jogging, digressions, and Henri Nouwen

A friend (thanks, J!) emailed to me a book passage by Henri Nouwen right before I left to go home (already over a month ago, wow), and I was thinking about it this morning when I was jogging.

Before I continue, however, a small digression: I do want to share something that I always have meant to share about what it's like to go jogging in Kigali. When I was here two years ago, I wouldn't have felt comfortable going jogging, mainly because I was living out in a rural area where it was completely obvious that nobody jogged and I didn't want to create one MORE difference between me and the people I was living amongst (skin color difference: check; hair color difference: check; language difference: check....that, and more, was enough for one summer). I have since learned that there are many muzungus like me who live in rural areas who go jogging every day, and think nothing of it, but it just wasn't what I felt like doing. Maybe if my trip had been longer than six weeks I would have tried to figure out something.

Anyways, I am digressing from my digression (Victor and I call this "the web." Victor speaks linear-ly, in straight lines, and it is very easy to follow along, straight to the point he is communicating. I, on the other hand, speak tangent-ially, hitting one tangent, then another, then another, and finally will sometimes make it back to my main point. Maybe. Victor is a wonderful listener and I would like to publicly give him a ton of credit for patiently following along my web of thoughts, although I admit there are certain appropriate occasions when he very kindly tells me that he needs me to make my point. I asked him to do this, actually, and every so often he does, and that is just another thing I really appreciate about him. It's better than just tuning me out, which is the alternative, right? In fact, some of you right now, especially you Henri Nouwen fans, are wishing he were helping me write this blog entry, I know it.) Where was I? Oh yes. Digressing from the digression.

So, back to jogging. While I chose not to jog way out in rural Rwanda, here in the city of Kigali there are many joggers, and most of the ones I see are Rwandan. (And when I say "many" joggers, it's all relative: I will pass, perhaps, two joggers on average on any given morning, usually urban Rwandans). What I wanted to share is this: it is very encouraging to jog in Kigali, because whenever you pass a Rwandan jogger, s/he will usually do one of two things (and usually both):

1. clap both hands, applauding your jogging efforts. This is usually accompanied by a smile, a wide Rwandan smile that is just really hard to find anywhere else; and/or
2. shout, "Courage!" in French (which sounds like cour-AH-ge!!). The meaning is "great job!" or "keep going!"

So it's very nice. Especially when I first got here and was gasping for air, trying to adjust to the 6000 ft altitude, a little applause and a 'bon mot' went a long way to keeping me on track with my exercise plan. I wonder where the Rwandan jogging community picked up this nice encouraging habit. Imagine me doing this back in America? [Me to jogging passerby: "Courage!" with applause. Jogger: startled stare and silent look of "Freak!"] Jogging is so much more civilized in Rwanda, you know?

Alright, I just wanted to share that little slice of (urban) Rwandan life. And....I'm back to my original point. When I was jogging this morning, I was thinking about Henri Nouwen.

At first I wasn't thinking about Nouwen, exactly. I was puzzling out something in my head, kind of mulling it over and asking for guidance from God. It had to do with adventure, and God, and how much adventure He wants us to have, and what happens if we choose easy things instead of adventures. And whether or not we sometimes even use adventures to get out of things we should be doing instead. And how would we know the difference, anyways? I know, these are random things to think about, but I was wondering. Does anyone else ever have thoughts about not wanting to waste this one life we've been given? I think it's so easy to choose the safe thing sometimes; I see myself doing it over here at times. Kigali can actually be a very safe place (in the negative sense of "safe") if you make certain choices. But sometimes, "safe" is also boring, so sometimes we run from the safe when maybe we need to stay put and follow through with things sometimes. So, the bottom line of my train of thought, although I didn't realize it at the time, was "What will God think of me, and how will He treat me, if I don't do the right thing: i.e., if I choose the easy way out sometimes instead of the tough way? Or choose the tough way because I think the safe way is boring even though it might be the right choice?")

Anyhow, suddenly, a clarifying and helpful thought about this popped into my head, which is because of the Nouwen passage from my friend, copied below. And I suddenly had a measure of peace that I hadn't known a moment before...kind of like an it's-all-going-to-be-okay sense of peace. So, without further ado. Here's the passage:

“It is not so difficult to see that, in our particular world, we all have a strong desire to accomplish something. Some of us think in terms of great dramatic changes in the structure of our society. Others want at least to build a house, write a book, invent a machine, or win a trophy. And some of us seem to be content when we just do something worthwhile for someone else. But practically all of us think about ourselves in terms of our contribution to life.

But although the desire to be useful can be a sign of mental and spiritual health in our goal-oriented society, it can become the source of a paralyzing lack of self-esteem (the God-given understanding of our value as humans). More often than not, we not only desire to do meaningful things, but we often make the result of our work the criteria of our self worth.

When we start being too impressed by the result of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we become aware of it, we have sold our souls to the many grade-givers. That means we are not only in the world, but of the world. Then we become what the world makes us.

We are intelligent because someone gives us a high grade. We are helpful because someone says “thanks”. We are likeable because someone likes us. And we are important because someone considers us indispensable. In short, we are worthwhile because we have success. And the more we allow accomplishments -- the results of our actions – to become the criteria of how we view ourselves, the more we are going to walk on our mental and spiritual toes, never sure if we will be able to live up to the expectations which we created by our last successes.

But to live a Christian life means to live in the world without being of it. It is in solitude that this inner freedom can grow. Jesus went to a lonely place to pray, that is, to grow in the awareness that all the power he had was given to him; that all the words he spoke came from his Father; and that all the works he did were not really his but the works of the One who had sent him.

In solitude we can slowly discover in the center of our own self: that we are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us. In solitude we can listen to the voice of Him who spoke to us before we could speak a word, who healed us before we could make any gesture to help, who set us free long before we could give love to anyone. It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having, and that we are worth more than the results of our efforts.

In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared. It’s there we recognize that the healing words we speak are not just our own, but are given to us; that the love we can express is part of a greater love; and that the new life we bring forth is not a property to cling to, but a gift to be received.”

Henri Nouwen

Okay, me again. Not too much to add to that...although there are many thoughts in there that hit me.

"All the works He did were not really His, but the works of the One Who sent Him."
"We are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us."
"Being is more important than having."
"We are worth more than the results of our efforts."
"Life is not a possession to be defended but a gift to be shared."
"The love we can express is part of a greater love."
"It is in solitude that this inner freedom can grow."

What do you think?