Growing up as the daughter of first-generation Greek immigrants meant growing up in a very Greek bubble. Before I was born, thousands of Greek immigrants settled in Sydney—and the biggest impact they brought with them was their Greek-ness! Our home—along with plenty others—had more trinkets and statues and tributes to the motherland than you could imagine. If something could be painted, bought, or displayed in blue and white colors, it was. Everything from iconic columns to painted porch furniture to flower pots saluted Greece.
Because my parents—and all their friends—came to Australia with no one to rely on but each other, they huddled together, firmly entrenched in the idea that there is safety in numbers. Even long after it was necessary. So, during my childhood, everywhere we went was an all-Greek affair—birthday parties, weddings, even church. Even if we went on a short holiday, it was with other Greek relatives. My parents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and neighbors stayed within this tight-knit Greek community as much as possible.
And it wasn’t because they didn’t speak English. My parents actually spoke five languages: Arabic, Greek, French, Italian, and English. They were brilliant people. They knew how to navigate modern society, but they chose to live in a small world of their own making.
For me and my brothers, all of this homogenous living was just the way it was. When non-Greek friends invited us over for dinner, to a slumber party, or to a high school dance, our parents rarely allowed us to go. They preferred that we stay in the setting where they felt safe and secure and in control of us. Truthfully, I think they expected us to carry on our Greek heritage as though the rest of Sydney’s cultural diversity and influence didn’t exist—but that wasn’t realistic or healthy.
My brothers and I were Greek, and we loved our Greek heritage, but we were Australians by birth. We wanted to explore our country and all it had to offer. I wanted to venture out and embrace a culture far beyond my own.
Sometimes, I think as Christians we behave similarly to my parents and their friends. We live in a Christian bubble, inside our Christian communities, inside our collective Christian friends—and we stay there. Perhaps, we even hide out there. We design what we think is heaven on earth—the perfect religious world—and we hunker down in hopes all will go well until we leave this planet. But Jesus has sent us out into the world to make disciples.
We can’t make His last commandment our first priority if we don’t break out of our bubble.
I understand that sometimes the bubble just happens. We get saved, we make Christian friends, we grow in Christ, and we naturally enjoy the camaraderie, safety, security, and comfort of our Christian community. But over time, we find ourselves trapped in the bubble, rarely interacting with people who don’t look, think, or believe like us. We don’t work out with them at the gym, or take them to lunch, or invite them to our homes. And yet, that’s exactly what Jesus tells us to do.
Jesus didn’t save us to build a Christian subculture. He didn’t save us to hide from the world, avoid the world, ignore the world, fear the world, hate the world, condemn the world, or judge the world. He sent us into the world to love the world He created and loves so tenderly and fiercely.
Excerpted from 20/20 by Christine Caine. Published by Lifeway Press®. © 2019. Used by permission.
In 20/20, a 7-session study, you’ll develop a new understanding of how God sees you and has chosen you to help make Jesus’ name known on this planet. Through biblical teaching and lessons from her own life, Christine will challenge you to share the story of how God’s love has transformed your life right where you are.
