Two men looked out from prison bars,
One saw the mud, the other saw stars.
– Dale Carnegie
You would think we would be experts by now. We have managed several transcontinental moves. We have changed cultures many times. And every single time we have met with the nasty phenomenon of culture shock. For us it sets in between three to six months after we arrive in a new culture. In the beginning there’s so much new to explore and do. It’s easy to generally be positive and excited about all the novelty. But when everyday drudgery sets in, so does the homesickness. And no matter how prepared we are for it—it can still kick like a mule.
It’s really a grief process where even some of the less-positive aspects of the life left behind take on a rosy sheen in the memory. One can understand a little better how the Israelites, after the dramatic rescue from Egypt and slavery, a few months later began to mourn, among other things, the fish, melons, and garlic (Num. 11:5) of Egypt and quite forgot about slavery. Fortunately for us, our moves were never fleeing from slavery or even danger, but it seems that there is something that makes change, even positive change, difficult.
While a certain amount of culture shock is normal and natural, we have found that in its shadow lurks a fundamentally dangerous issue. The issue is the mental moving back and hanging on to the past while subtly forgetting to be thankful for the present. Left unchecked and unprocessed, it has the power to suck all the life, joy, enthusiasm, and usefulness into a black hole of depression. This is fertile ground for setbacks on all fronts: emotionally, physically, and spiritually. And it is not a new phenomenon.
Left unattended, our hearts can become breeding grounds for warped memories, doubts, and even open rebellion.
Throughout the book of Numbers we see how our spiritual forebears became ripe for discontent, which spread like a virus and led to many setbacks on the journey. It was a shift away from the wonder, the miracle, of being fed daily with heaven’s food, having clothes and shoes that didn’t wear out, a cloud to protect them from the sun, and a column of fire to protect and keep them warm at night. Somehow, they forgot that God’s visible form in the pillar was leading them into the future: a future full of opportunities for joy and for new beginnings in the land flowing with milk and honey that God was leading them to.
Their legacy hasn’t left us. Left unattended, our hearts can become breeding grounds for warped memories, doubts, and even open rebellion. While one can try destructive forms of self-medication, such as endless scrolling on social media and looking back at what friends and colleagues in our old world are doing without us, there is no better cure than doing what the old hymn says—counting our blessings and naming them one by one.
It’s a lot more than an artificial attempt at positive thinking. It’s all about an attitude change. A recalibration toward the future and God. It’s saying a positive yes to life, to joy, to peace, and to usefulness based on trust in God. It’s all about developing an attitude of gratitude. The month of November is a good time to take stock and leave the fish, melons, and garlic in the past where they belong and renew the practice of looking up from the mud to see the stars.
