Crystal Reitsma - Adventures In Missions -

comfort is relative

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I am too comfortable.

I walk into a grocery store and I can buy all the food that I've been wishing I had for the last four months. And for the eight months before that. It's too much.

I am sleeping in a cushy, full-size bed. Pillow top mattress. Pillows. No mosquito net. This is a long call from a thin airmattress on wooden boards, no pillow and a jaguar-proof mosquito net.

There is hot water at my beck and call, it even comes out of a spout that is OVER my head, and I don't have to pour it over myself with a cup. Out of a bucket. With water in it that hasn't been heated.

I can drink half a glass of water, then dump the rest down the drain. Not pour it back into the wash bucket to conserve water, 'cause it hasn't rained in a while. I can even drink the water out of the faucet. No boiling, no buying, no treating. All the water is drinkable. All of it. And dumpable. All of it.

The room in which I sleep is quiet. Real quiet. No roosters crowing. No bats fluttering around. No motocars straining to get up the hill outside the house, no rocks falling on the roof, no dogs barking, no cats fighting, no kids yelling and knocking on the door.

I am not sweating.

The woods outside smell like woods, leafy, pungent and clean. Not like breeding grounds for parasites, bacteria, spiders, snakes, and a trillion other insects that want to suck your blood.

People are wearing new clothes, clean clothes, and wearing shoes that look like they cost more than 5 soles. Or $1.88. Shoot they probably cost more than 150 soles. Or $53. They are driving cars with the windows rolled up and drinking coffee at the same time.

Last night I was driving the Big Black Truck that AIM is letting me use while I'm here. I think it's a Ford and I sit higher than almost all the SUV's on the road out there with me. The Truck has heat, air conditioning, a radio, power steering and probably sucks more gas than any other vehicle I've had in my life. Driving home at night, for the first time driving in almost a year, and there were few other vehicles on the road, the air coming in the vent was leafy and sweet, reminding me of bonfires, hikes, tricker-treating, and the-life-I-had-before. And I liked it. But not enough to even want to stay.

I feel oddly isolated. A bit too pristine. And out of place. Praise God Jesus is here and is the same yesterday, today, forever, in both North and South America and all around the world.

I miss the rotating door, the constant cumbia music, the walk to the market in the morning. I miss seeing people when I walk out of the door, neighbors and people going to and from work, miss speaking Spanish and miss knowing I'm where I'm supposed to be. Though for now, here is where I'm supposed to be. So I'll do my best to be here... but not get too comfortable.

jesus

Fri, 22 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

First day back is always hard... it's amazing how much better I feel today. Probably has something to do with Jesus. It usually does.

Isaiah 55:1-3

Come, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;
hear, that your soul may live;
and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
my steadfast, sure love for David.
Happy Friday. :)

useless

Thu, 21 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

There's something about feeling useless that I don't like.

Like last week when I was laid out with something that woke me in the middle of the night with a shaking fever, then a rotten headache all day where all my body wanted to do was sleep... and I would have been fine with that, except there were people in the house that I wanted to see and there's very little worse to me than lieing there knowing that someone else (hat would be Anita, a pastor's daughter from upriver who came to visit for 4 days) is washing my clothes, my dishes and that there are youth meetings happening that I really want to be a part of but my stupid body just won't cooperate. So I laid there in my bed, tired of resting (good thing I don't get sick often, I'd be miserable to be around I'm sure) and feeling absolutely useless. My friend Cesar says that this is good (I think I've told others this before too) because in truth we are useless and entirely dependent on God and we are closer to Him when we are able to realize this truth. But the truth of this wasn't sinking into my heart... I didn't feel closer to God, just useless.

Another thing that I don't like is feeling alone when there's a bunch of people around... I think that in Peru I had forgotten what that felt like for a while since God sent Chris in January - a good friend a great listener. And to be honest, feeling alone with others around makes me feel useless (chances are my identity is too caught up in what I DO, but what to DO about that? :))... and so here back in the states, day one, I'm back to square one where I was one week ago in my bed in Nauta, but without the good excuse of being sick. Soooo... what am I to learn from this? Maybe it's just re-entry blues that will go away in a few days, or maybe it's an identity issue... or maybe I just haven't gotten enough sleep in the last week to process anything. My comfort is to know that God is God and that He is good - here, there, and even in Haiti right now (talk about feeling useless here). Lord have mercy and save us from ourselves. I love that when Jesus left, He left His peace with us which passes all understanding, all circumstances and even our own ridiculous flesh. Grace to you all.

