An Unspoken Love

It has been over three weeks since I returned home and I still don’t think I have been able to comprehend the week I spent in Guatemala. I have now tried a couple times to write out my experience and have yet to succeed, due to my inability to write my experience in one page, but alas I shall try again.

After a long day of traveling, we arrived late into Guatemala City where we were taken to a mission house and had a briefing session on what the next couple days would look like. That night I also had a chance to chat with some of the Guatemalan Champions staff about the zones these kids were coming from. Some of the boys came from zones that were unsafe to enter into during the day; in order to enter you have to have special permission from the controlling gang of that zone otherwise you will likely be killed. Every zone that these kids came from is controlled by a gang, where drugs, sex and violence are abundant.

When we arrived at the church bright and early, 6 am, to check in the boys I knew I would be in for an interesting week. I hadn’t played soccer in about 10 years and didn’t speak any Spanish. We loaded the boys’ bags into the busses, an act we saw as a security issue but they saw as a privilege, and headed out on the 4 hour bus ride. Once we all finally arrived at the beautiful El Faro we unloaded the bags and waited to find out which group we would be working with for the week. I, along with 3 other Americans, was part of groupo siete (group 7). This group was made up of 10 boys, ages 12 to 15, from zone 18, the biggest and most dangerous zone in Guatemala City, and two amazing mentors. When we arrived at the table they were all very quiet, anticipating what the week would look like. From the moment I sat down and tried to talk with them, again, I knew it was going to be a long week especially if I wasn’t able to talk with them.

The first couple days I found myself very frustrated because I couldn’t communicate with the boys, I didn’t know anything about them, their families, what they liked to do, where they were from, nothing. As the week went by, I found myself praying that God would give me a supernatural understanding of Spanish and that I would find some way to communicate with these boys. God answered that prayer, by the end of the week I was able to talk with the boys on a level, a very simple level but none the less a level, that I never would have imagined when I arrived. One of the boys, Mario served as my tutor; I would say something and then look to him for affirmation and he would correct my Spanish when necessary.

As the days went by the boys began to become more comfortable in our group, we played games that didn’t require speaking. Early on we put an empty water bottle on the table and all hit the table at once to see how high we could get the water bottle to go, no words, just smiles and laughter, and we were doing it together. And then there were the soccer games. The first soccer game we played and won I was jumping up and down screaming as if we had just won the world cup; no deep conversations, but my actions showed them that I cared.

One of my favorite nights was the last night. It started off like any good night should, with a dance battle. For those of you who know me, you know I love to dance and I love dance battles even more! One of my boys, Gilmar, represented groupo siete with his crazy back flips off the stage and break dancing moves, I was amazed and so proud.

But the night got even better at chapel. At the end of the message the boys were given the opportunity to accept Christ as their savior, 97 of the 100 boys made the decision that night to follow Christ.

The previous night we had a chance to talk with the boys and learn a little bit about their lives. One boy, Kevin, didn’t have a father and the boys in his neighborhood would tease him and ask him why he didn’t have a father that loved him, because they had a father who loved him. It broke my heart to know that he had a father who loved him, a heavenly Father who loved him more than anyone could ever imagine, but that he didn’t know that. He was one of the first boys to walk up to the altar the last night, it made me so happy to know that he was accepting his true Father.

One of the other boys, Enrique, was very quiet, didn’t say much and was very soft spoken. He didn’t really show much emotion, I tried with all my might to get him to laugh and smile but with little luck (it was probably my bad Spanish skills). The last night he chose to give his life to Christ, I wasn’t able to really talk to him about his decision but I was able to stand next to him and pray over him, words that he didn’t understand but were filled with love. By the time we reunited with them from the trip back to Guatemala City he jumped out of the car and ran to give me a hug with a huge smile; that was worth all of the sweat, soreness and corn tortillas from the week.

Over that week I learned that God’s love transcends cultural and linguistic barriers. I learned the difference between preaching the gospel and showing the gospel. For many of us, who didn’t speak Spanish, there was an unspoken love that developed over the week. Someone in our group said that the hardest part about leaving would be trusting that God loves those boys more than I ever can. That statement became more real as we said goodbye to them on Friday and I thought about the realities they were going back to. I wasn’t able to do anything but trust that God was going to protect those boys because of how much he loves them.

