This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm fairly opinionated.
Now that we've stated the fairly obvious reality...I have had fits trying to make my mind up about the ALS ice bucket challenge that has taken over the Facebook newsfeeds of the world. Or at least the developed world. Normally, I'm pretty good at analyzing what I see and reaching a conclusion - good or bad, right or wrong, I at least usually know where I stand.
This one has been different. I've been flooded (see what I did there?) with all kinds of feelings, most of which have a corresponding thread showing up on Facebook. Generally speaking, they can all be reduced down to one of the following ideas:
-ALS is a horrible disease; we should be doing more to find a cure for it.
-Water is a precious gift; it's disgusting to waste it so frivolously.
-This is a big distraction from the REAL news of the day, from Ferguson to Gaza.
-Isn't it good that social media is getting people to step up to the plate and give?
All legitimate points, in their own ways, and I don't think the truth of one necessarily cancels out the truth of other points. My hang-up hasn't been in the realm of logic.
I think, for me, the place where I've been stuck is much more personal - let's call it a tale of two cities. Dayton, Iowa and Dakola, Burkina Faso. They are a world apart from each in other in...well, just about every way, but equally important in my life story.
Dayton is where I spent a year of my life as an intern pastor, serving at Emanuel Lutheran Church. Part of my ministry there was accompanying our congregants in the local nursing home; I was there at least once a week to lead Bible Study, and usually tried to pick up another afternoon a week to do some visitation. One of the people I very often spent time with was a man named Carrol, who had late-stage ALS. In addition to watching Hawkeyes games and making jokes about the quirks of some of his neighbors, in our time together he also shared some of his pain and frustration about his disease. He died barely two weeks after I moved back to Chicago for my last year of seminary. His face is the one I see when I hear people talk about ALS. ALS, certainly, IS a horrible disease, and I've seen it up close.
Dakola, meanwhile, can hardly claim nearly as large of a share of time in my life, but for a tiny town that I passed through twice, it's had a disproportionately large impact on me. I spent a semester in Ghana as a junior in college; thanks to a light schedule, I traveled quite a bit. One of my trips took me to Burkina Faso and Mali; the latter was where I spent most of my time, and is certainly a sexier travel destination, but the former...well, read on.
Ghana in 2006 was not a wealthy nation, by any means, but it was then (and still is now) probably the most prosperous nation in West Africa with the highest standard of living. I saw poverty - extreme poverty, even - but even Ghana had not prepared me for what I saw across the border in Burkina Faso, which regularly makes the short list for "world's poorest nations." It is a dry, fairly barren-feeling stretch of savanna and sahel where water is not often seen, and not taken for granted. In Dakola, which is basically a crappy little border post with a bit of village around it, I saw another horrible disease - malnutrition. I remember being confronted by a group of kids, begging for change. They were in tattered, 4th-hand clothing; they were covered in dirt and dust because water is foremost for drinking, not bathing, in a place like Dakola. Their stomachs were distended; their eyes were hollow, empty, dead. I saw them every night before I'd finally pass out into restless sleep once I returned to the U.S. Their eyes left me unsure whether or not I believed in God for a while; the questions I wrestled with, and still wrestle with, because of them have formed me into the person I am.
So, I've felt stuck between two poles, two horrible realities...neither of which I want to help perpetuate. I can't blow off the ALS ice bucket challenge; I can't dump a bucket of water over my head. More than that, I don't want to be "that" person who smugly condemns others for the way they choose to navigate this one.
My solution: I'm donating both to ALSA and to Water to Thrive, a faith-based organization out of Austin that partners to dig wells in sub-Saharan African communities that do not have regular access to clean drinking water. That's what works for me; it's not my place to tell you what to do. Whatever you do, I hope you're able to find a way to make a difference, no matter how small, with the gifts God's given you.
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