But in Everything...

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 00:00:00 GMT

    "Father, I accept it. Thank you. Thank you for taking my son. I know he was suffering. I accept it Father. Thank you."

    Today is Thanksgiving, and these were the very first words of gratitude that I heard. They came from my neighbor Lisbeth, between sobs of anguish. Her nephews, 4 yr-old Mickey and 3 yr-old Andy came to my door this morning to let me know: "Herman! Jair se ha muerto!" Her 15 month old son, her only son, died this morning after a two month battle with dysentery. We'd been to the hospital three times in the last two weeks. Twice for an IV. We'd been to the pharmacy for loads of medications... but he couldn't eat anymore and this morning he's gone. And she's giving thanks. Numerous people had been in their house to pray for him... we cry out to a God who can raise people from the dead, right? But in the end, there is still death in the world, and who's to blame? So many accusations to be made between her and her young husband. She should have taken him to the hospital sooner, she shouldn't have taken him to a curandero (or witch doctor), he should have worked harder so they would have had better medicine, ... I should have gone over this morning instead of doing my quiet time - didn't I think about it? The family should have been more supportive... but all of this is meaningless now, and does nothing to help those who are suffering. And she gives thanks to God.

    My heart breaks for them, and I am confronted by my endless ability to be self-centered, self-pitying, lamenting the loss of "things" that pale in comparison with the value of a human life. Yesterday I was sure that my camera had been taken from the house. Two weeks ago, something else of sentimental and physical value had disappeared, and yesterday I was saddened all day to think that someone I trust had probably taken my camera too - right from my house. Turns out it was in a pocket of my backpack where Isa had returned it without my knowledge... but I spent the day heavy-hearted, grieving its loss. "In everything ....give thanks," says the word in Philippians 4. Did I think to thank God in the midst of my worry? Not to the extent that Lisbeth did this morning. I was resigned and thinking to look for ways to be grateful to God - but still too miserable to actually do so.

    So much of what we have isn't "ours." Ok, so everything we have isn't "ours." Not ours to hang on to as a right at least. Not my camera. Not my friendships. Not my space or my time. Not sons or daughters, husbands, wives, houses, jobs... not even my life.   But holding things loosely and letting go isn't effortless - and with gratitude at that. So this morning I think of all the things, friends and loved ones that I have - and I am grateful. And I think of all the things I feel I'm lacking, things God has taken away or hasn't chosen to set before me yet, ...and I choose gratitude. My neighbors with five young kids to my right eat once a day (no breakfast, no supper - just lunch, sometimes not until 4 in the afternoon). The neighbors to my left live the same way most days - a widowed grandmother raising three young grandkids, with two sons still in the house (not the fathers of the grandkids). And they are grateful. What on earth am I trying to hang on to?

    Across the street, little Jair Jafeth is wrapped in white, laying on a table with four candles on each corner. Back in the states today I know millions are eating well, maybe even too well, surrounded by a good family, good hospitals, and clean water. But I also know that even in the states there are those who don't have one or more of those things. I find my peace today in the knowledge that nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. And the promise that "I am my beloved's and He is mine," (SOS 2:16) runs through my heart. The one "thing" that no power, circumstance or person can take away from me. And I'll probably spend a good part of the day and the night of this Thanksgiving sitting with Lisbeth across the street as is custom here...

    What are you grateful for today?

