Last month church in the dumps. This month church in the mines. Gold mines…an hour long hike up. A literal hop, skip and jump over mud puddles, small rivers, boulders. The view on the way up is spectacular, but don’t take your gaze off the trail for long or you might take a tumble. A tumble to the water 50 ft below.
The rain coat serves two purposes. To stop the rain from getting me wet. And, by default, to prevent my sweat from escaping…thus, getting me wet. Sure this is an adventure today. But would I make this journey every week to go to church?
Am I this dedicated? I don’t know.
We make it. I step through a barbed-wire fence and am met by curious stares. As we approach – smiling – their faces relax and eventually they return the simple gift. Although words have yet to be exchanged, our hearts have received love via a universal language – a smile.
I bend down in front of a little boy. We are eye level. My perspective changes. Once again, we exchange “hearts”. A sugar cane is eagerly being devoured. I think the little boy must have a sweet tooth…so do I. He chomps away. Every few minutes, he spits the unedible portion on the ground. It lands by his bare feet. Wet, cold bare feet. My eyes wonder up from his feet to his eyes. His large, chocolate eyes meet my blue-green, gringo eyes. I reach out my hand, and he gently places his sticky hand on top of mine.
Eye level – perspectives change – hearts connect.
Am I this dedicated? Maybe. What is “church” anyways?
I spin around in circles – my tongue out, head back, knees bent, behind out – singing “Aruchacha”. Some kids repeat after me, but most just giggle hysterically. Do I look funny to them? To myself? Sure. Do I care? Not anymore. Do they find joy watching a white girl make a fool of herself? Everytime!
Perspectives change – hearts unite.
Am I this dedicated? I think so. Church is love. It ushers in joy.
Rain pours from the heavens. We squeeze into the “living room” of a believer. Kids pile in on top of us. Can both ‘wet’ and ‘cozy’ fit into the same sentence? They actually fit together perfectly to describe this evening. Peruvian coffee – leche con café – and baskets of crusty bread are passed around the dimly lit room. As the deliciously sweet liquid slides down my throat, it warms my entire body…so does the little one falling asleep on my lap.
Perspective changed once more – hearts melt into one another.
Am I this dedicated? With the help of God…Yes!
More people crowd into the tiny room. The body of Christ expands. I smile. This indeed is church. It could not become any more “church-like” even if it tried. A gathering of believers praising the Lord together – heart, mind and soul. Enter…the HARP! Yes, sing to the Lord a new song. How could it not be a new song – singing in Spanish, accompanied by a harp, high up in the Andes Mts., next to a gold mine, crowded inside a generous believers home with a wet kid asleep on my lap…
Perspectives change. How could I not, with the Lord’s help, make this journey every week. I pray I’m that dedicated. Church, after all, is not about it’s location. It’s about the people – the body of believers – Christ’s presence. To
that I am dedicated.
Enjoy the video!
