I’m sitting here wanting to write what’s
on my heart, but so many emotions are riddling my mind that I had not yet put
to paper what I have needed to say, until now.
I admit that in a love for my people makes me protective to the point
that I am prone to hate those who hate.
So how do I educate, speak on my community’s behalf without vengeance
seething within me? Prayerfully. Patiently.
Recognizing where I can easily try to right things by making a wrong
move (or statement), and yet, giving my heart and its cries to God.
◊
When people inquire what it’s like to live
on the Rez aka an Indian Reservation, they often ask questions such as, “So, is
there alcoholism? Are drugs an issue? Is your community impoverished? Do people gamble?” I don’t get questions like, “Do they still
live in teepees?” Most people seem to
understand that we all live in the 21st century. I was asked that only once…apparently, they
were trying to be humorous. (Yeah, not
funny.) But back to the original
questions.
Ever since living on the Rez – which will
be four years as of this August – I have known what the stereotype is of First
Nations people, but I am asked in such a way that only confirms what ideas
people already have in their heads.
Because truth is, yes. Poverty is
prevalent; both alcoholism and drugs are social concerns. Yes, we have a casino. People are afraid to stay in Browning. They mark it as “dangerous”. And yet…this is my home, and this is my
community. I really don’t know how to
answer these questions. I try to do so
politely, and yet honestly. However,
truthfully, because of the implication and intention of the question, I believe
that the whole truth isn’t given room to be shared. I guess this blog is my way of doing
that.
If I could say what really goes on in my
head when I have these stereotypical questions asked, a lot more would be said
than just to suit outsiders’ minds.
First and foremost, I would reply with my own question: “Doesn’t your
town have the same issues, though?”
Because if anyone wants to point out the alcoholism – point at my
(biological) family first. I, a white
person, know that there has been a generational curse of addictions. My dad was an alcoholic for 30 years before
giving his life to the Lord and giving it up.
He has been 22 years sober.
Drugs? Missoula – my hometown –
not Browning, is the meth capital of Montana.
The opioid epidemic is an epidemic not only on reservations, but across
the whole United States. Casinos? How many does Missoula, or any other city
have? More than one.
The irony of these questions is that they
focus on ratio rather than the presence of…we call them social concerns, God
calls it sin. We pick certain cities,
towns, areas, and groups of people with a higher ratio of a presence of sin, and
then we think ourselves in the least blessed, at most better than the
“others”. We look at Las Vegas, Reno –
call it “Sin City” and talk about how they
need Jesus. But what about us?
Tell me if I am wrong. I would love to be.
The reality of these concerns is that they
can, and are, found in every state. They
aren’t just Rez issues. They are all of
man’s concern, because the roots have been laced throughout every tribe on this
planet, and it is called sin. Maybe the
ratio isn’t the same. I’ll give you
that. Your city might have great
programs that support people fairly well.
However, in the paradox of these questions, I find it interesting that
God isn’t really interested in ratios.
We, as humans, like to determine someone’s
goodness by how much good is in them. Or
vice versa. They are bad, because they
have done this much bad stuff. But God
doesn’t weigh sin. He only asks if it is
present. In Isaiah 64:6 (AMPC), it says,
“For we have all become like one who is unclean [ceremonially, like a leper],
and all our righteousness (our best deeds of rightness and justice) is like
filthy rags or a polluted garment; we all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities,
like the wind, take us away [far from God's favor, hurrying us toward destruction].” When the woman was caught in adultery, He
said for those without any sin could cast stones (John 8:1-7). James tells us that if we are guilty of
breaking one of God’s commandments, he or she is guilty of them all
(James 2:10).
Does sin, no matter where it is found need
to be repented of? Yes. But is this the full story? No.
There is a greater poverty than the physical stature of a home and an
inability to provide for simple needs.
There is a greater wealth than how many zeroes can be written on a
check. The answer to both is whether or
not one has Jesus in their lives.
Yes, there has been death. But there is also life. There has been destruction, but there is also
restoration. There has been brokenness,
but there is also healing. There has
been heartache, but there is also joy.
There have been tears, but there is laughter. There has been despair, but there is also
hope. There has been a grave, but there
is also a Resurrection. And so, as we
wait for it’s fulfillment, we hold onto the glimpses of the beauty here on the
Rez.
◊
The
Land.
Just take the time to walk around the
meadows and mountains, and it’s clear to see what a creative God we serve. The flowers, grass, sky, and animals speak splendor
and it’s so wonderful to be surrounded by it.
In my moments where I need to run away to find a personal refuge and
hear God’s voice clearly, I immediately run to a meadow and walking trail by
the high school. To be surrounded by all
that He has made, stripped of all the distractions, reminds me how God is so
big to paint the vast sunsets, but is so delicate to fine-tune the details in
the littlest flowers. If He is able to
carry so great the earth, and mold the smallest ant, can He not care for me. There is a stillness and a rest when I sit in
the midst of its beauty. The land here
reminds me the majesty of the God I serve.
The
Culture.