Dirt, Doors and Treasures in Heaven

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

    Well I've been back in Nauta for a week now from Lima and the states, and it has taken me by surprise in some ways. First of all, I was glad to be back. I was (rationally) afraid that if I went back home to the states that I wouldn't want to leave again, and even now it brings tears to my eyes to think of my Gram in her mentally weakened state, and not know if I'll see her again this side of heaven. The time with her, my Mom, Dad, sister and her family was a rich and sweet sweet blessing. And part of me now doesn't even want to call them, for it makes me miss them even more. But I did come back, and there were places in my heart that were glad to be back, not only in Lima, but in Nauta - even irrationally. This is indeed where I am to be. It was so very good to see the kids again - as soon as I got in I put my luggage down and we traipsed over to the "ministerio" to play a short game of soccer in the heat of the afternoon. Some kids were as openly delighted to see me as I to see them, others wouldn't even turn look at me when I first saw them (Patrick and Omar), but then came around later to get a hug, chat and came to the kids club service in my home that next Monday.
    I came back to find my house in one piece, though quite dirty. Nothing had been stolen or broken, except the back door, which I am extremely thankful to Cesar for repairing when I didn't even know where to start. Even as a single gal in the jungle, God provides what I am lacking. The house is big and quiet without Chris or the other gals here, but last night it was filled to the brim with neighboring kids as Jovita and I made and decorated cakes for the pastor's wife and son's birthdays.   I've been out visiting twice since coming back, and haven't taught in the church once - both of which I'm grateful for for different reasons. I was a bit burned out on teaching in a pastoral setting - not my strength, nor my long-term purpose here. On Tuesday I got to see Neima, who we met last year (2008) when we found out her daughter had died in a playing accident, and she had almost lost her prenatal baby due to the shock. She named her newborn son Bryan, after my last year co-leader and he is big and fat now, with big eyes and a bright smile. She is leaving this Saturday for Lima to meet up with her husband who is working there. If I hadn't gone this week, I would have missed her - and I had the chance to share the grace of Christ with her brother-in-law and to pray with them before they left. Thursday I saw Mayquel's family, if you remember the young man who accepted Christ earlier this year, and talk a bit to his Mom who has been out of the church since she was 16 or17 and met up with Mayquel's father.
    Pastor William and his wife Clementina and I have covenanted to meet together twice a week to pray for one another, for the institute plans, and for the other pastors and churches here in Nauta. There is a large event happening at the end of this month called Explosion, put on by YWAM from Columbia, and the church has been slow to mobilize. There were only 5 of the 20+ churches represented at the first pastors meeting I attended on Wednesday, but this morning (Friday) there was a early-morning fast for the churches starting at 6am, and a much better turn out, with a gentle but direct and honest message about unity by one of the young pastors here in town, and a good spirit of willingness on the parts of those attending. Please continue to pray for growing love and unity among the pastors. It breaks my heart to see Christ's beautiful body so at odds and divided.
    One thing I fear in confronting here is the message of a prosperity gospel. That spiritual maturity and earthly goods somehow go hand in hand, that material blessing is a sign of approval from God and that poverty is a curse of sinfulness as well as a diabolic imposition of the Catholic church are attitudes that I am constantly encountering in this not-rich place. How do I, poor according to American standards, but lavishly wealthy according to Nautinian standards (the average professional pay rate here is 1000 soles/month, or 330$/month), bring the truth that I see in the gospel, that Christ alone is to be our treasure, our eyes and hearts set on something far more lasting and less physically tangible to our 5 senses here on earth? I am convicted of my own hypocrisy, wanting to hang on to my safety and my chance at comforts (how will I get back home if I don't have enough for airfare saved?) while others aren't sure if they'll have enough for food for the coming day. I cannot very well tell anyone that "blessed are the poor," while I hang tight to my riches. Please pray for discernment in the multitude of requests that come my way - I recognize that creating dependency and not self-realization is a grave error too - and for a generous heart after the heart of God. I feel that I fail more often than I succeed at following Christ well (today was fraught with examples) and am constantly reminded of His incontrovertible and ever-captivating grace.

broken bread and poured out wine

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 00:00:00 GMT

After posting yesterday, I read Oswald Chambers today.

Can you be a prophet even if you're dead?

Amazing.

loving and being loved

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Why am I so much more concerned about God taking care of me than I am about being broken bread and poured out wine? After being on the mission field (leaving it all, right?) for some time now, I have seen great evidences of God's love and personal care in my life. Case in point: I am home with my Gram right now - an answer to the prayers of three generations of Christ-lovers that couldn't have been planned better had I tried. And I didn't. Grammy, when she saw me, said that I was an answer to her prayers - she has been going through a very hard time, withdrawing from sleeping medication, very anxious and in a dark joyless place. Five days ago, my other Grandma died, so Mom is in Wyoming with my Dad (where she belongs) for his mother's funeral, and the only way that she could be there is if I were here, with Grammy around the clock. And I am. I, for my part, was desperate to come home, aching for the familiarity and unconditional love of my parents, and every time I prayed, wanting to escape the futility and easily-resistible effort of getting a Peruvian visa, I heard a small voice say "go home." Home didn't seem like it should be an option, but when I found the $383 base fare, Lima - Boston, round-trip, it suddenly became one. So here I am, amazed by God's love and care in my life, my Mom's life and my Gram's life all at the same time.

