Leaving on a Jet Plane

I am down to my last 24 hours in Lima.  The final evaluations of my internship are done.  The despedidas (goodbyes) have begun.  The dreaded time to start packing is drawing near.  (How am I ever going to fit all of this stuff into one bag?)  My saving grace is that I am still waiting for Continental to send me my electronic ticket to print.  When that happens, my departure is going to become a reality. 

 

Surprisingly, I have shed only a few tears so far.  I have to explain that comment by saying that, for me, shedding a few tears means that I only cried a little bit when I said goodbye to each person.  That is a pretty good accomplishment for me as I tend to be a big llorona (crybaby.)  In my spirit, I do not feel like my time here is done.  Maybe I am in denial, or maybe this adventure is has not come to an end yet.  At this point, only God knows that answer to that.  But I like the peace He is giving me.

 

I feel like life is a story.  It is a story made up of different chapters that are filled with encounters and people.  This chapter has been an incredible one.  The plot has been filled with the realization of dreams and desires that God has been placing in my heart for a long time.  As the main character, I feel like I am living a dream that has become a reality. 

 

Many people have written to me and commented on how much they admire what I am doing, especially because not many people could do it.  I am not sure if they are referring to living in another country or working in an area that has a different socio-economic reality, or possibly something else.  But, in this last post from Peru, I want to let everyone know that it is me who has been blessed by this experience.  I am the one who has learned the most during this time in Peru.  This community and these people have taught me and changed me.  God has allowed me to see the harsh reality of life, but above all, He has allowed me to witness tremendous beauty, strength and dignity.  God has shown me His compassion and His grace both in joy and laughter, as well as tears and the struggles.  Most importantly, God has shown me through His servants here, that there is hope and there is faith that the world can change – no matter how difficult the process, no matter how big the obstacles.  Thank you, God, for your love and your compassion.   

 

The people I have met, the experiences I have had are now all a part of my story.  I will carry them with me wherever I go, just as I carry most of you with me.  I cannot wait to introduce you to some of them…their stories are worth listening to!  Thank you so much for supporting me during the unfolding of my story.  It is not over yet, so stay-tuned for the continuation….coming soon!

My Green Sweater

Camp in Moyobamba

I brought a green sweater with me to Peru. I bought it last year from the Target in Fairfield, New Jersey, close to where I live. I really like this sweater, partly because it is comfortable, and partly because it is bright green. Bright colors make me happy:) My green sweater has travelled with me to many places, and I’m sure could tell some stories of its own. It is one of only five chosen sweaters that I have in Peru - my challenge to live simply and in solidarity with the community in San Juan. So it has gotten a lot of use in these past three months.

A lot of people on my team laughed with me when I told them that I brought most of my sweaters (including the green one) with me to Moyobamba last week. You see, Moyobamba is a city up in the north of Peru that is in the jungle region. In my subconscious, I knew that being in the jungle meant that it was going to be hot...really hot. But, since I totally underestimated the degree of cold in Lima during these winter months, I decided I wasn’t taking any chances on being cold in the jungle. So into my bag went my green sweater, along with pretty much every other sweater that I have with me. One hour later, I arrived in the airport to sweltering, almost unbearable heat and immediately thought, “I can’t believe I packed all of those sweaters. I’m never going to use them here.”

Little did I know that God had perfect plans for all of my sweaters, especially my green one. Our team from Peace and Hope was in Moyobamba to run a leadership camp for young adults from different evangelical churches in the region. The youth began to arrive on Tuesday afternoon, a bright sunny day. That day, I met Magaly, a thirteen-year-old girl from a town called La Florida about an hour away from Moyobamba. I first saw Magaly when she arrived and registered for camp. I was the “tour guide” during registration. My responsibility was to show people where they could find their rooms, the bathrooms, and the dining room. (Do you find it funny that the tour guide for a camp in the Peruvian jungle was a gringa from New Jersey? I did…) When I first saw Magaly, I was drawn to her. For some reason, I had the feeling that I needed to get to know this girl. There was some strong force pulling me towards her that first day. I think about it now, and truly believe it was the Holy Spirit talking to me. Coincidentally (or not!), Magaly was one of six young adults in my small group that would be meeting all week long together. She wound up being a significant part of my experience at the camp.

