Culture shock is, to say the least, incredibly shocking. (Cue rim shot)
But truly, it is aptly named. I am now three weeks in to my service overseas, and I have to say that all the training in the world could not have prepared me for what I have experienced so far here. Let me say also, before I get too far into this, that I absolutely love my new home: the sights, the smells, and the people are all truly amazing here, each showing more of the beauty of the Lord through their own quirks and manner of expression. However, I have discovered so much about myself already since I have been here that have both positive and negative connotations.
I had been in training for six weeks previous to coming here, and we discussed at length what culture shock looks like for a person and about how we respond to shock. In coming here now, I discovered that my personality has a tendency to flex to the opposite end of the spectrum that it usually sits on. I count myself normally to be a carefree individual, who loves freedom in time and movement, and loves exploring new things and opportunities. Part of my response to shock here is adapting to become a “Type A” personality, which has meant lists galore, extreme scheduling, and tracking expenses (I am an ENFP, which means that this grates against my soul like a cheese grater). Thank the LORD for the grace of good teammates, good neighbors, and good food, because I would not have survived without the gift of those people and things.
As I looked at myself after the first week here and saw who I was here, I did not enjoy what I saw. It seems that as I saw myself scooped out and laid before the throne of God, the harder it was to recognize who I was, even in how I connected with the Father.
This has been a part of my identity being reformed while here. A large part of culture shock for me has been seeing my identity stripped down to its most basic essentials and seeing nothing but the cross. While in theory a beautiful process, it is also one of the messiest processes someone can endure, and it has definitely been a messy process for me. God has never stopped being a good Father: my rock and battle shield in times of trouble, but as my comforts disappear, part of my identity does as well. The things that I have taken comfort are gone, and only my sweet Father remains.
I see myself now and see God’s hand in the formation of my identity as a woman of God. Though I have been aware of my nature as beloved, I am beginning to see how much God cares for the minutia of who I am, and desires to give gifts to nurture those parts of me that He created unique to me. Humility has been a skill in development, as I cleave myself to My Comforter and away from my home country and earthly comfort.
This process is a long one, but I am at a place now where I am excited to see the depth of God in this new context. Please be remembering me as I continue to do life here, because it doesn't ever stop being messy.
As I have been tracking through the Psalms during my time here, this one stood out to me because of the characteristics of God that David so wonderfully admired through song:
Psalm 18:1-2: I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.