I’m unsure how to begin this because once again I’m at a
loss for words. It’s funny how a place
can do that to you and maybe that’s how you truly know something’s taken your
breath away – it leaves you breathless, it leaves you completely handicapped to
letting any thoughts or words escape you.
And for some reason my heart rejoices at this; rejoices because I’ve found
somewhere I’ve truly been captured.
This occurred to me when we returned to Canchamana
yesterday. We went with the intentions
of sharing pizza with them, the best version of an American meal we can really
give them down here, and also to share some Scripture with them. We hoped to be somewhat ‘infectious’ in the
way that they infected us last week.
In pulling up to this ominous place with smells too wretched
for your nostrils to fathom, a little flame burned slightly brighter inside of
me. It was one of those things that
stirs your spirit because your senses have recognized something familiar,
something that reminds you of home. And
in getting out of the cab that’s exactly what I felt. I felt like I was returning to something so
incredibly familiar that I was ‘in my element’.
I could be myself there – something I’ve been struggling with a lot
lately.
Then I saw my family – all 20 some of them scattered about
the field.
I wish that I could tell you my heart soared but that would
probably be an understatement. I realized
in that moment how much I grew in love with them, how much I desired that their
world be fixed, but still knowing full-well that God wanted me to have no hand
in that ‘tangible’ fix of theirs.
So after rounding them up we were able to feed them this
strange round thing that we Americans call pizza. It was hilarious watching them try to eat
it. They hadn’t the slightest clue in
which was it was to go. Some tried
eating it crust first, some from the side, others upside-down. I could only laugh at their ignorance before
realizing that mine was the same when it came to eating goat. So I gave them a brief tutorial: how to eat
pizza. To no surprise, the kids didn’t
really care too much for it while some of the adults did. Peruvians aren’t as crazy about pizza as we
Americans are. But that’s okay because I’m
not crazy about killing goats.
The rest of the evening radiated this certain beauty. We gathered around little light answering
questions that they had about religion.
Why are there so many different religions ? How do we know which is the
right one? Why do the Catholics say we
have to do this and that? What does it
mean to be saved and how do we know we are?
This is just a sampling of the questions we were asked.
The beautiful thing is that I’ve never been challenged so
much in my life. I, personally, would
rather talk to an American about predestination or something. But these are the questions that plague the
conscience of millions outside the States and these are the questions we’ve
been commissioned to answer. Thankfully
we were able to gracefully discuss religion vs. relationship – how God desires
our hearts and a relationship with us, not a list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ (that list
died on the cross). Several also prayed
for Christ to come into their lives, we taught/showed them how to pray for one another,
we shared worship song – teaching them some of ours and them teaching us
theirs.
Just like family.
And so part of me is left in Canchamana. Upon our return there, my eyes were opened to
the fact that God chiseled a piece of my heart out and left it for them
underneath that shelter. My desire is
that this will happen everywhere we find ourselves this year, that in some way
God will wreck a part of me and drop it off in another country. It’s amazing how after breaking us down, God
uses the least expected to build us back into something – something that better
reflects His son’s likeness.
Goats coming in from grazing at sunset
Kim showing Jesus’ love to a goat…
I love this picture. The tears of the ‘saints’…