That first night at camp, it rained. Glorious buckets of rain! Have you ever smelled the earth when rain first falls? It is so clean and wonderful. In Lima, it doesn’t rain. It just mists a bit, but actually raindrops do not fall. So strong, pounding rain was a great gift for me. With the rain came some cooler weather. It wasn’t cold by any means, but it took an edge off of the tremendous heat. The reprieve from the heat was great for me, but not so much for the youth. Most of them come from very hot climates, so they were suffering with even the little bit of cool air that the rain brought. Magaly arrived one night to our small group shivering. It was then that I remembered the bag full of sweaters that I never thought I was going to use. Thank you, Lord! I ran to my room, pulled out the green sweater and handed it to its new temporary owner. She was hesitant to actually put it on until I made her. I proceeded to give out the rest of my sweaters over the next day to other girls who were also suffering from the cold. Thank you, Lord for little gifts like that to pass on to others.

The next day, I sat looking at Magaly in my green sweater during our opening activities. She didn’t look so well. It turns out she had a fever, which is not that uncommon in Peru. She took an aspirin and it seemed to go away. But the following morning, I noticed that she looked worse. I pulled her aside at one point and when my hand touched her skin, it was burning up. Her fever was back full-force. When I asked her what was going on, she began to cry. Her head hurt, her throat hurt. She went back and forth between shivering cold and being extremely hot. We decided to take her to a doctor as soon as possible. Magaly didn’t want to go, but she was so weak that she didn’t really have a choice. So off we went to town.

During our four hour plus wait in the doctor’s office, I began to ask her questions about what she was feeling. She showed me a small blister that had popped up on her skin in the shower that morning. Then she showed me a couple of more. I knew immediately…chicken pox. Sure enough, Magaly had varicela, chicken pox. But, during her exam, we also found out that she was suffering from the side effects of a couple of different parasites, also not uncommon from the unclean water in the jungle. Magaly had been pretty sick for a few months. Because of the fever, we were able to get her to a doctor and get medicine. Where she lives, there is little access to doctors and probably not that many resources to buy medicine. So, thank you Lord for the chicken pox.

From that point on, I was attached to Magaly. Her story, her life, her spirit became part of mine over that week. Hopefully my story became part of hers, kind of like my green sweater that she wore around all week long. At the end of camp, Magaly tried to give me back my green sweater. I put it in a bag and gave it to her, a memory of her week and of me. (I also have to be honest and admit that I did not want to bring the sweater on the plane in case it would spread the chicken pox to other people.) I don’t know if she will ever have cause to use the sweater in the hot climate where she is from. But I find myself looking at pictures of her in my green sweater. I find myself wondering if she finished taking her medicine. Is she feeling better? Is there more that I could have done for her? Is there more that I could have said? What did I miss? Will I ever see her again?

Magaly is just one of many youth that I met in Moyobamba whose stories became part of mine. As I think of them, I feel caught between a feeling of overwhelming love for these amazing young adults, and a sense of hopelessness when confronted with some of their realities. They are youth who have dreams of studying in college and pursuing careers, when the reality is that there are very few options for further education and a lack of available jobs. Some are youth who come from broken family situations and parents who are younger than I am. Many lack basic education in health and sexuality, as well as access to medical resources. What do I do with all of this? In a week, all I could do was love them, hug them, encourage them, and be with them…whether it was laughing or crying. So that is what I did and it was a blessing for them and for me. But, in the back of my mind I have a nagging thought that there is no reason that these precious young adults should not have all the opportunity in the world to pursue their dreams and their desires. So my hope and my prayer is that the world would begin to change so all children and youth can have hope and faith to follow their dreams.

This week, please keep in your thoughts and your prayers some of these young adults: Cristian, Berta, Julio, Magaly, Jhecy, Joel, Deborah, Limna, Juan. Pray that their dreams would never die. That they would have faith and hope that overcome the hardness of reality. That God would send people into their lives to hug them, love them and encourage them along the way. That the church, people of faith and these precious youth would become instruments of transformation and change in our world.

Faith Without Borders

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4)

It took me forever to choose the name of my blog site. I knew what I wanted to convey to people, but I just didn’t know how to say it. I mulled over names for weeks, with help from friends and family – who probably became very tired of me testing out possibilities on them! For me, the name needed to capture the heart of my journey. Of course, I wanted to express my love of travel and of foreign cultures – my desire to build bridges with people outside the borders of my own town, state and country. Ever since my first trip outside of the United States to Belfast, Northern Ireland when I was 17, I was hooked on travelling. So, Faith Without Borders does mean my faith physically taking me outside of the borders of my home. It also encompasses a faith that transcends manmade and cultural boundaries as well. It means seeing God in the amazing plurality of the cultures of the world.