Yet as I was reading Yancey's book "The Jesus I Never Knew" yesterday, and even Edward's "The Divine Romance," their thoughts confirmed some of mine that have been niggling at my mind for over the last year: it strikes me that our goal isn't just to be loved by God - it is to love God back, passionately and with abandon. Christ's purpose in coming was not just to save us and make us happy, wealthy and wise. It would seem that when he left , he intended it to be a multiplication process: we are to be his very body here on this earth, to be "Jesus" in so many more places than he could be were he here in person still. If His heart was to listen to the Father in everything, to heal the sick, to love the poor, to reach out to the oppressed and downtrodden, to set the captives free, to lay his life down each day for others, to show the principalities and powers of this world, the traditions of men for the self-interested (and even violent) bullies that they are ... then should not our heart beat to do the very same? To have Christ himself made manifest in our very bodies, words heart and actions? It would seem that His kingdom is not one based on politics, programs or ritualistic duties, but rather an up-side down, subversive kind of living where individuals are loved regardless of their past, truth is spoken without weighing the consequences to yourself and everyone is treated with respect, forgiveness and grace - even as they crucify you.

After five years on the "mission field," I have seen Christ represented well, and represented poorly by those around me. I have seen brothers snubbed by brothers, sisters hurt and even abused by those who would call themselves "spiritual authorities." I have also seen the poor housed, the sick healed and brothers and sisters walking in freedom they didn't think possible. I have been lied to and slandered some of the time. I have also learned (some of the time)to proclaim the Truth to myself and walk in forgiveness. I have been sick, exhausted, out of a home and lived out of a backpack for long stretches of time. But never have I lacked a place to lay my head, food on a table, or clothes on my back - not even money in the bank. When confronted with un-grace and downright destructive actions around me, I have been told to take a break, to treat myself, to seek times of refreshing. I have been told to insist on my rights, and make my needs known... but if Christ is to be formed in me, and my hope is to be more like Him, then I have to admit that nowhere in the gospels do I see Jesus choosing himself over others. Even when he tried to retreat and people followed, he still loved them first. I guess I'm having a hard time with the seeming contradictions between the advice to "lose your life in order to gain everything," to "deny yourself, take up your cross and follow..." and "withhold from serving them, because they don't deserve it," or "don't let people walk all over you." It also seems painfully clear to me that if we took better care of one another, we wouldn't have to take such painstaking care of ourselves. May God have mercy on us all.

So, here I am, in beautiful Maine with only one day left to breathe the fresh piney air, hear the breeze rustle through the autumn-hued leaves, take hot showers, put my clothes in a washing machine, hear the sweet hum of non-blood-sucking insects outside... and see my family face to face that I love oh-so-very-very-dearly. God knew that I (and my Gram, and my mom and Dad) needed this, and He (only He!) provided. On Thursday morning at 6am I leave Boston airport to head back south, toward breathtaking combinations of humidity and heat, needs that I can't meet both financially and emotionally, long days and short nights. Back to brown children whom I love. Back to towering cloudy skies and starry nights. Back to an aching hunger for community, and great feelings of inadequacy. I am left without answers to so many of my questions, but I do know that God is always faithful. It is my heart's cry that I will learn to love Him, to love others just as He loves (though I am petty) and loves (though I am whiny) and keeps on loving (though I am broken) ...me. May we all be able to receive that in-exhaustible, unconditional and incomparable love of His for us today.

Consumerism

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Today I am struck by the thought (due to the conglomeration of many different events and impressions) that there is no good excuse or situation for treating people as commodities... no matter if it is for labor as an employee, services rendered (as in a restaurant), or the even stickier and harder to define commodities of friendship and relationship.

I think one of the most disappointing feelings is realizing that what I thought was friendship, was really just a commodity to someone else... that I was appreciated for what I represented, for what I was seen to have to offer and for the future potential imagined by the consumer. No one wants to be something to someone, earning the "love" that is given. We would much rather be someone, and loved just because. Period. But then after further reflection, I realized that I am guilty of the same... to the motocar drivers, to the waitress at the restaurant, ... to people who work in the office, and even at certain times to friends. God has a great method for revealing the beam in my eye as I glimpse the speck in my brother's.

When we see people for what they can give us, for what we can get from the relationship, or even more insidious, for what we think they "owe" us because of what we have done for them, they become less than people to us, turning into something for us to consume. It is the principle that slavery and sweat shops are based on. The excuse for rudeness and theft. It is how the child sex trade prospers and what movie stars are made of.

I am convinced that Jesus never once saw a person as a thing that could serve him in any way, but saw each individual as just that... a unique and invaluable person an irreplaceable rendering of the image of His Father. How did Jesus view people as people all day, every day? Even those who did him an injustice? I'm not sure, but I would indeed like to grow in that kind of perspective and love.