“Oki, nistanikoo…” When someone may say this, they are greeting
you. It had been shoved and covered;
children were forced to leave their heritage behind, but it’s making a
comeback. God made each tribe with its
own individual characteristics, and it’s remarkable to hear the language and to
see other aspects of the culture, such as the dances still thriving. We have an immersion school, so students can
learn entirely in Blackfeet, up until the 8th grade. Not every student attend, but it’s a great step
in encouraging kids to remember who they are, as a family, and as a people.
Every year, we have pow-wows in which children on up to the elders dance a
variety. There is a beautiful history
of how they lived and traveled long ago.
The artwork that many of the artists fashion shows such a wonderful
attention to detail and a mix of traditional concepts (i.e. beading) mixed with
a modern style. Of course, there is
always more for me to learn, but I enjoy learning it. It has been a personal blessing to be able to
photograph a people who are now rising out from ashes of years of abuse and are
growing to learn to know what it means to be Blackfeet. 
The
People.
When it really comes down to it, it’s the
people I live among that make this one of the best places to live. I will drive
home from work, and there are kids laughing, playing, and smiling…just as any
kid would do. Sometimes people will ride
their horses around just for the fun of it, and it gives a home touch. The Rez dogs are seriously the most friendly you'll ever meet in the whole US. It’s in the hug of a friend. It’s in the warmth of having a meal with
loved ones (give me some of that frybread, any day…jokes). It’s in the caring for a loved one, and the
boldness to visit them when you know that they may be struggling or rushing
over and calling first thing in the morning after hearing amazing news. It’s in the ability to laugh at situations,
and to teasingly show our affection (note to visitors: if you are being teased,
that’s a good thing. It means we see you
as a friend.). It’s in the respect we
have for elders. It’s being able to find family among friends, and to have each other’s back. It’s
in the perseverance in the face of hardships and helping a neighbor no matter
the cost. It’s in the understanding that
we are all in this together, and we will walk together, as one. 
What makes the Rez? It’s the people. They are such a gift. I knew growing up, that I was going to go
into missions one day, but I never thought I would be going to a
reservation. However, seeing what God is
already doing, witnessing the seeds that are being planted, and hearing the
visions that people are having…I would not change a thing. Because, just as much as God loves me, He
loves the Blackfeet too. Just as He ran
after me, Jesus died on the cross for me, He died for them too. Just as I was made in the image of God, so
were the Blackfeet.
I get to call God a father…I call Him Daddy. I want the Blackfeet to know Him like this as
well. For so long, the portrayal of Jesus has been harsh, ultimate, and
abusive. But God loves people. Sin separated us from Him, but He didn’t want
us to die with it, so Jesus took that punishment. I want the Blackfeet (and any Native tribe or
group in America and all over the world) to know that truth. I want them to know that they don’t have to
earn salvation. In fact, they can’t. No one can.
Salvation is a gift, given by Creator God.
Yes, our community is not perfect. Yes, we have our social plights, and the questions
addressed at the beginning of this blog is just a hint. There has been abuse. There has been rejection. There are wounds so deeply embedded that it
has been taking years to just start discussing them in an effort to bring
wholeness. Sure, there may be a long way
to go. Much to be done, but God is
already moving. It’s small. Almost seems insignificant. But with every rain drop, a lake can start
forming. 
Grassroot efforts have produced a voice to
raise awareness and to encourage the change we long to see. The people heading it up are folks who have
been firsthand touched by the death that seems to slither here, and yet, in their
lives, God has given them the grace to stomp on that snake’s head and raise up
above the status quo here. I have
friends who have been abused, and yet now, they have joy that is visible to any
passerby. I have friends who were
abandoned, but found family in Christ. I
have friends who had fathers or mothers leave them, and yet, with God’s help,
are becoming fantastic parents to their own kids. I know former drug addicts and those who have
been in prison now spearheading political steps to make the lives of their
children and grandchildren be more abundant and full than what they were able
to have. We have Blackfeet and nonnative
teachers side by side, pouring into children, telling them they have a purpose,
that there is hope and there is possibility for their futures. The cycles are starting to turn.
God has already begun to change. Generation by generation. Family by family. House to house. Yes, it seems small now. But it’s just the start. No bill or federal mandate can reverse what
sins have corrupted this land. (Look
back at the 1920s, legislating morality does NOT work.) But we have been making a stance and walking;
praying that God would take back this land, make this people His people, and
His name to be glorified. What’s so
amazing about this beauty is knowing that God has worked in peoples’ lives
already, and thus I know He can work in the rest of our community. If you are struggling with anything, I know
He can and will do something in your life.
God has never abandoned the Blackfeet. He never failed them. Yes, they went through hell, but He had never
turned His back on them. Rather, when Jesus
was on the cross, the Blackfeet (as well as all tribes around the world) were
on His mind, because He wanted a relationship with them. And as more people come to know Him, the
wounds that were seeded over 200 years ago can start healing, and the renewing
of the persons are forming. So, we will keep
walking and praying until the fruition comes.
There is a vision we have for these sleeping giants – and that is they
would WAKE. We continue to run with it,
in hope, that the promise may not tarry (Habakkuk 2:2-3).
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