I also wanted to capture the feeling of freedom and awe that comes with all-out adventurous faith. Exciting faith in the God who so desires to be in relationship with His children, that he sent His only son to set us free. For a long time, I did not live in that freedom. I was scared and anxious about stepping outside of my boundaries, outside of the borders that had been set for me. Not just physical borders, but societal and personal borders. Expectations of who I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to be doing. I had fear of stepping outside of my comfort zone and the life I was leading to seek something more that God had for me. The problem is that I just wasn’t satisfied in the life I was leading.

For me, Faith Without Borders also means stepping out in confidence in the calling that God has for me – wherever it might take me. It means being assured of the faithfulness of God to protect me and guide me wherever the path might lead. It means being on an ultimate adventure with God. It also means trusting that as I delight myself in God, and as I continue to seek him with a faith sans borders, that he will continue to give me the desires of my heart.

I have to admit that, sometimes, this is easier said (or written) than done. These past few months, I feel like I have been in my sweet spot, the place where my passions and desires meet God’s need in the world. It is the place that God desires me to be at a certain moment in time. I feel like I have found that place, both in my journey in seminary and my time in Peru. But, I still find myself having moments where I feel like I don’t know what I am doing. The past couple of days, for instance, have been difficult. My brain doesn’t seem to be working right and Spanish isn’t coming out very easily. I’m missing home – family and friends. I’m wondering about my future. Is God calling me to the mission field full time after I graduate? Will I be able to do it? I’m turning 35 (35!!) on Sunday. Does God want me to head out on mission as a single woman? To be truthful, I woke up this morning thinking that I just couldn’t do it if I had to do it alone.

Having Faith Without Borders is an adventure and it is exciting. There is nowhere else I would rather be. But it isn’t easy. I have questions and I have doubts. I have days where I am not sure what I am doing, or what God is doing. I know that when I choose to follow God wholeheartedly, I can’t assume that it will always be easy. But I also know that, although it isn’t always easy, God is always faithful. My prayer today is that I will continue to delight myself in Him. I pray that I will continue to step out in an adventurous faith, even when I am not sure what that means. And through that, I'm holding on to God's promise to give me the desires of my heart…because He knows my true desires better than I do.

Eyes To See....But Is Seeing Enough?

Last week, I returned from a short vacation in Santiago de Chile. This marked the halfway point of my internship in Lima. Being halfway through something is always an interesting place. It is a time to think about how far you have come in the first half, and where you desire to go in the second half. Certain experiences this past week have made me ponder what I have learned and how I have changed. To be honest, my feelings are mixed. In certain moments, I feel like I have such clear vision of the world and all of its issues, both good and bad. At the same time, within these moments of clarity, I feel extremely confused regarding what to do about the things that I see.

Right before leaving for Chile, I went on my first visit to a section of Lima called Miraflores. I don’t know if Peruvians would consider Miraflores a middle class or upper class neighborhood, but it is one of the nicest areas of Lima. Right away, I noticed certain differences between Miraflores and my community in San Juan de Lurigancho: the air was cleaner, lacking the smell of exhaust fumes and pollution that I have grown accustomed to in San Juan. The streets were clean…no trash on the corners. The level of noise was completely different…gone was the incessant blaring of horns and street vendors calling out their goods for sale through loudspeakers. The parks were green as opposed to the dusty, desert landscape in my community. There were lots of high-end stores (including many American fast food places and coffee shops). Interestingly, even the people looked different. In San Juan, it is not rare to see people in traditional indigenous dress from the provincial regions in Peru. Peoples’ physical appearance is often rich in culture with beautiful dark eyes, hair and skin. The people in Miraflores are beautiful as well, but represent a different cultural entity of Peru –more European or mestizo. With my blonde hair and blue eyes, I didn’t stand out nearly as much. Walking through Miraflores, I felt like I was in a completely different world (and I don’t think I hid it that well as I looked wide-eyed around at everything!)

Fast forward a couple of days to the Lima airport. As I waited for my plane to Chile, I wandered through the airport. Again, I was again struck by the differences from San Juan. There were shops selling artisan goods for extremely expensive prices. I wondered who made them and how much did they get paid? The airport gates were filled with foreigners and those Peruvians that had enough means to travel. I wondered how much of the Peruvian population was able to travel for pleasure? 5%? 10%? Of the people that I know in San Juan, I don’t believe that many have ever travelled internationally, possibly not even nationally. I was well aware that my trip to Santiago for four days was a privilege that many people do not have.