And then after this thought today, there was the small and terrible question that followed: Do I view God as a commodity? Eeek. Am I truly in love with Jesus and loving him, or am I merely in love with the thought of being in love with him... prostituting what he's given me to others for my own personal gain and benefit? How amazing is His grace truly, that would save a wretch like me.

The Other Side of the Coin

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I'm still pondering why people and relationships cannot and should not function on the capitalistic laws of supply and demand... and I had a small (and ongoing) epiphany: the other side to viewing people as consumer products is that it of necessity predicates that we view ourselves the same way. If we see others for what they can offer us, then surely we are valued only for what we can offer them. Intellectually, I know Jesus broke down the walls to this errant way of seeing things, this impossible cycle of earned love. But in my heart I still don't believe it.

I so desperately want to earn someone's love - for them to see my "credentials" - the people that I know, those that love me, the good works that I have done and that I do; I want them to see the sacrifices that I've made... I want their pity, their admiration, their respect - their unconditional love based on what I have done.

The only flaw in this all-too pervasive approach to relating is that if love can be earned, it can also be un-earned... so we are always caught up in the tension of trying not to fall from grace, of putting our best foot forward, and of trying to repress who we really are, what we really feel so as not to lose our so arduously gained grace.

Again, the unavoidable truth is that we view others through the lenses with which we also view ourselves. The one who condemns most viciously is indeed most likely feeling the danger and imminence of condemnation. The manipulator is forever fearing and guarding against being manipulated. ... To the pure, all things are pure.

So - how to take off all the disguises and masks, and discard the intentions of the efforts? Integrity in being and doing, no hypocrisy - no walking around needing to look like someone that we're not? Save me, Jesus from this body of sin and death... because I can feel the death working in me as I try and try to do the impossible - to merit un-earnable grace.

moving mountains

Mon, 29 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Just a short update on goings on here in Nauta.

First of all - huge praise! Who said that God can't move mountains? This last Monday night twelve pastors from here in Nauta got together to pray - and to seek unity in the Body here. There were confessions of prejudices against one another, ...and forgiveness! The new pastor of a church that split back in April apologized to the former pastor for the way he was treated - I was incredulously suprised! So, for those who have been praying with me for unity in the church here in Nauta - THANK YOU! and God is obviously listening and moving. It gave me goosebumps and my eyes were almost watering hearing about their reunion. Do keep praying that they will continue in the same Spirit, submitting to one another in love and lifting one another up instead of tearing one another down - even if there are disagreements on practice of worship, dress and activities.

The girls/ladies discipleship group is going well, but with about half the number that signed up for it - there are about seven regulars. This last Thursday, I also had the pleasure of meeting with Carlos and his sister Vasti for the study in IJohn. We've met together twice now, and both times have been good, with good questions on their part and lots to think about. We are going to move the study to Saturday morning in hopes of attracting more people.

Today I also started teaching in one of the local High Schools. I had forgotten how much I like to teach - and how hard it is too. I am excited about the door into the lives of the youth here, and concerned that I don't loose sight of what is important to the vision that God has for the town - or over-commit myself between the mission, the school and the church. Do pray for wisdom, and especially for sweet intimacy with Jesus in these continued days of change and possible busyness.

Thank you again so much for your prayers. We serve a mighty God who lives, hears ... and answers.

Unity and Inadequacy

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Last Wednesday was the first meeting of the ladies discipleship group, which went well enough (praise God), but the way I saw God most that day had little to do with the evening group. We were to meet that evening at Bella's house, a 14 yr old girl who is the only believer in her family. I was rushing back to Nauta that day from celebrating the birthday of a good friend in Iquitos, much later than I wanted to be. When I got in the car going to Nauta, the girl in the front seat asked if I were a Christian, and it turned out that she was Bella's sister, Melissa. To make a long story much shorter, we found out on that ride that her brother had been in an accident on the same highway earlier that day. She was understandably distraught at the news (we stopped to see the scene), and I was able to pray with her in the car, then when we arrived in Nauta, to bring the pastors to pray with her family. We helped send her back to Iquitos where her brother was in the hospital. Later that night when we were meeting at Bella's house, we received news that her brother was fine - just some stitches on his head, and a few scrapes, but ok. Praise God for making me late, and do pray that God will use the love that she saw in the body of Christ to draw her and her family to Himself.

