_The Right to What I Consider a Normal Standard of Living_
_"Have we no right to eat and to drink?"_--I Corinthians 9:4
The white-haired mission secretary looked at me quizzically. "Well,"
he said, "it's all in your point of view. We find that these days in
the tropics people may look upon the missionary's American
refrigerator as a normal and necessary thing; but the cheap print
curtains hanging at his windows may be to them unjustifiable
extravagance!"
* * * * *
My mind goes back to a simple missionary home in China, with a cheap
rug on the painted boards of the living-room floor. I can see country
women carefully skirting that rug, trying to get to the chairs
indicated for them without stepping on it. Rugs, to them, belonged on
beds, not on floors, and they would no more think of walking on my rug
than you would on my best blanket! I think of our dining table set for
a meal, and visitors examining with amazement the silver implements
instead of bamboo chopsticks; and white cloth instead of a bare table.
I think of having overheard our cook say proudly to a chance comer,
"Oh, of course they have lots of money! Why, they always eat white
bread; and they have meat every day, nearly; and as for sugar--why,
you just can't imagine the amount of sugar they use!"
* * * * *
English service was over, and we went home with a lady doctor and
nurse of another mission. They had invited us to Sunday night supper.
The sermon, delivered by a missionary of still another mission, who
was stationed in the city, had been striking and thought-provoking.
The text had been Luke 8:14: "And that which fell among thorns are
they, which, when they have heard, go forth, and are choked with cares
and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to
perfection."
"This verse must refer to missionaries," the speaker had begun,
"because it says that when they have heard, they go forth."
He had gone on to describe a picture he would like to paint. All
around the border were to be the "cares" and "riches" and "pleasures"
that hindered the real work of the missionary. Subjects that hit home
were mentioned--there would be a big account book that tied the
missionary down so that he had no time for a spiritual ministry; a
teacup, symbolizing the round of entertaining that may develop in a
city where there is a relatively large missionary community; a house
and its furnishings, needing constant attention; and so on. The
conclusion of the sermon had been very solemnizing, because of all
these cares and pleasures and things that are second to God's best, it
is tragically possible that the missionary may "bring no fruit to
perfection."
At the supper table we had an interesting discussion of the sermon and
its implications. Then the lady doctor made a remark that I have never
forgotten.
"When Frances and I set up this house," she said, "we agreed that one
principle must never be violated. We would have nothing in our
house--its furnishings its arrangement--nothing that would keep the
ordinary poor people among whom we work from coming in, or that would
make them feel strange here."
* * * * *
A standard of living--what does it amount to? How important is it?
Does it matter whether we missionaries sleep on spring beds, or those
made of boards (I prefer the latter myself!), whether we eat with
chopsticks, or fingers, or forks; whether we wear silk or homespun;
whether we sit on chairs or on the floor? Does it matter whether we
are poor or rich? Does it matter whether we eat rice or potatoes?
Does it matter whether we live in the way to which we are accustomed,
or adopt the way of living of those to whom we go?
It may matter quite a lot to ourselves. Most of us like potatoes
better than rice. That is to say, most of us like things the way we
are used to having them rather than some other way. What is to be our
attitude on the mission field? Are we free to try to have things the
way we would like them, and to live, as much as possible, as we would
at home? Or ought we to attempt, as far as we can, to conform to the
way of life of the people among whom we live? This, of course, brings
us to other questions: Does it matter to the people to whom we go
whether we conform or not? And, more important, does it matter insofar
as the progress of the Gospel is concerned? Will our conforming help
to win souls to Christ?
The first thing to be said in answer to these questions is that the
standards of missionary living necessarily must vary with local
conditions. In some places there is a mixture of races and peoples,
each in general keeping with its own customs and dress, and yet mixing
freely with the others. In such places there may be many Westerners,
and Western ways may not only be familiar, but even adopted to a
certain extent by the local people. In situations like this there may
be little or no need for the missionary to change his ordinary way of
life.
Most missionaries go to places where the way of life is different from
their own, and to people to whom their way of life is strange and by
whom it is not understood. It is natural for us to like people who do
things in the way in which we like them done. We are attracted to
those who seem the same as ourselves, and turn (perhaps unconsciously)
from those who seem queer and different. People of other lands are the
same. When we see someone whose complexion, features, clothing,
language, manners, and customs are different from our own, our natural
reaction is to stare, or laugh, or both. It is not natural to be
attracted to those who are different from ourselves. The missionary
wants to attract people. People must be attracted to him before they
can be attracted to his message. They must accept him before they will
accept his message. The more we can conform to their way of life, the
easier and more natural and more rapid their acceptance of us will be.
The report of a China Inland Mission conference of missionaries held
in England a few years ago includes as one of the lessons learned from
past experience of missionary work in China, "the will to conform as
nearly as possible to the social and living conditions of the people
to whom we went." This means, of course, that different missionaries
will live according to different standards. For example, my sister
Frances and I are both members of the China Inland Mission. During the
past few years I have been living in the modern and wealthy city of
Singapore. I lived according to an ordinary middle-class
standard--which meant running water, electricity, gas, and modern
plumbing. I was conforming to the social standards and living
conditions of the people to whom I went. During the same time my
sister was in the Philippines, living in a palm-leaf hut in a clearing
in the jungle, carrying her own water and sleeping on the floor. She
was conforming to the social standards and living conditions of the
people to whom she went. Paul says: "I am become all things to all
men, that I may by all means save some" (I Cor. 9:22). He found what
the present-day missionary finds, that to some extent he must adopt
the way of life and the standard of living of the people to whom he
was sent.
