Under Pressure -- Part 2

You may have heard that I have a love, love relationship with my pressure cookers -- now I have two of them!  The other day, Chris and I were having a conversation with someone, trying to explain what it's like living in another culture.  So, I'll share with you.  Most of this analogy is all Chris.  So, you can tell him how good it was next time you see him.

In America, we love our slow cookers.  Everything in the crockpot, let it simmer all day, and by evening the delicious smell when you open your front door is almost as good as that first bite.  Now, here in India, electricity is sketchy, but gas is more reliable.  So, they use pressure cookers to accomplish the same thing.  But, what you can do in 6 hours in the slow cooker takes about 30-40 minutes under pressure.  Why?  Because the heat and steam that builds up in your yummy crockpot recipe seeps out and escapes through gaps in the lid of the slow cooker throughout the day.  Then, the crockpot can maintain that slow, low-heat simmer.  Not a pressure cooker.  Every inch is sealed tightly with steel and rubber -- except for the weighted whistle on top.  So, the heat and steam get trapped inside and bubble and boil and bubble and boil until it comes whooshing out full force from the whistle.  Many people tell me that they are afraid of pressure cookers.  That noise can be a bit alarming the first few times -- my children still don't like being in the kitchen when I'm using one.  Also, there is the chance that if a bit of rice gets lodged in the whistle or it doesn't work properly for some reason, that puppy will explode!  Yep, KaBOOM!  And, yes, that is pretty dangerous.

Still, if you are careful to clean your cooker and use it in the right way, this should never happen.  Again, I love mine.  It's a perfect tool for my Indian kitchen -- complete with power outages.  I will want one in any kitchen I have from this moment forward.

So, what does this have to do with culture stress?  Okay, here we go.  Living in America, there are stresses.  Lots of them.  I don't particularly like living there -- culture-wise.  But, when stresses hit, I had plenty of places for the steam to escape.  I had my familiar routines.  I had my creature comforts that I didn't realize were luxuries.  I had my supportive friends and family around me.  I knew my way around.  I could speak the language.  I had familiar coping mechanisms.  I knew how to read people and relate to people in my culture.  There were gaps in the lid.  Steam and heat escaped without me even realizing it much.  I was kept at a low simmer and started to think I was pretty put together.

Enter the pressure cooker.  We get to India.  Moving to India didn't make me a Saint.  Moving to India made me a Sinner in a new environment.  The stresses started.  New ones.  Different ones.  I didn't have my familiar methods for coping.  I didn't have my familiar confidants and quiet corners for processing.  I didn't have any escape mechanisms.  The heat and steam got intense fast.  Now, there is a whistle.  Only One.  Chris is not my whistle.  My own strength is not my whistle.  A more seasoned cross-cultural worker, a self-help book, a vacation; none of these things will work.  Only God -- because of His grace and love for me -- can be my whistle.  When my relationship with Him gets clouded, if I forget that it's Jesus' death and resurrection and not my wisdom and goodness, when I lean on someone else for my worth, then POW!  KaBOOM!  I explode.  It's ugly.  It's messy.  It can hurt those closest to me.  Now, if I go to God, let Him release that pressure, let Him keep me centered, I may still be bubbling and boiling pretty hard underneath, but there's something good and tasty being made.  The aroma of my life can be pleasing -- not dangerous.

So, thanks, Chris, for this idea.  And thanks also for the new pressure cooker.  We'll have some rice and beans tonight!