One of my constant prayers here is for unity in the body of believers in Nauta, especially among the pastors and various churches here. I know it will take a supernatural move of God for this to happen (think of the churches in your area!), but I also know that nothing is impossible for our God. This last Spring there was a split in the church with which we've worked in Nauta. Since then, there has been no communication between the new pastor of the old church, one of the families who stayed with that church and the former pastor who now has a new church. This last week I went to visit that family whose daughter, Mallumy, was very active in the youth group. It was a great visit, and she and her sister came the next day to see me. We spent good time together talking and praying, then on the way home I got to meet their new pastor, as well as the pastor of another church in Nauta. The next night Mallumy and her sister stopped in the church to say "hi" for the first time to their old friends. Also, that same evening, a member of the youth from another church in town stopped in and invited me to come to their church some Saturday for a youth service. I would love to see the three churches' youths get together for a time of worship, prayer and fellowship with one another for the mutual building up of the body - and may the Lord's prayer for unity in His body (John 17) start to be realized!

Another way I have been privileged to see God work this week was in answer to prayers of our team which was there in July. I went out one afternoon to visit some people that we had met this Summer - one older lady named Tina who had been sick with fever, stomach and joint pains for a month when we met her (malaria, she thought?), and a young girl named Kaisi who had anemia and asthmatic signs. We had prayed for both of them, and trusted God to answer. When I found Tina, she was sitting in her house looking very happy and well. Since we had prayed for her the pain and fever were all gone, she said. Now if I can only find a pair of glasses for her, so she can get around better... :) Next I stopped at Kaisi's house and Silda her sister was there with her very happy baby Billy. Kaisi was playing outiside and helping her father clean up the sod in their yard. "All better!" said Silda - and you could tell there was a healthy, happy six-year-old working hard with her Dad :). How good is our God!

Thursday morning I started the investigative Bible study on I John, and there were three people there - none of whom go to church at the present. It went well enough too, and my friend Carlos offered his home for the weeks to come. We'll be meeting there again this Thursday - do keep this group in your prayers, I know God can and will do big things, but at the same time, I don't feel either trained or wise in leading this group.

To be very sincere, in all areas of the ministry in Nauta, I feel wholly inadequate. In the discipleship group there are many very young Christians who need a lot of attention, and one-on-one would be best. There are hundreds of children in Nauta who are hungry for love and attention and desire to hear about God. There are people asking for English lessons almost every day. There are many young men and women who want to go into minisry but lack discipleship, training and structure. There is a need for marriage counseling in the churches, pastoral training and encouragement, training in music and worship, ... and thousands here in this small town who don't know the transforming love and grace of God in Christ. There are over ten evangelical churches in Nauta with many resources between them if they pooled them, but not much of a desire yet to work together. I often feel overwhelmed and just plain inadequate. Please pray with me that God would send co-laborers: humble and godly men and women with specific talents and abilities in the body, capable of ministering as well as teaching and training others.

Gone to Nauta

Tue, 9 Sep 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Here's my quick update on Nauta and The Big Move. After searching for two days, praying and seeking wisdom, I decided against renting a house that I would have to repair in favor of renting a room that I DON'T... and looking to buy a house and/or land where the investment would be mine to keep eventually. It is still utterly strange to me that the first place that I would ever buy land or a house would be in Nauta, Peru - but that seems to be the gist of it for now.

I'm renting and living in a small cozy room on the second block of a dirt street called, appropriately enough, Amazonas. The quinta (a place that rents out rooms) is right in the middle of the block on the left hand side, about half-way up the hill that forms the second block of the street. You recognize the quinta because it's one of the few cement block buildings on the street and is painted a lovely bright blue. When you go in the door to the rentals, you enter a long rather dark hall and all the rooms are on the right. Mine is the fourth one down, and locks with a padlock like all the rest. When you walk in, the bathroom is on the left - a bare toilet, a large water bin, and a sink that drains but doesn't run water. The bed is along the right-hand wall, about two large-ish steps from the door with a straw mattress, there is a small table opposite the bed on the left wall with my two-burner gas stove on it, and soon there will be a set of shelves on the far wall between the bed and the table where I can store all my "stuff."

After praying and talking to the pastor and his wife, we fit me into the church program with room to grow in ministries on the side. On Wednesday nights I start a discipleship group with the ladies of the church (oh, do pray for me in that! Tomorrow night's the first one...), and on Thursday mornings I'm starting an investigative Bible study on IJohn (ditto there too!). The first week I was there in Nauta, I spoke in the church three times at the request of the pastor - the Tuesday night service, the Saturday youth service and Sunday morning. This is not something I'm used to nor necessarily with which, as a woman, I am comfortable - but I do enjoy teaching the Word, as long as God is leading and gives me something to teach.

