The Glass Darkly

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Adaptation Reflections in Light of Incarnational Living

Adaptation is one of those abstract nouns you can't detect with your 5 senses but its reality makes life a lot easier and survival more sure for all living things. There are many indicators of adaptation which we can see and feel, but adaptation is more like a state of being than something concrete. Humans depend on it for both living processes as well as maintaining order in society and cultures. I always have been interested to see how culture demands conformity and conformity is really a form of adaptation, things you need to do to survive in a particular context.

Whenever I have moved to a new place or new experience, of course adaptation was necessary and in most cases I was unaware of my own adjustments. Perhaps I was most acutely aware of this dynamic when I moved to SE Asia, when every fiber of my being was stretched, challenged and evaluated 24/7. I knew I wanted to adapt and I did everything I could think of to help the process along in ways that were authentic. In this case, I felt adaptation was good, necessary and helpful because I wanted to relate to people in ways that were respectful, caring, relevant and, as I have been reflecting, incarnational. What I have struggled to understand in myself is why I have fought the same process upon my return to my "mother culture," the United States.

The truth is, my return is really no different if my aim is to live incarnationally. The process of adaptation focuses on the same things. I suppose, if I learned to sit and enjoy the company of, what most people around here would say are, "the least of these" (poorest of the poor in Cambodia), I guess I should learn to enjoy people here, where I am now. Afterall, this seems to be where God has plopped me -- for what reason, I still have no idea. But sometimes I think I should really get over my hang-ups and just allow myself to adapt. But there are certain areas of adaptation that have revealed things I still really struggle with personally, and maybe that is why I have been digging in my heels and looking with distain at the ways I have actually adjusted to fit in.

Values and language are big ones. To adapt anywhere, one must catch the lingo, the interests, and the patterns and preferences of communication. One must learn the taboos and the hierarchy of power to know to whom it is ok to say what and when. It is a tricky process of building trust and then acknowledging that trust can be lost at any moment when you mess up and don't get it right.

Some cultures are more forgiving than others. Some will laugh at you and enjoy your tries (like in Cambodia). Some will turn their nose up and give you a "shame on you" look. I learned to laugh a lot in Cambodia for I felt no judgment -- everyone laughed at each other for mistakes and fopas. One thing hard about adapting in the U.S. is people do not like to laugh -- neither at themselves nor at funny things we all attempt. There is a false-pride screen everyone holds up to hide shame.

Maybe that is one reason I have despised re-adaptation here in the U.S. I am not re-adapting to being a real person. I suppose in all cases of re-adaptation we force ourselves into doing things we are not accustomed to. But adaptation is usually behavior-focused. We still remain ourselves inside. And our past experiences and upbringing and mother-culture and mother-tongue accents remain a part of who we are. When I adapted to living in Cambodia, I was still accepted for being me - all those parts of me. No matter how much I would "screw up" in my adaptation, I could still acknowledge those parts of me that were different.

So maybe what I have hated about re-adaptation now is that I sometimes feel I can't really be me. I can't always feel comfortable exposing those parts of me that have made me who I am. Conformity sometimes feels so strong a force. And when I see myself conforming, at times, I despise myself. I catch myself reflecting the false-ness, superiority and image people insist on maintaining. There are people I associate with who try so hard to look perfect, it makes me know in my heart that I don't fit in. I am not perfect and I am ashamed at the ways I falsely try to be "perfect" just so I can talk to people I really like . . . afraid that if I don't put on the right look or say the right things, they won't want to talk to me.

I have slowly met people who are willing to be real. And as I purposefully refuse to put up a screen, I have found that others are more willing to be real and let down theirs. But the truth is, it is really hard to live incarnationally with screens that hide parts of ourselves. This is perplexing to me -- why do people live like this? It is also probably my biggest hang-up with the institutional church too. I really don't think the institutional church can ever be truly incarnational, for the institution, by its very nature is a screen, opposing the ethos of incarnation and grassroots.

Love cannot be felt through an institution. Love requires hands and feet and people. People at all levels need those who are willing to live incarnationally, relating as real people to extend the love of Christ and draw others into the Body. But the challenges of pushing through false-pride and screens that hide our vulnerabilities and common human struggles has been discouraging for me at times. I know I don't want to adapt to those types of coping mechanisms, for they are not life-giving and empowering. And I really think they are the biggest obstacles to our ability to express the Gospel of hope, love and peace.

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