits, foods, and social protocols. Out of sheer laziness or busyness, I have not tried to bridge that cultural and language gap with others. Thus, trying to teach a class like this is a real stretch--stretching across the language and cultural divide for simplicity, for shared concepts, for understanding.

It would be a steep learning curve, one that could not be gained in the comfort and isolation of my home, with my pile of theology books, my love of words and intellectual pursuits. It's practical, on-the-job training, as usual. Now that I have stood in front of these ladies, I can begin to picture them as my audience as I prepare for the next lesson. A challenge, yes. And a gift as well. God be glorified through us all!