I'm hoping to get a rhythm going during the week where I can spend time visiting people in the community, time getting ready for the training center (whatever that might look like), time playing with the kids, time for discipleship of the ladies in the study group, time in study, and of course, time in prayer and in fellowship with Christ :). Again, I so covet and am grateful for your prayers in this time of transition and all things new. There IS internet in Nauta, however unreliable, slower and slightly more costly that it may be - and I love hearing from you.

balance

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Something with which I'm becoming increasingly uncomfortable is the tendency of people to exalt missionaries and put us on a pedestal that to the very best of my knowledge is unmerited. I definitely don't feel any "better" or even any closer to God than I did five years ago before I went on the mission field. If anything, I see my own foibles and weaknesses more clearly now and recognize my desperate need for Christ's life to be pre-eminent in mine. How many times have I arrived at a service and had the pastor look at me in relief, announcing to his congregation "and now we ask our sister to bring us a word from the Lord." It makes me uncomfortable for two reasons: first, I don't like that they may subconsciously (or even consciously) believe white foreign missionaries to be superior to themselves. And second, I don't like that it tempts me to believe the same. Jeremiah 17:9 - if only they knew my heart as well as I do. Beyond that, I don't always have a "word from the Lord."

Where is the balance between loving God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength, being ready in season and out of season, and not being party to the creation of an unhealthy dependence that would seem to push the Holy Spirit aside in favor of a word from me or another missionary present?

Kenya to Mexico

Fri, 7 Apr 2006 00:00:00 GMT

It's been a week since I've been back from Kenya now or more? Time is a bit crazy, as is my life right now. So much is up in the air, I feel like a trapeze artist. Life keeps going on, though.

The day after I came back, I was walking with my friend Becky, de-compressing, and we saw a blind man struggling to make his way down the road with a bag and a guitar. My first thoughts were quite uncharitable. "Probably just pretendingI bet he's trying to break into someone's house." Every time he came to a gate, he would shake it. Becky was a bit more Christian. "Maybe we should see where he's going?" We stopped and asked him, and he was trying to find the hospital two blocks away where his son was. Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves in the room of a 24yr old man who was in the last stages of AIDS. We were able to pray with him, and then took his father downtown where he plays the guitar for money. It was heartbreaking. You never know what's going to happen when you walk out the door. I'm going to try to go back this afternoon to the hospital to see how his son is - pray for Fermn, please. ( Sat...I just came back from the hospital and Fermin is in a coma, they don't think he'll be here much longer).

I've been told that the time of paring has come. I'm going through my "stuff" and keeping only the necessities. But what those are, I do not know. Pictures? The quilt my mom made me? Books? Clothes? You can always buy more clothes, eh? Is a pillow a necessity? How about gifts others have given you? Is one more righteous the less goods one has? lol God knows that is not so, but it does make travel much easier. And how does one go about saying "goodbye" to family and friends again? I don't like it, not one bit. At least I have a few more months left...?

The FYMers come back today from their sallies out on projects. The last church was a mega church from Atlanta, GA, with a youth group of 300 that came down, and I'm sure not all the youth could come, either. I'll be glad to have the students back, and they are glad to come back too, I'm sure. A bit of order and their own beds to sleep in will be nice, although it means I'm back to Spanish classes, cooking meals, writing devos and managing drama. ( Sat...it's not nice to play pranks on people who are low on sleep and high on stress...:( hindsight is 20/20 as they say.)

So, until next timeGod is good, even when we can't see around the corners

PS. If you get the chance, see the documentary "Invisible Children," it's worth your time.

Mexico to Kenya

Sun, 26 Mar 2006 00:00:00 GMT

It's 9:00pm in Nairobi, which means it's 1:00 in the afternoon back in Mexico, people are just getting home from church. Kibera is strangely quiet at night for over 1,000,000 people. There are no roosters here to keep one awake at night, but the constant trips to the choo (loo) seem to do that just fine. If in Mexico it's Montezuma's revenge, what is it in Kenya? It seems that wazungu (white people) get revenge taken on them somehow almost everywhere in the world that was subject to colonization. I didn't realize that Kenya became an independent country just 43 years ago - there are still people that remember the struggle for independence.

