He Is Our Child

Last Saturday evening, I waved goodbye to my family at Bole International Airport; Sunday morning I returned to welcome Matthew, the summer intern who will have a front row seat in our adventures these next three months. When we accepted the possibility of having an intern, we knew that we were taking a risk. You see in our mind, an intern is different from a normal “short-termer”. “Short termers” often come to accomplish a special, well-defined task, usually in support of an ongoing work, and they rarely stay long enough for the newness to wear off. Interns, on the other hand, come to observe and participate in the work, much like an intensive job shadowing time, and they are hopefully able to stay long enough to feel the real stressors of cross-cultural living. The purpose of an internship is often not to make an impact, but rather to be impacted, gaining a feel for the work, experience that God might then use to provide clear direction down the road. A successful internship should either make, or break any aspirations of such a career! Our risk is having to pick up the pieces if there turns out to be more “breaking” than “making.”

I’ve been with Matthew now one week, and honestly, I am thoroughly impressed.  He is a good thinker, with lots of travel experience (being an MK himself). He is intelligent, well-read, and communicates very well. But more than that. He has a real desire to dive into the work of Bible translation.

Tuesday morning, Matthew and I met with the Gmz translators for the first time. We found ourselves an empty conference room, set up computers and dug into team checking Luke 11. Despite our bouncing around between Amharic and Gmz languages (with very little English), Matthew stayed engaged, doing his best to pick up on words here and there. At the tea break, he sat with the translators, learning new words through charades and what broken English they could muster. After lunch I met the translators in the hallway, “So what do you think of Matthew?” I asked as we walked toward our room. They looked at me with smiles, “He is our child!” responded Worku to which the others nodded in agreement. Wow I thought, what a compliment to him, as in effect they were already saying of him, “He is one of us!” How could this be? In just four short hours, how were they were able to look past his white skin, his tall frame, his blonde hair, his foreign language and culture? How could they so quickly identify him as one of their own? And then it hit me. From the initial meeting, Matthew was not just an observer. No, Matthew’s interaction with the guys reiterated over and over again, in no uncertain terms, “I want to learn your language.” I’ve always believed that one’s mother tongue is something held very close to one’s heart, a vital part of their identity, but here was a living example. “He is our child,” Worku’s words echoed in my head. Why? Because Matthew isn’t asking them to become like him, instead he making the effort to enter into their Gmz world by means of something most dear to them, their language!

It is our prayer that Misa (God) powerfully breaks through, deep into his people’s hearts via that same cherished channel.