DISCOMBOBULATED

Discombobulated. Great word that, sort of rolls around your mouth. I was enjoying a family holiday recently and I was trying to work out my state of mind or at least find a word that described it, and that was it. Discombobulated.

The problem was that I and a number of my family members (9, leaving the other 10 at home) were on holiday in what by local standards could only be conceived as luxury. We had a large villa to ourselves, staff to provide breakfast and other meals as required and our laundry taken and delivered daily. We had our own swimming pool and the air conditioning dealt with the tropical heat and humidity. All of this was behind a secure wall with a security guard just outside to ensure our safety. All in all in it was a fantastic place to be. So what was the problem?

On the other side of the wall lived those who served us and many others in comparative poverty. They depended on the wage they received and the tips given by those who used their services. The infrastructure was either non-existent or badly run down, traffic rules were suggestive at best and there was little joy to be seen on the faces of those who sat at the roadside or tried to convince us to buy their wares.

This for me created a sense of dis-ease. Here am I, an advocate for social justice, I write about it, speak about it, campaign, sign petitions and fundraise on behalf of those who are disadvantaged. But now I was sitting in the midst of it but separate from it because I had the financial ability to pay for a safe haven in the midst of the squalor and disappointment endured by the local community.

For those who haven’t figured it out, this was Bali. The chosen holiday destination of many Australians. They choose it because it is cheap and it is accessible. For years millions of dollars have been poured into this island by visitors, but it does not seem that much of it is serving to improve the lives of the locals. There are beggars who appear at car windows on major road ways, the hawkers in the shops and markets make the walk along the road way unpleasant and the need to constantly refuse an offer to buy something quickly turns the polite ‘no thank you’ to a curt ‘no’ or attempt not to make eye contact at all. We teach our children to beat these sellers down to the lowest possible price no matter whether it is reasonable or fair.

The people who served us in our villa were and are beautiful, friendly people. Always ready with a smile and offer to help. However I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on beneath the smile, did they have any hope that one day they too could enjoy the type of privilege we were enjoying? Was there any expectation for their children other than more of the same? Was there a sense of resentment there, or is that only the preserve of the well off and the entitled?

As a minister of the gospel I believe and proclaim that the good news is a message of hope, that this message brings transformation and expectation of an eternal inheritance. But as I sat in my villa I had to ask myself, how this message would or could be received in a place like Bali, especially as so many of those who visit from a so-called Christian nation are happy to maintain the social imbalance so that they (and I) can still afford our cheap holiday.

I returned to Australia on Australia Day, the day when we celebrate the place we live by drinking a lot (it’s the Australian thing to do) and spending millions of dollars on an hour or so exploding little coloured lights in the sky.

We had a great holiday, we enjoyed the places we saw and the people we met. The church we attended was gracious and enthusiastic. But for me, I was left with a great sense of frustration – what could I do to make the difference that needs to be made. What is the point of preaching a message of hope and engagement in the life of others if nobody listens and nothing changes?  I will get over it and get back to what I am called to do – but right now I am discombobulated.