Here in Kibera, the largest slum in Africa, Muslims, Christians, the odd sects and the non-religious live together in peace, the common enemy being the thugs (gangsters) that run the streets at night. I have been feeding my biggest obsession here, trying to learn as much Swahili as possible. Who wouldn't want to learn new languages? (The obsession was awakened on the plane here, sitting next to a lady from Belarus that knew Russian and Germanbetween her German and mine, we communicated hilariously well.) Necessary Swahili words? Hapana - no . Asante sana- thank you very much and Pole sana, sisemi Kiswahili - I'm very sorry, I don't speak Swahili . Mungu ni mjema. God is good.

So Africa. I don't even know where to start. The first day I was here, a guard named Jackson came by in the morning to inform Allie of why he couldn't come to work. He had been keeping watch over an orphanage here in Kibera and some thugs didn't appreciate his presence in the neighborhood, so they beat him with pipes and machetes. We prayed for him, and Allie sent him home to rest with some pain med. That afternoon I met a beautiful muslim girl named Aradha, a friend of Allie's, and a lovely Christian lady named Consolata. Both run small general-goods stores, trying to supplement their family's tiny income. The next day I held now-happy babies at another orphanage in town, most had been abandoned and/or stricken with AIDS.

My senses are assailed in so many ways every day. Stunning clouds, strange trees, myriads of flowers, ragged street boys (playing soccer with a new ball provided by the team here), a haunting call to prayer from a near mosque in the early morning, the acrid odor of sewage and of piles of garbage as I walk down the railway through the middle of the slum. There are streams of people, some with vacant eyes, some leering, some with burdens on head-top, men holding hands (common and acceptable), uniformed school boys and school girls (separate, of course) that shout " Mzungu! How are you? How are you? How are you?" as we pass. One of my favorite scenes so far has been when Joe, a FYM, took a school girl's jump rope during recess (held on our street) and jumped to the screams of laughter of the 60-some girls there.

Friday Allie and I accompanied some friends of hers to Nakuru, a 3 hour drive from here to experience Safari. Our driver, also named Jackson, is a 29 year-old Massai who was extremely informative as to landmarks, culture and safe driving techniques. His father practiced polygamy, he himself hasn't paid dowry for his wife yet, and he knows 7 languages. We saw the Rift Valley from heights of sublime splendor, saw many zebra (after the 4^th sighting, the novelty wears off), a lake full of flamingos, grazing water buffalo, warthogs, rhinos, and impala but sadly no simba (lions) or twigga (giraffes).

Tomorrow? Tomorrow I have the privilege of teaching on Acts, taking a walking tour of Kibera with pastor Timothy, an ardent evangelist from what I understand, making Chipoti (sorta like a tortilla) with Consolata, then off to dinner with the family we accompanied to Nakuru.

If you pray for me today, pray also for Kenya that the people will see the glory of the Lord, that Kibera will come truly to life as it is found in Christ alone, and that the change of hearts will see the beginning of the end of corruption, the end of tribal suspicion and separatism as the people are united in one Spirit.

Saint Patricks Day?

Fri, 17 Mar 2006 00:00:00 GMT

Here in Mexico the wind is cool and the sun is hot. This morning Celia, a lady whose son has a benign tumor at the base of his throat came by to share the results of his MRI with me. It seems that the tumor is not into the bone (praise God!) and she was going to Ciudad Victoria next week to see where to go from here. Last Sunday she brought her son Fidel by for us to pray for him. 6 years old, big brown eyes, and nervous. "Does prayer hurt?" I could imagine him asking himself. They don't go to church anywhere and Celia says she believes in God, but is not ready to give her life over to Christ -- though it is painfully obvious to her that she can't control her son's health. I pray that she and her family will see a result that can only be attributed to God, that they may know that not only is he real, but that he longs to be known by his creation not just known about.

Today my soul is set to vibrate on "high." Life has been unbearably beautiful lately: in the sun straining to pierce a murky sky, friends coming and leaving, God drawing my eyes to small gifts of yellow flowers on bare trees and Spring is seen if not felt. Red, fuchsia, orange, and white burst out of the ends of branches and there's something in the air that reminds me of the last day of school. Tomorrow I leave for Kenya, a two day trip that pulls me through Amsterdam and deposits me in equatorial eastern Africa. My stomach is aflutter with the mystery of what lies around the corner, and the adventure of a life with Christ.

Lately God has been teaching me about waiting. His timing is always perfect, and though we, seeing the goal, want to dive in, God is more about the process sometimes than we realize. Fruit does not ripen and mature overnight, and picked unripe, never attains the sweetness that it would if one had waited. So, even though I get on a plane tomorrow, I will live in the moment today and go visit my friend Sofia. I love to see her face light up as she tells me about the latest escapades of her son Andres.