These experiences, these differences, have been so vivid in my mind this week. I can see the inequality so clearly. I see it as someone living in San Juan de Lurigancho and travelling to Miraflores, two very different parts of the same city. I see it as the owner of an American passport, itself a ticket to incredible freedoms and amenities in the world. God has granted my prayer to begin to see the world as He does, but is seeing enough? If I have Kingdom eyes, what about my Kingdom hands, my Kingdom feet and my Kingdom voice? Now that I see these things, what do I have to do about it?

I look at that question, and it just feels overwhelming. What can one person (me!) do in front of enormous problems that seem to engulf the world.

Two days later….

I’m back trying to finish this post. I didn’t know where to go after the line above and I had a sense that I wasn’t supposed to finish the post. So I left it, and now I know why. I spent nine hours on Friday night in a church with fifty people of mixed ages in a vigilia (vigil) until the wee hours of Saturday morning. We sang, we prayed, we played and we talked. Our theme was integral or holistic mission. Basically, we began a journey to discover what it means to truly be on mission for God in our world today. How do we confront the problems we see in our society, the reality of our world, as messengers of the Kingdom of God? What does that even mean? In other words, is it enough to see the reality of the world, or do we need to do something about it?

Friday night’s vigilia reminded me of a few key things:
• Christians are called to be agents of transformation in their communities.
• The Kingdom of God is meant to be started here on earth (as it is in heaven, just like Jesus taught his disciples.)
• We are called not only to believe in the transforming power of the message of Jesus, but to ACT it out – make it a reality.
• The problems and the obstacles that we face may seem overwhelming, but we must have FAITH and HOPE that God will continue to transform our world.

So, I guess my prayer is changing.  It's growing. I want to see with Kingdom eyes, but I want my hands, my feet, my voice, my heart, and my soul to be Kingdom-centered. I want to take the next step – to be actively building the Kingdom of God here on earth.

The Gift of a Day

Yesterday afternoon, I sat down to catch up on my journal writing.  When I opened my journal, I was shocked to realize that I had not written anything since the previous Sunday....a whole week!  It honestly did not feel like that much time had passed since I had last written.  How do the days pass so quickly, with one activity running into another, so that seven full days pass without even realizing it?  No matter which continent I am living on, the daily momentum of life always seems to overrun time to reflect on what is happening.  While I struggle with this in the U.S. as well, living in a new culture and city makes it feel even more important to take time to reflect on what is happening in daily life.  As a beloved professor of mine wrote to me, "Make sure you write everything down."

So yesterday, after getting over the shock of a whole week gone by, I decided to write down what I could remember of this past week.  As I wrote, I realized that each day brought something new and special into my life.  Each day had its own story; each day added a different element into my time here in Peru.  It was amazing to see how each day was like a clean slate, ready to be filled up by people and conversations; yet each of the days were also connected in a way that they made each other richer, like a growing garden being filled up by more and more flowers...different in color and scent, but each complimenting each other and making the garden fuller and more beautiful.

Each day is truly a gift.  To give you a fuller picture of my life in Lima, here are some of the gifts I received last week.

• Monday: I translated for a US team that presented a workshop on Child Sexual Abuse.  The audience of Peruvians included medical personnel, lawyers, and people working directly in communities here in Lima.  It was the first time these different groups came together to talk about this topic in a common forum.  It was a gift to see this process begin because one of the unfortunate deficits here in Peru is a forum where communities can begin to tackle issues like this.
• Tuesday: This was a holiday in Peru.  I finished some much needed household chores, worked out, and then wrote my last update.  That night, I popped some popcorn and watched Avatar for the first time.  It was a really relaxing day!
• Wednesday: I am helping out at some workshops on Women's Rights, particularly on the topic of Domestic Violence.  Today, I taught a short bible lesson on stories in the Bible where God changes peoples' names.  Think Abram-Abraham, Sarai-Sarah, Jacob-Israel.  The name change always comes after a personal encounter with God as God gives a person a new identity and a new mission.  In the workshop, we talked about the words or names that others have called us, or that we have called ourselves; names that are demeaning and untrue.  When we encounter God, how does He change this word or this name for us?  What is our true identity as children of God?
• Thursday: I was privileged to have a three hour "class" with a friend, Arturo, from the National Office of Paz y Esperanza (where I work).  He took me through the history of Peru from the invasion of Spain in the1500s...all the way to the present time as the country recovers from the terrorism of 1980-2000.  It was an incredible time of learning and sharing, especially listening to a man my own age talk about his life that is so drastically different than my own.  That story deserves a whole separate post.
• Friday: I went out with the team from Paz to a community that they are beginning to register. The community was formed by people who were displaced from their homes because of the internal armed conflict.  They moved to San Juan to be closer to Lima in hopes of protection and safety.  Now, a law has been passed saying that the government will pay reparations for what happened from 1980-2000.  Paz is one of only a few groups that is out on the ground making sure that people know about the law and are registering officially to hold the government to its promise. 
• Saturday: I went to a lovely community called Mariategui to help out at a children/adolescent ministry.  It is one of my favorite places to be here in San Juan, sharing with the teenagers and playing volleyball with them.  Afterwards, I had my first experience with Peruvian nightlife as I met up with some friends to experience a traditional Peruvian pisco sour followed by dancing.  One of my favorite things about Latin America is the dancing, so this night was so much fun for me!  What a great end to the week.

