Hannah's Blog: True greatness

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way that had been arguing about who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

-Mark 9:33

“I once thought the disciples were slow, but not now. I now think that the real challenge of Jesus was not a matter of intelligence but ultimately a challenge to give up an old vision and to accept a new one.”

-John Powell

A few months ago, I was at a retreat for university students on the east coast, where we studied the book of Mark for a week. It was called MarkEast, which is really pretty intuitive when you think about it. Today, I am not longer a university student, and I am no longer on the east coast. I am in Mozambique but I still the things I learned at MarkEast and the subsequent month in Halifax are sinking in. Studying the book of Mark I wondered over and over again “Why don’t the disciples get it?” Now I am asking myself that question: “Why don’t I get it?” Even after learning about true greatness, I still want greatness for myself. Even as a Christian, I find myself wanting to be the next Mother Teresa known for doing good works or C.S. Lewis known for insightful and intelligent writing. But then I remember. This is not what greatness is to Jesus.

During my time in Halifax and in Mozambique, I have met many truly great people. These people won’t get a Nobel Prize or be on the cover of Time Magazine. They won’t be interviewed by Ellen and when they die Elton John won’t write a song about them. But the Kingdom of God isn’t like this world. Jesus honours the humble.

People like Mrs. I. To tell the truth, her name escapes me. I can’t even remember how many children she’s had. But that does not change the fact that I am humbled and honoured to have met her. This woman is the mother of one of the Mozambicans who works in the office with us. The other weekend we three meninas accompanied our coworker and his wife to a church conference in his hometown of Nacala. We were graciously hosted by Mr. and Mrs. I. Here is a woman who has lived through Portuguese colonization, a brutal civil war, and a time when Mozambique was considered the poorest country in the world, all the while raising a family and serving in the church. And she treated us, as strangers, with the utmost respect and kindness, feeding us a veritable feast. For some reason she was rather fascinated with the quiet Canadian. She told me she had a grandson who was perfect for me. She liked me even though I was just a stranger enjoying her hospitality. I could not even offer conversation because my Portuguese is extremely weak. But still, the woman treated me like an old friend. I hope I can be that willing to offer folks my respect and love. As we were loading up the truck to leave on Sunday after all the goodbyes and I was about to get in the truck, Mrs. I said something to me. I couldn’t understand her so I looked questioningly at her son, my coworker. In broken English he tried to find the words for what she had said, something that apparently does not directly translate. “She said… you’re like… a sister.” I smiled at her as we drove away, and I couldn’t help but be in awe. How I wish I could be like Mrs. I! What a faithful mother, servant of Christ, and hard worker. She has doubtlessly lived through more sorrow than I will ever know. And yet she can still see a sister in a silent young stranger. I know that as a white person, Mrs. I could have felt angry and resentful against me. But she chose love. And even though I do not know this woman very well, I suspect that her life has been a long exercise in the habit of choosing love.