I would also like to thank my family and friends who enabled me to go on this trip, and thank them for contributing to the transformation of a nation. Though you may not have seen the impacts of your support, I can guarantee that your support had an impact on the lives of the boys who attended the camp.

A Reluctant Pope and the Reluctant Republican Field

As posted on the Common Sense Concept Two Cents Blog

After months of speculation, Indiana Governor Mitch Daniels announced over the weekend that he would not seek the Republican nomination in 2012. Despite the support of some prominent Republican leaders, Daniels put family first and bowed out. The decision was a disappointment to many, but Daniels can hardly be faulted for demonstrating such humility and prudent consideration. These are virtues we should desire in candidates for high office. It seems reasonable that one shouldn’t be dragged against their will into a campaign for the most important job on Earth. However, there is a precedent for forced leadership, and the story may remind us of the rare necessity of hoisting responsibility upon a reluctant leader.

It was A.D. 590 and Rome was a disaster. The city suffered from the tragedies of a flood and the atrocities of war. A deadly plague was rampant, and had just taken the life of Pelagius II. When the monastic Gregory learned he had been elected Pope, he refused the office, fled from the city, and hid in the woods. Eventually he was found and physically dragged back to St. Peter’s to be consecrated.

While he was a very unlikely candidate for the papacy, Gregory wasn’t without qualification. He had served as Prefect of Rome under Emperor Justin and as a deacon under Pope Pelagius II. He was identified as the right man for the job. And though Gregory saw his election as a punishment, he nevertheless committed himself to doing the job well. He succeeded, creating order in the midst of chaos. Historian Bruce Shelley explains, the “prestige of the papacy in the Middle Ages rests in large part on the practical government maintained by Gregory” through those troubled times. As a result, not long after his death, the church labeled him “Gregory the Great.”

Gregory’s Rome is not very different from the U.S. today. We are in the midst of war and strife abroad and suffering from the plagues of unemployment, spending, and debt. History often demonstrates that dire straits open the way for a demagogue who inevitably makes things worse; other times, however, the magnitude of a crisis creates a unique opportunity best suited for an unlikely and understandably reluctant leader. Now is such a time.

Gregory was dragged into the papacy kicking and screaming and became arguably one of the greatest popes in history. For those hesitant to see a candidate dragged into the presidential race, it might be worth remembering how one reluctant, sixth century monk came to lead Rome into a period of stability. Many (if not most) conservatives are not convinced that the current crop of candidates includes a leader capable of presiding over a practical government that will bring order to the chaos. It’s time for those who are unsatisfied to band together, go into the woods, find a candidate, and drag them into the race.

Small Still Voice

Lately Ive been reading a couple Francine Rivers books, good stuff. In her books whenever God speaks to the characters it is in a couple words, like "be still my beloved" or "trust and obey." When I pray, I pray in paragraphs, and most of the time I would love God to answer in paragraphs, carefully detailing and describing what he wants me to do. But that is rarely what happens. Most of the time I get that still small voice.

Psalm 46:10 reminds us to "be still and know that I am God." But in the midst of crisis it is anything but easy to be still, I'm looking for answers and directions, preferably in detail. So what do we do?

In May the children's ministry is focusing on "all access," knowing that you can talk to God about anything. One of the aspects of this is what God might say when we pray. I was gently reminded that sometimes God answers our prayers through others, sometimes he says no through circumstances, and sometimes he says wait. In others words, "Don’t worry about

anything. Instead, tell God about everything. Ask and pray. Give thanks to him. Then

God’s peace will watch over your hearts and your minds because you belong to Christ

Jesus. God’s peace can never be completely understood." Philippians 4:6-7.

It is reassuring (and a little frustrating sometimes) to know that God's peace can never be completely understood. Instead, we must wait on that still small voice.

Practice Makes Perfect

Growing up we are told that practice makes perfect. If we want to learn how to we play a song we have to practice (I spent hours pounding on a piano because my mom made me practice when I wanted to play); if we want to be good a free throws we have to practice; if we want to learn how to write cursive we have to practice, and the list goes on and on.

