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Something new has shown up in Japan’s groceries – square watermelons at $83 each. Plant breeders have developed a hybrid melon to save space in refrigerators. Now blocks of melons can be neatly tucked on the shelves around cartons, leaving nary an inch of wasted shelf space.

Looking at a photo of those melon marvels, I wondered how they felt being stacked together like, well, like milk cartons and butter boxes. Sort of unnatural, I thought. Melons weren’t made to be square. Then I wondered how some of our Asian, Latin American, and African converts feel when we squeeze them into our American molds.

One of the major struggles in the churches on these continents is how to be authentically African, Asian, and Latin American. Missionaries usually reproduce churches like those that sent them, not just in doctrine but also in practice. To use an old example, the early English missionaries in Africa built brick churches like those of their home parishes.

This issue goes beyond church architecture. It includes church music, worship styles, dress styles, preaching and teaching styles, and behavioral codes. It extends up the line to the curricula in church schools and theological seminaries. It encompasses leadership, management, and accounting styles. A missionary threw up his hands in frustration because “the nationals” (a word universally detested, by the way) didn’t know how to draw up budgets and keep their books properly.

One of Paul’s often-quoted injunctions warns us not to let the world squeeze us into its mold. Because the litany of making square watermelons is virtually endless, we could just as well take his principle and apply it to the churches we have established: “Don’t let the Americans squeeze you into their mold.”

We like neatly packaged churches, rather than higgledy-piggledy churches. We can’t stand services that run overtime, or permit interruptions. We demand strict schedules and strict accounting. I once watched an Arab bookshop keeper violate all the rules of American retailing. A customer came in and looked around. He invited him into his office and served him the obligatory tea. They chatted amiably for half an hour. Then he showed him some books and completed the sale.

What a waste of time, I thought. But then I corrected myself. No, it was not a waste of time. It was the proper Arab way of treating one’s customers. The bookshop owner had been to the U.S. His board had once invited him to study management principles. But he refused to become a square watermelon in an American refrigerator. He has done well.

One of the perils of sending Americans on work treks to other countries is the conflict between the way we do things and the ways the Chinese, Indians, Koreans, Kenyans, Ecuadorians, and Nigerians do things. Inexperienced U.S. work teams often plow ahead using what they think are their superior techniques. Sometimes they collide head-on, and the work stops until they understand what’s going on. I knew a missionary who deliberately planned delays in starting the project once the team arrived. Team members stewed and fumed. Then she told them this was not the U.S. and they better get used to it. They did.

We need to tell veterans and novices alike that no one wants to become a square watermelon in a foreigner’s refrigerator. We must allow people and churches to grow indigenously in their own soil. If we do, they are likely to bear more fruit than if we force them to do things our way.

July 20, 2001