Rain in Antep

November 2, 2009

After the first two months with absolutely no rain (except for a shower or two that lasted all of ten minutes once in a great while), rain has come to Antep, somewhat with a vengeance. The rain isn’t nearly as fierce as it would be, in say, Florida, but it is constant. Even when it isn’t actually falling, it remains overcast and dreary all day long. This makes for very sleepy weather.

The first term of English classes, meanwhile, is drawing to a close. Today marked the beginning of Week six of eight. And week eight consists of final exams, so it’s really only this week and next that we have for language learning. I’m sure a number of my students will fail, but several will pass, especially in my second class.

We had last Thursday off for Republic Day, but then had to return to work on Friday. There were very few students here, as many of them had returned home or elsewhere for the holiday. So one of my colleagues had planned on showing a movie, and was able to show it in the auditorium so that students who were here could watch. Since we had been learning food words, the movie was Ratatouille. Good thing, because, I confess, I had not done much planning for Friday.

In fact, the past week has been quite eventful, but not in any way you might think. I now have a girlfriend. It’s not really so sudden as it seems, as I met Christina before I left, and we have been in frequent contact since I’ve been here. In fact, I’ve spoken to her more than I have to anyone in my own family! We were both clearly interested in each other, but I was hesitant to start a relationship when I was so far away and uncertain what the future held.

But before we made our relationship official, I had been considering my academic interests, which have come to revolve around identity and the ways that literature and language play a role in shaping it or communicating it. As I thought for the hundredth time about this, and wondered how it fit with my desire to join Wycliffe Bible Translators, it suddenly occurred to me that this interest in identity and its reflection or shaping through language and literature were not at all incompatible. In fact, because I think of identity as a very spiritual thing, my academic and missional interests stem from the same source. With this realization, I felt free to pursue Wycliffe, and consequently, Christina ;).

I had a brief dilemma regarding the church I’ve been attending here, when they announced a Benny Hinn conference being held in Istanbul soon. Benny Hinn’s theology is terrible, and it’s hard not to see him as a money-grubbing false prophet. However, the pastor of the church here and his wife could not do their work in a fairly barren place such as this - that is, in a predominantly Muslim country - without succor from the true God. So I will continue going, though I have yet to determine what role I can play in Christ’s kingdom here.

On a more positive note, there are new people at the church every time I attend. This absolutely amazes me, as I would not imagine there could be so much interest in Christianity in a Muslim country. When I mentioned this to the pastor, he said that it isn’t a problem getting new people to come, it’s a problem getting them to stay. I’m still so blown away by the fact that they come at all that it’s hard for me to acknowledge the obvious discouragement I heard in his voice. So that is a matter for prayer: that the gospel would not just be seed on a rock or among thorns, but that it would find good soil, and grow deep in people’s hearts.

Finally, last Wednesday, my co-teacher and I were invited out to one of our students’s homes for dinner. After I checked to be sure this was acceptable in this culture, I agreed to go. That made for a fascinating experience. I felt as though I got to see how a real Turkish family lives. But there were darker tinges to the experience as well. When we arrived, our student’s father attempted first to talk to me, because I was another man. The only problem, of course, is that I don’t speak very much Turkish. He was forced to communicate to Elif, which he was obviously uncomfortable doing. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes. Once we arrived at their home, it was the mother’s and the children’s duties to serve, and the father’s to make sure everyone was being served. This was not so bad in and of itself, as its simple hospitality, but it still brought to mind thoughts of repression, in that it is not an option for the mother or daughter to serve in any other capacity.

So it has been raining here in Antep, in many ways. Rain is always, for me, a cause for reflection. There is dreariness, and perhaps sorrow to a degree, but mostly a drive to contemplation. So it is the perfect occassion to post this.