* * * * *
Now, in what measure will it be desirable to adopt the local way of
life? What principles will guide us? Well, in the first place we will
certainly want to become familiar enough with it so that we feel at
home in their homes. If we find their way of sitting uncomfortable,
and their food unpleasant, they are not going to enjoy having us as
guests. I may think it disgusting to eat my rice off a banana leaf
with my fingers, but if I show that disgust, I probably will not be
invited again. And my hostess may decide that I am merely an
unmannerly foreigner, and that there is no profit in pursuing my
acquaintance, or in listening to the strange stories of Someone called
Jesus that I am so fond of telling. It is also in their homes that we
may become really acquainted with them, and learn to know their needs.
When we have become familiar with how they eat, how they sleep, how
they work, how they play, what they like, what they dislike, what they
hope, what they fear, how they think, how they feel--when we really
understand them, then, and only then, will we be able to present the
Gospel to them in an adequate way.
In the second place, we will want to live in our own homes on the
mission field in such a way as to make our neighbors feel at home when
they come to call on us. The fundamental attraction will not be
externalities and material things. Even though I live in a little hut
that is identical with their own, if in my heart I just do not like to
have them around, they will know it, and they will not be attracted to
me. But if not only the love and the welcome are there, but also a way
of life that corresponds to their own, the approach will be made still
easier.
This does not mean, of course, that I will unthinkingly accept all
local standards. If I go to Central Africa, I probably will not decide
that wearing clothes is an unjustifiable luxury. There is no need for
me to neglect to sweep the floor of my palm-leaf hut just because my
neighbors do not sweep theirs. The fact that everyone else chews betel
nut, or plays mah-jongg, does not mean that I will take up these
practices. But I will want, as far as possible, to live the sort of
life that it would be suitable for a native[1] Christian to imitate.
Another point must also be considered here. We missionaries might
voice it like this: "I would love to live as the native peoples do, if
I only could; but I just can't take it!" It is true that we may not be
able to live entirely as they do and keep our health. The man who was
born and bred in the tropics finds the climate just what he likes. The
same climate takes all the energy out of the missionary who has come
from the temperate zone. Foreigners are more susceptible to local
diseases than natives. If the missionary eats only what the local
people do, his health may break down. If he himself does all the
household chores in a land in which there are no modern conveniences,
he may find that he has very little time left in which to study the
language or preach the Gospel. On most mission fields it is found that
a certain amount of variation from the local mode of life is necessary
if the missionaries are to continue in good physical and mental
health.
We can, however, gradually get used to unfamiliar things. I remember
once, after I had been in China a few years, visiting a neighboring
mission station. New workers had arrived there, a young couple fresh
from language school. I was eager to meet them, but they did not
appear. In answer to my inquiry, the reply was, "Oh, they were invited
out to a feast last night, and it's upset them both! They are both in
bed!"
My heart sank. Whatever use will these young workers be, I thought, if
they can't eat Chinese food? They won't be able to go to the country
and minister in all the little country churches that are so much in
need of help--they can't get Western food there! They had better have
stayed at home!
After a few years had passed, however, the young man mentioned above
did start to do country work, and he did it very acceptably. What is
more, he even came to prefer an ordinary country meal of local food to
the best Western dishes that his wife could give him at home! Seeing
that, I began to realize a thing that should be a comfort to all young
workers who find the food or the living conditions difficult. _Over a
period of time familiarity not only turns difficulty to ease, but
often even removes the "dis" from dislike!_
The young worker goes with an older one to make a call or two.
Everything is new. Everything is strange. Everything is nerve-wearing.
If a seat is offered, it is uncomfortable. If food or drink is
offered, either may be unpleasant. Even if he understands more or less
of what is being said, the conversations are tiring. And by the time
he reaches home he is utterly worn out. As far as he is concerned,
however, that is not the worst. He looks at the older worker who has
taken him out--someone getting on in years, perhaps a bit stooped, and
obviously not in the pink of health. This missionary has done all the
younger one did, and more. He also preached a few times to crowds that
gathered, and he carried on endless conversations, but just listening
made the younger worker tired. Yet this older man somehow has arrived
home as fresh as a daisy!
The new worker, in his first station, often has to go through a stage
in which he finds everything uncomfortable, unattractive, and
difficult, but there is no need for him to become discouraged. Even
that older worker probably did too, although he may have forgotten it!
The change comes slowly, and the young missionary may not be able to
see it for a long time, but if he everlastingly keeps at it, he will
surely find that, after a few years, familiarity has made the
difficult easy. Most people will find, as well, that it has even made
the distasteful pleasant!
* * * * *
A mother was coaxing her little daughter to eat her vegetable. "But I
don't like it!" the child objected.
"But you will," encouraged the mother. "Just eat it a few times and
you will get used to it. It won't be long before you really like it!"
The child sat stock-still for a moment, considering. Then she burst
out, "But I don't _want_ to like the horrid stuff!"
Other people's ways, other people's customs, other people's
standards--do we _want_ to like them? Or do we cling tenaciously to
our own, insisting that they are the only good and right ones? It is
the attitude of mind and heart that matters. If we are willing to give
up our own standard of living, willing to live as far as possible
according to someone else's standards, then surely it is the business
of our Master to make that possible in such degree as He sees is
needed and best. Before we go to the field then, let us give up all
right to our own standard of living, and be ready contentedly to
embrace, as far as He makes possible, that of the people to whom He
sends us.