These past two weeks in West Timor and Sumba have been rather challenging.  My young family came with me this time, and they did incredibly well considering that we moved house every two days, met countless new people and spent long hours on rural bumpy roads.  Throw in a few late nights, upset bellies, a dog bite (Elijah), a head wound that probably should have had stitches (Chester), and if you have or have ever had young kids, you’d probably agree that makes for a challenging trip.

Yet last night as I lay there under a Waimarang mosquito net, I couldn’t help but feel strangely encouraged by our time here.  And as the clock snuck ever closer to 2am, I reckon I figured it out.

I think it was Robert Chambers who wrote in the ‘70s that the power dynamics of aid and development relationships are largely unacknowledged – particularly by those providing funding – and I reckon his words still ring true today.  Perhaps in a reflection of the depth of influence which neo-liberal economics has on us in the West, power tends to follow the money trail from donor to beneficiary.  While this might often be the way things work in the Australian context, I would argue that it’s certainly not always the best way to get things done – particularly in the aid and development sphere.  For example, while I have a very high level of influence over which proposals sent to Amos Aid will get approved, in reality I really have no idea what people need in Kuibaat, West Timor – or how to best address those needs.  Should I really have that much power over a decision I have so little information about?  Probably not.

But it’s hard not to get sucked into the tempting lure of having that sort of power over others – and on bad days I undoubtedly abuse my position.  There’s an uglier part of me that wants to play god in the lives of others, that wants to have them clamouring for my approval, my influence, my presence – perhaps because it gives me the brief illusion that I am loved.

And so I’m highly appreciative of the challenge laid out to me in Amos Aid’s mission: serving the poor as equals before God.  Serving the poor is – in some ways – easy.  Serving the poor as equals before God is significantly harder.  It shifts the goalposts from service delivery to relationship.  It means that my job includes attempting to address historical, deeply rooted power imbalances.  It means that I need to get over my pride and desire to pay for everything and instead learn to accept the incredible generosity of rural Indonesian hosts – as they in turn accept Amos Aid’s generosity.  It means that I request their advice and assistance for my life as they request ours.  It means that I need to repeatedly re-calibrate my inherently racist brain so that I am able to believe – deep in my bones – that each person I meet is truly my equal and an incredible being uniquely hand-crafted by God.  It means that I need to be more interested in people than their poverty.  On good days I’m able to do some of the above, though I wish it came more easily.

This is perhaps why these challenging weeks developed an encouraging quality under that 2am mosquito net.  As I reflected on the past two weeks, I saw glimpses of equality; one partner giving a helpful critique of and creative solution to another project we’re designing; the tentative sharing of vulnerabilities and fears with another; just last night, the division of project decisions and design according to giftedness – not according to bank balances.  It felt more like friendship than the manoeuvrings of chess that I at times turn my job into.  And in those moments this past fortnight, I believe the kingdom of God grew ever so slightly; in their lives, in my life and the lives of the people we’re attempting to serve.  For that I’m thankful and left hungering and praying for more.