But I have come to realize there are a couple things that I dont think I am good at, and most of the time it is because I dont practice doing those things. I used to not like praying out loud because I didnt think I was good at it I couldn't think of the "right" things to say, whenever anyone would ask "who wants to pray" the trick was to always avoid eye-contact (this also works when a teacher asks the class a question). But you dont get good or comfortable praying out loud if you dont pray out loud, i.e. practice.

We also dont learn how to do something by just reading about it. You dont learn algebra by reading about it, you learn it by practicing it. Same goes for love. You dont learn how to love people by reading about it, you learn how to love people by practicing it. Sometimes you get it wrong, just like you get algebra problems wrong, but eventually you learn how to get it right.

The same also goes for being creative. I was having a conversation with a friend about being creative. I dont think I am a creative person, point blank, but I started to realize that our society doesnt encourage people to practice being creative. We are taught to do what we are told, not to question authority, dont change tradition, and on. I dont think we encourage people to practice being creative. As a result, I have found it hard to be creative because I have never been challenged to be or practiced being creative. How can we learn to do something if we dont practice it?

Another lesson learned: practice makes perfect.

Community IS Important

Over the past couple months I feel like I have heard a lot about community. I have heard that it is messy, it is hard, it is biblical, ect...I totally understood community, and then I went to Japan.

This past week I spent some time in Japan for work, but meanwhile was completely out of Christian community. There are three things I observed: 1) I never realized how much community have, from the people I live with, to the people I work with, to the people I hang out with, I am constantly surrounded by community; 2) how grateful I am for the community God has blessed me with, regardless of the fact that it is messy or hard; and 3) how important community really is.

Community is important to help support, encourage, learn, teach, and keep each other accountable. Paul said in Philippians 1:30-"We are in this struggle together..."

Lesson learned: community IS important.

A Promise Never Seen

In Deuteronomy Moses is retelling a new generation of Israelites their story. He is constantly telling them that they should "remember well what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh and to all Egypt" (7:18). Its kind of like a grandpa telling the kids their family history (if your family is some 600,000 people).

While reading, one thing that jumped out at me was Deut 1:38. Moses tells the people that the Lord was angry with the previous generation but that "the Lord was also angry with me for your sakes, saying, 'Even you shall not go in [the promise land]'." There are multiple occasions in Exodus when Moses steps in on behalf of Israel to save them from God's wrath. And because of that he is told he will never see the promise land? If it were me, as soon as God told me I couldnt enter the promise land because of the people of Israel, I would probably say something like "Ok God, well I can travel on my own, I don't really need them, as long as I get to go into the promise land" But that is far from what Moses did, he remained faithful to God and to the people of Israel and led them to the promise land, though never setting foot in it. He knew that it was about something bigger than himself.

I wonder how many times I have give up on something or someone because they were not providing what I wanted at the speed that I wanted. For someone who seriously lacks patience, I can think of a couple instances where I have slacked, or even given up, on praying for someones salvation because it wasnt happening quick enough for me.

Moses made a 40 year commitment to the people of Israel while indirectly sacrificing his chance to enter the promise land. Moses saw it more important to faithfully lead the people to the reward (ie the promise land) than actually receiving the reward himself. How often do we do that?

Your church looks like fun...

Yeah my church is fun, it is a lot of fun. Here is a little example of how fun it is.

One of the reasons I love NCC is that these people know how to have fun and at the same time they know how to love God.

I had the opportunity to hear one of our pastors speak the other night about friendship and how the friends you chose will determine the quality and direction of your life. When I look back I can see this oh so clearly, for better and for worse. Regardless of how my friends have influenced my life I am thankful for them because in some way they made me the person I am today. Like Paul said to the Philippians "everything that has happened to me here has helped to spread the good news." It is my hope that everything that has happened to me through the past 23 years, for better and worse can now be used to show the redemption and mercy of Christ.

The people in my life now have helped me to understand that verse in Philippians, and they have also helped to determine the quality of my life and have helped me to find the direction of my life. And the best part, is we have done all of that while having fun, while laughing, while telling embarrassing stories, while watching Never Say Never (what?) and again while laughing. It has all been fun!