Each of these is a memory that I will have forever.  My prayer and my desire is to walk through this journey, both in Lima and in life, keeping in mind the gifts that each day brings.  I wonder what my gift will be today?

Desconectada (Disconnected)

Early last week, I was commenting to my roommate, Grace, that I felt like I was spending too much time on the computer - checking e-mail, looking at Facebook, trying to stay connected to my world back in the States. Don´t get me wrong, I think the modern convenience of technology is awesome. I am living in Peru, but I can keep updated on pretty much anything going on with my friends and family at home through a plethora of tools through the Internet. I can even talk to people for free while actually seeing them on my computer. But, one of my goals for my experience this summer is to spend more time in seeking God in prayer, in reading and in quietness. Another is to fully commit to the experience of being here and living in the community of San Juan. Both of these goals mean less time mindlessly poking around the Internet. Of course, in this age of super-technology, that is easier said than done.

I don´t know if God overheard my conversation with Grace (and if He agreed with my assessment of my overuse of time on the Internet), but on Thursday my computer crashed. "Crash" isn't the right word, because that would assume that it had turned on. But it didn´t. And in one split second, I felt completely cut off from my world. No e-mail, no Facebook, no Skype. Gone was my music, my documents, my pictures. How in the world can I be so dependent on technology that this felt like a monumental disaster in my life?

I have to admit, it was not a very good moment for me. Between allergies that just didn't want to go away, and then my computer that was muerta (dead), I felt completely disconnected. From life here, from life in the States, and I have to say, from God and this journey that I am travelling on. Feeling disconnected is not fun. For me, it is a mixture of feeling tired and lonely, but also guilty and challenged for feeling tired and lonely. Because, the truth is that I love everything that I am doing here in Lima. I work with a group (Peace and Hope) that is challenging and educating communities about different social issues in this society. In just a few weeks, I have: taught at seminars on Women´s Rights and Domestic Violence; shared bible lessons on our identity as children of God; translated for a seminar on investigation of child abuse cases; and played with street kids living in a center in my neighborhood. I have also met some tremendous Christian servants who live and love unconditionally in extremely poor areas in San Juan. In the midst of the struggles they face on a daily basis, how could I be reacting so strongly to something that definitely was not a crisis?

So I took a step back and asked God to reveal to me what he wanted me to see. In the midst of this "crisis" I was having, I decided to write down the blessings that were surrounding me. This was the list that I wrote in my journal:

• Karen, the secretary at our office, for calling her computer guy and bringing me to his shop.
• Anna, another friend at the central office, for getting me in touch with the computer techs there, and for letting me stay the night at her place on Thursday when they were still trying to fix my computer. (We had an awesome conversation!)
• Genaro, a colleague at our office, for being so concerned about this gringa that he took a taxi into the main office with me (over an hour away!)
• Arturo, who tirelessly worked on fixing my computer Thursday night and then all day Friday as it crashed again.
• Jaime and Anna for introducing me to Sanwichon - a huge Peruvian style sandwich.

I realized that I was never truly disconnected. God has always been faithful in providing people that care for me wherever I am in the world. Sometimes, it is difficult to remember that in the midst of challenging circumstances. But although we may feel disconnected, God never disconnects from us. Maybe He uses those moments that we feel disconnected to help us focus on other things He is doing in our lives.

True to his faithful nature, God gave me a great weekend of fellowship. I was able to let out some frustration from the end of the week during a conversation with my roommate. On Saturday, I had a great time playing with a group of street kids living at a home near my house. That night, I was able to talk to and play volleyball with some teenagers in another community. As for my computer, it is up and functioning. And with its new Peruvian programs, it is now bilingual...which makes me smile:)

Welcome to My Neighborhood

“It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor,

Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor?”

