¡Ay, qué pena!

“¡Ay, qué pena!” “Oh,’me da pena’ that I don’t speak Spanish fluently and am embarrassed to ‘dar palabras’ (say some words) at the church service.” “Oh, qué pena’ that life’s circumstances have changed, requiring me to alter the plans we had for today!” “‘Qué pena’ that I tracked mud all over your apartment!”

¡Ay, qué pena! was one of the first phrases I learned after landing in Bogotá, Colombia for my three week orientation with Eric and Kelly. The reason soon became apparent: “¡Ay, qué pena!” is used countless times a day for a plethora of reasons. In fact, its use is so versatile that I wish there was an equivalent in English! But, unfortunately, there really isn’t one perfect, direct translation in English. Some English expressions that come close enough to the overall meaning of “¡Ay, qué pena!” would be: “Oh, what a shame!” or “Oh, I am embarrassed!” or “Oh, how unfortunate!” depending on the situation. After the first week, I found myself using the phrase quite frequently - once you catch the sense of the phrase and its vast applicability, you can’t help but use it.

I probably said some variety of ‘me da pena’ (literally, it gives me ‘embarrassment’) or ‘que pena’ (what a shame) about 100 times during my three week stint in Bogotá; part of the reason was the ease with which the phrase rolls off the tongue, but maybe more so because, in all reality, I was embarrassed. These feelings of embarrassment were coupled with feelings of vulnerability and the realization of all I didn’t know coupled with how much attention seemed to be on me as the new ‘gringa’ (white person, feminine) in town.

As I have continued to reflect and attempt to put words to much of what I was thinking and feeling both during my orientation trip and now afterwards, the word “vulnerability” has stuck with me. There is a sense of vulnerability in not being able to fully speak a language: you become quite dependent on those around you to either provide the Spanish word or be able to interpret your frantic motions. There is a sense of vulnerability in being asked to share a word or blessing in front of a congregation: you are the visitor and you do not know the “way things are normally said and done” nor do you always know what to say. There is a sense of vulnerability when you get out of a taxi and shut the door, unbeknownst to you that your definition of “shutting” is actually considered “slamming” and thus makes taxi drivers quite grumpy. There is a sense of vulnerability in accepting hospitality from others who welcome you into their homes and serve you coffee: aren’t you the one who is supposed to be hosting and serving others? Thus, there is a sense of vulnerability in mission: a reality and feeling that I am learning to become familiar with, even though it is somewhat uncomfortable.

I believe there to be a biblical basis for the concept of vulnerability in mission. My mind is immediately taken to the Old Testament and the stories of the people of Israel; more specifically their time spent wandering around for 40 years in the desert. After leaving Egypt and Pharaoh's security in the building of "mortar and brick" (cf. Exodus 1:14), their encounter and experience of God was found in the vulnerability of the wilderness. Yes, their time was also filled with plenty of mumbling, grumbling, and griping at God to the point where they began to idolize and dream of Egypt - the place they had been enslaved (Numbers 14:4)! But it was also here - in the midst of countless unknowns and insecurities - that they experienced God in new ways and came to a deeper understanding of God's character through provisions like mana (Numbers 11:4-15) and water from a rock (Exodus 17).

It is precisely the feelings of healthy discomfort where I hope to be open to the Spirit’s movement and learn what it is these situations have to teach me. A large part of my vocational calling is learning (as the name of this blog makes apparent!). My desire is to be committed to a lifelong journey of learning. The specific area that I feel called to continually learn from others is: how are communities, outside of my own, living out their confession of faith? When we ask this question on a global scale, the desire and need to learn from others has implications for the church as a whole (or, the global church). Questions like “How are other communities around the world living out their confession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior of heaven and earth?” and, more specifically, “How does our Anabaptist faith confession inform such witness around the world?” and “How can we as the church in North America learn from these communities?” begin to take center stage as a way in which we can grow together as the body of Christ. Maybe the first step I take in this direction is a stance of vulnerability in mission.

Vulnerability. There are going to be countless situations I face that will make me feel uncomfortable; that will make me feel like everything about me is exposed. And yet it is precisely in these scenarios I pray I can discern and hear what I am being taught. A stance of openness and unclenched hands is one that will take intentional discipline and formation in order to arrive at naturally. However, it is a stance that I believe will not only help me be attuned to the Spirit, but also to what the Spirit has for the church in North America to learn.

The church is God’s mission project. While there is much to be learned and worked towards before the earth looks like heaven, my hope is that all of us would be willing to take a step in the direction of healthy vulnerability. Even if it causes us embarrassment, makes us say, “¡Ay, qué pena!”, and requires us to think or act differently than we are used to. Because in the midst of all those feelings, as the Global church, we continue to remember the resurrection and the promise of Pentecost while remaining firmly grounded in the hope of the second coming.