"They"

When we first arrived in Senegal we had a very wise missionary colleague tell our family to beware of the word "they." She said that it is easy to fall into the trap of using the word "they" to refer to the Senegalese: "They do things like this." "They like this type of food." "This is how they act." This use of "they" sets up a barrier of sorts, we and "they," and it makes it much harder to assimilate into the culture and to become a part of the life here. "They" causes you to think and live like an outsider.

Consciously, we mean nothing by the use of the word as it gets used to state real differences that we have with our Senegalese friends. But subconsciously it puts up walls between us. And we are here to let the Gospel break down walls, rather than erect them.

So early on we started being aware of our use of the word "they." Anytime someone used the word it would be met with a quick, "ah!" and a pointed finger and we were faithful to police ourselves with a desire to acknowledge our differences while at the same time maintain an accepting posture. And we had really gotten to the point where hearing the word was rare.

Then the other night Thea asked some questions about what "they" do. Only this time the "they" was in reference to Americans. This time the use of the word "they" did not illicit finger pointing, but rather puzzled looks. Ezra was quick to chime in that Thea was a "they" in this context and then the puzzled look was found on her face. It was the first time where she had to come face-to-face with the reality that she really did not feel as if she belonged to a culture.

You see, for Thea, and I imagine this is true for Ez and Hosanna as well as most other missionary children, everyone is a "they."

The struggle for missionary kids is that you do not really fit in here in your new culture. No matter how well you adapt, how many trees you climb barefooted, how well you can wash clothes by hand, or how many languages you can speak, you are still not an insider. It is not that you are totally an outsider, but rather that you are never fully inside.

But the same thing is true for your passport country. You forget what life is like there and how things go. Life there seems foreign as well and while it rings with a familiarity, that ring gets more distant and faint the longer you are away. And then one day the Americans also become "they."

I fear there is not an easy recipe for this other than to love our children, listen to them well, and together with them long for a city whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10). Indeed, pilgrims are never at home.

So the children live with the reality that for them everyone but our family feels a little like a "they." We teach them to seek their refuge and their place of belonging in the never-changing Christ (Hebrews 13:8). And we walk this glorious, but often difficult, road of serving Jesus cross-culturally beside them. And we try not to use the word "they;" for Senegalese or for Americans.