Mr. Rogers

I have many more stories to share with you about people I have met over the last two weeks in Lima. However, I realized that I haven’t properly introduced you to my neighborhood where I am living and working. Welcome to San Juan de Lurigancho! San Juan de Lurigancho is the largest district in Lima; in fact, many believe that it is so large that it should actually be its own city. There are more than 1 million people that live in this district alone.

The history of San Juan is very interesting because it is directly connected to the recent history of Peru. From 1980 until 2000, the country of Peru was immersed in what it calls “el conflict interno armado” or the internal armed conflict. For twenty years, a guerrilla movement called El Sendero Luminoso (The Shining Path) fought a violent war against the government. As always, those that were caught in the middle were the citizens of Peru, specifically those living in the provinces of the country (meaning all of the areas outside of Lima). It is estimated that over 70,000 people were killed both from the terrorism of The Shining Path and the repercussions from the government as they tried to combat the terrorism.

The daily fear of living in this internal armed conflict caused many people living in the provinces of Peru to migrate closer to Lima. Today, more than 1/3 of the population of Peru lives in the capital. Along with the flight for safety that occurred during this period, there is also the draw of the “big city” for those living outside in the provinces. Some call this the “push-pull factor.” Citizens believe that Lima can provide them with basic needs like housing, education and health care (pull) while in the provinces they may be suffering from the effects of poverty, terrorism, lack of resources, or a bad crop season (pull). The pull factor seems particularly strong in Peru because everything is centralized in Lima rather than being decentralized throughout the different provinces of the country.

As people came looking for safety or for a new life, the periphery of Lima began to grow outwards. The way that communities began to appear happened in levels. First, a group of people would get together and set up “invasiones.” They would literally invade a piece of land and establish a presence there by setting up basic shelter. Members of the group would take turns keeping watch at night and over the next days and months they would begin to level out the land and build on it. They would build their houses first out of estera (a thatched material), then thin wood, and then brick. Once the “invasiones” grew, they would eventually get basic services like electricity, running water, and paved roads. At this point, the invasiones become known as “asentamientos humanos” – human settlements. As these settlements become more organized and form local leadership, they are then called “urbanizaciones,” or urbanizations.

This is how my community, San Juan de Lurigancho was formed. I live in an urbanization called San Rafael that is about an hour and 15 minutes outside of the center of Lima. In our apartment, we have electricity and running water (lukewarm in the shower because we have an electric contraption hooked up to it). Some of the roads are paved in our neighborhood and some are still dirt. Up the road about 15 minutes from me is a town called Mariategui which just received running water and electricity a year ago. At the edge of Mariategui, the cerro (hill) begins. The closer one is to the hill, the greater the poverty you encounter.

Interestingly, in our community, we are witnessing the first-hand effects of globalization. A large Chilean supermarket called Metro is building a store on the corner of our street. Metro is one of those huge, mega-supermarkets that has everything…food, clothes, appliances, etc. You name it and they have it. It is like a huge Target and Stop & Shop in one big store. Within the two weeks that I have been in San Juan, the area where this supermarket is being built has been transformed: Dirt roads have been paved. The busy street that people daily risk their lives trying to cross now has a crosswalk, a stoplight and crossing guards. New bus-stops were put in. These are all the structural benefits of a large store like Metro making its way to our neighborhood.

However, on the other side of the street, you see the row of local vendors that sell fruit, pastries and other commodities. I can’t help but wonder what the other effects of these improvements are going to be. How many of these vendors will lose business and income because of one-stop shopping at Metro? Are the days of fresh fruit and fresh bread on the way home from work soon going to disappear? I wonder if the gain will outweigh the cost in this community.

I struggle with what to do with things like internal civil war, terrorism, extreme poverty, and globalization. They all seem so interconnected; they all seem to be driven by supernatural forces of their own. It is overwhelming to think about what I am called to do as a citizen of this world, and as a child of God, with issues that are so big. I believe this is part of the reason that I am here, living in San Juan and working with Peace and Hope, a Christian NGO that is deeply involved within these communities and these issues. I realize more and more how I have come here to be a learner…and I’m excited to be a part of this adventure with God, with this organization and with these people.

The Peruvian Drive-Through

Considering that most Peruvians don’t own their own cars but rely on public transportation, the title of this post might be a little misleading. Let me explain to you what the Peruvian drive-through looks like. Every morning, I am awakened by the sound of peddlars driving down our street selling their goods. Each horn represents a different good for sale. The bread man has a different horn than the churros man (who actually uses a loud speaker to let everyone know that the “rico churros” have arrived.) To me, these sounds just represent a hindrance to more sleep, so I couldn’t imagine that anybody in their right mind would get up and go outside to go buy bread in the early morning hours. Apparently, my neighbors can’t be bothered to get up and go down to buy anything either. One day, as I was leaving the house, I saw one of the bread vendors stopped. He was yelling to our neighbors upstairs as the transaction took place. I waited to see someone come out our front door. Instead, directly in front of my face appeared a plastic bag that was being lowered down from the third story window. The bread boy reached in, took out a few soles from the bag, and then put in some fresh bread. The bag then quickly disappeared back to where it came from. So, while Peruvians might not have cars to go to the drive through, the drive-through comes to them. I guess convenience is sought and appreciated in any culture!

The Three Amigos

Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.
(Matthew 19:13-15)

Last night, I stayed in an apartment in a different part of Lima….a barrio that is socially and economically of a higher standard of living than San Juan de Lurigancho where I am living and working. I have to admit, it was like a retreat. I have only been living in San Juan for a week and a half, so I didn’t realize that the change of scenery would make such an impact on me. But it did. My bed is comfortable in San Juan, but this bed felt like heaven. The shower was hot and had strong, glorious water pressure, unlike ours that is lukewarm and trickles. I didn’t feel as conspicuous or alert walking on the street as I do in San Juan. People didn’t seem to stare at this gringa with blonde hair as much for some reason.

But, to be honest, I don’t notice these differences when I am living in San Juan. I simply live life and feel privileged to have a shower and a bed when others just a few minutes away often go without. So then, I have to ask myself, was the difference really the bed, the shower and the people, or was it the feeling of being back in “my element” in a socioeconomic sphere that I know so well? It’s easy to be in a place that makes me comfortable, where I “fit in.” But I don’t think that “fitting in” is necessarily where God calls me to be most of the time. I don’t think Jesus “fit in” to his time and culture. He was a revolutionary if there ever was one in Ancient Israel. And the people he ministered to sure didn’t fit in either. If there was ever a rag-tag group of people, it was those that Jesus sought out. They were the prostitutes, the crippled, the lepers, the adulterers, the tax collectors….even the dead (the sermon was on Lazarus today!). Jesus ministered to a beautiful rainbow of people who were not perfect and often were not accepted as full members of society.

In this rainbow of different people, one of the groups Jesus most loved was children. Children were not often valued in Ancient Israel. Many of my professors have often commented that to gain respect in traditional societies, both ancient and modern, gray hair is the key! The more years you bring with you, the more people tend to respect you. So in terms of age, children were not respected. In the passage above, when the children came to Jesus, the disciples rebuked those that brought them. But Jesus said to the disciples, “Let them come…the kingdom belongs to ones like these.” Why does the Kingdom belong to those who are like children? Is it because they see things that adults don’t see, through their innocence and their unhardened hearts? Is it because children are willing to give of themselves passionately and live with childlike wonder?

If innocence and childlike wonder are the reasons, then what do Kingdom-builders, those of us who seek real biblical transformation in our world, do with children who have been robbed of that innocence and childlike wonder? On my way home, three young street boys got on our bus. One of them began to play an instrument, which upon closer inspection turned out to be an old ridged aluminum can and a hair pick. (I guess imagination is something that ALL children have in common.) These three amigos then began to sing a repertoire of songs which no doubt they had sung on many days on many buses as they worked for a few soles (Peruvian money). The youngest one could not have been more than 5 or 6 years old. At hearing them begin to singing, I smiled because, after all, who doesn’t like listening to children sing? But as the littlest amigo turned around to look at me, I smiled at him….and his reaction was blank. No smile, no frown, no words of rebuke. There was no joy, but no pain either. It was almost as if he were numb. A friend said to me this morning, when one stops feeling anything at all, that person has reached the darkest place. This young child had a face that seemed almost empty. My smile turned to a frown and as I thought about this young boy, his life and the things he has been robbed of as a child living in poverty on the street. What must his life be like? What experiences have taken his smile, his joy, and even his pain away?

When we live in a world, where children are not allowed to be innocent and they are not allowed to see things with childlike wonder, how can we be living in a world where the Kingdom of God is theirs? Where does this little boy see the Kingdom of God? Where is Jesus for him? Praise God that there are many people who work with street kids in Lima and all over the world. But my desire is that the church, that Kingdom workers all over the world, take seriously Jesus’ desire that his Kingdom come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

In less than a twenty-four hour period, I started off praising God for my unexpected retreat from San Juan. It was a welcomed break and something that I think is necessary, especially for those working among the poor long-term. However, at the end of this adventure, I praise God for not letting me be comfortable in my life all the time. He continues to stretch me and ask me to do things and go places that I never thought I would go and do. My continual prayer is that God would show me the world through Kingdom eyes…the world as He sees it. Thank you Lord, for being faithful!

Prayer request: Please pray for these three young boys and for the many other street kids that live in Lima. Pray that somebody would be the hands and feet of Jesus in their lives. Pray that they would be able to experience life as children, that innocence and childlike wonder would be restored to them.

A Servant Named Gigi

There are so many things that I want to tell you about as I write this first update with less than a week of time actually being in Peru. It amazes me how much I have experienced in only five days in this new country. I could tell you about the city of Lima, about its tremendous size and impossible bus system that doesn’t have any rhyme or reason to it. I could tell you about my orientation with Paz y Esperanza, the organization I will be working with this summer. I could tell you about talking to people on the streets of Lima about International Environmental Day in a city that is extremely affected by air pollution. There are so many things I could tell you about, but I want to tell you about a young Peruvian woman whom I have never met. Her name is Gigi.

I arrived in San Juan de Lurigancho on Thursday morning to a new apartment and a new roommate, Grace. Grace is from California and has been living and working in this community for a year and a half. She has an incredible smile and a great personality. We have a lot in common and spent the first half of the day drinking coffee and talking (two of my very favorite love languages!!) Grace had just heard the news that a young woman whom she had been in ministry with, Gigi, had passed away earlier that morning from leukemia. As Grace told me about her friend, Gigi, little did I know that this young woman whom I had never met would be a huge part of my first week in Lima.

Grace attended Gigi’s viewing and funeral on Thursday. On Friday, I accompanied Grace to a “pollada” in Gigi’s name. A pollada is a type of fundraiser where chicken (pollo in Spanish) dinners are sold. The ministry where Gigi volunteered was having a pollada to raise money for the funeral and hospital costs that the family needed to pay off. Grace and I picked up Gigi’s family to take them to the pollada as it was the first time they had gone to the ministry where Gigi volunteered. I sat next to Gigi’s mother on the crowded bus. Gigi had just passed away a couple of days earlier and her mother was suffering deeply. She began to talk to me about her daughter – about her dreams, her life and her death. I was so privileged and blessed to hear about this amazing woman of only 31 years of age. I was also blessed to be able to cry with her mother as she shared her pain and her heartache. It was a precious moment for me, one that I will never forget.

Gigi was a true servant of God. Her family comes from a poor area of Lima also in San Juan de Lurigancho where I am currently living. But, although living in a poor area, Gigi never liked her family to say that they didn’t have things. Gigi would always tell her mother, “We have a family, we have a home. I have a mother, a father and a brother. We don’t have nothing. We have a lot.” And what she had, Gigi wanted to share with others. She spent her time teaching young kids and loving her neighbors. She volunteered in an even poorer part of Lima, ministering to young children living in extreme poverty. These young children that Gigi loved and nurtured were the ones who prepared the pollada in her name.

One by one these incredible children stood up to testify to Gigi’s life, talking about what Gigi had taught them and how much she had loved them. The first young boy that stood up was named Marco. You could tell by looking at Marco that he has a difficult life. Marco stood up and said, “Gigi taught me a lot. Gigi helped me a lot.” And then his lip began to tremble. And his eyes watered up. His body began to shake. He couldn’t say any more. Marco was too overcome with emotion to finish. You see, Marco lives up in the hills of Lima in extreme poverty. He comes from an abusive home and is a target for not only his parents, but his older siblings as well. With Gigi, he found love and compassion. He found someone who loved him like a child should be loved. She was like an earthly angel for this little boy. She was Christ’s hands and feet caring for him. And Marco was not the only child that Gigi touched. One after one they stood giving testimonies about Gigi.

So this is what I learned from a young Peruvian woman that I have never met. I want to be a sold-out servant of God for whatever time I have on this earth. I want to practice a ministry of presence wherever I am. I want to show people Christ through genuine love and compassion. I want God’s love to pour so strongly from inside of me that people can sense His presence always. I want to love my family. I want to love my friends. I want to love the people that many would say are unlovable. I want to live simply and love fully. And when my time comes to be in the presence of the Lord, I hope that people will say that they saw the love and the compassion of Christ in me…just like Gigi, a servant of servants in the Kingdom of God.