on [the other side of] skype

For those of you who don't know... Kristianna [my dear little sister] is in Brazil!

She's teaching English and loving it. She got a job shortly after arriving there and I'm not surprised at all to report that her face lights up when she talks about the lessons she's planning and how she gets to interact with her student (she just has one right now to whom she gives private lessons). I'm quite happy for her. It sounds like this is going to be an amazing adventure.

I got to chat with her via skype the other day and it was wild to be the one state-side. I found myself asking her a lot of the questions I remember getting, and I had to chuckle. And it made me miss being abroad.

I've been asked a lot lately whether or not I have plans to go abroad again. I can't really answer that yet, mostly because nothing is in the works per se. However, I DO know that the desire to go is there, and I just have to wait for God to open the door, or maybe I need to listen a little better to what He's telling me to do. Either way, it's definitely on my heart, I just don't know where the next stop on this journey is!

she did come...

just because i know everyone is waiting on the edge of their seats... Natalia did come. :) She's great. :) You should all come meet her. And hear about Russia.

The end.

9 months!

Don't get too excited ladies and gentlemen... I've not been dating anyone for 9 months, but rather, have had a steady, "adult" job for the past 9 months. Today is my 9-month anniversary with CCCVS. You can check us out at www.cccvs.org (shameless plug).

Crazy, huh? Today, last year, I had left Mexico and I was on a plane to head down to the unknown in Honduras. I jumped into a van with 3 people I didn't know and got caught in a TON of traffic because of protests to the Honduran government.

Today, this year, I am supposed to be getting a Russian roommate (Natalia), who unfortunately has not shown up! We (JKLMN) are slightly worried, but hoping she meant 830 PM and not AM as we had originally thought.

Here's to hopin' she gets here.

echando a perder se aprende

through conversation with a variety of people, it is decidedly so that i am not mexican [we all knew that], but neither am i entirely gringa. therefore i am a hybrid of the two, making me mexi-gringa.

this mexi-gringa likes to think she can cook mexican food. and people, let me tell you that cooking mexican food [cooking it the long, hard way that Tomasita cooks it] is QUITE the undertaking.

I wish I'd taken pictures to be able to add to this post, but alas, my words will have to suffice.

I tried my hand at making flautas last week and I still wonder what Tomasa would have said if she had tasted them. I thought they were decent. A little burnt, but decent. Apparently they are never [ever] made with ground beef, or ground turkey [which is what i used], but with pulled chicken. They are also supposed to be cooked to a golden color [flautas are also known as tacos dorados aka golden tacos], and mine turned out more brownish than golden. No matter the color, I still maintain that for a first try flying solo, I did ok. [but i'm not Tomasa]

Then there's the beans... well they're a different story. You'd think that after a year of eating beans and rice I'd know how to cook me some beans. Apparently not. They were extremely salty. Extremely salty. Turns out you're not supposed to put knorr suiza [aka chicken stock] in the water when you cook beans. It's only a little salt, half an onion, and a little oil. Somehow, I left Mexico thinking that no Mexican dish is complete without knorr suiza. ::Sorry T-girl. I messed this one up big-time.::

With these culinary failures under my belt, I think I've proven that I am much more gringa than mexican. Perhaps it's a 85-15 breakdown. oh well. But even with salty beans, I still have hope because my favorite line Tomasa used on me regularly was "echando a perder se aprende" [you learn by/through ruining things] -- similar to our "practice makes perfect" line, but sounds much more fun in español.

[compassion > human judgement]

One thing that has been on my mind lately, is another passage from "Spotting the Sacred" by Bruce Main, which could very well be seen as controversial. I want to preface it with a quick anecdote of something that happened at work a couple months back:

A victim of a group assault was on the stand and being cross-examined by the defense attorney of her alleged assailant. One of the issues addressed on direct examination was that her [insert expensive label here] purse was stolen, containing her Access card. The defense attorney just couldn't let the detail slip without asking her, "Your testimony is that your [label] bag was stolen, correct? Was that a real [label] bag? And your Access card was inside? I'm sorry I'm just having trouble understanding why you have an Access card if you have enough money to buy a [label] bag," at which point the ADA objected and the judge pressed the defense attorney to move on in his questioning.

I promise I'm not exaggerating the bluntness of the questioning. I was astonished, no, appalled, by the audacity of the defense attorney's willingness to mock the victim as she was giving testimony to a horrible assault and robbery/theft, especially when his line of questioning really had no relevance to the crime.

It got me thinking about my judgmental nature and ideas of justice versus compassion, and then I read this:

Our staff knows that impoverished children can be Academy Award-winning actors. The appear at our programs dressed in ninety-five dollar sneakers and designer jeans and look like they could fit into any upper-middle class community in the country. Their outward appearance sends the message, "I'm cool! I'm not poor!" But the food cupboards are bare, the gas has been turned off, and the rent payments are two months in arrears.

Some critics respond to this "deception" by claiming that "those people" just need to get their priorities right. Those hundred-dollar sneakers could feed a family for a week, maybe two. The money used to purchase those designer jeans could have been used to buy pants for all the children. And the critics are right. Money could be used in more effective ways.

But what they fail to understand is the tremendous stigma attached to poverty--especially in America, where the very rich and the very poor share the universal space of television and shopping malls. The fact that images of affluence are beamed into the living rooms of the poor every night only heightens their pressure not to be seen as poor. Especially young people. They must confront the realities of peer pressure and peer cruelty; they are susceptible to the need to project a false front. It is humiliating to have anyone find out that you are poor.

...

I have never had to beg for crackers. I do not have to spend emotional energy worrying about my next meal. Thus, I have difficulty imagining what it must be like to go through a day of school without food and know that it's likely I'll have no supper. The inability to feel what it is like to be poor worries me, for when we cannot feel something, we can blindly lose our way.

After reading this, the one thought that consistently came to mind was that I am not responsible for judging anyone. The same upside-down logic of the Gospel that tells me to lend money to people when I know for a fact that I won't get it back, also tells me that compassion trumps judgement.

I know it doesn't answer a lot of questions and there are a lot of political debates surrounding this kind of taboo topic, but at the very least, Bruce Main offered a shift of perspective that I think is worth examining.

I've been back from Mexico for a couple weeks now. Still, one of the fun memories continues to bring a smile to my face:

As Sofia and I were chatting that first Sunday I was there. We were chatting about how surprised Chava was to see me, and I shared how afraid I had been that he would have forgotten me. She put to rest any sort of irrational fear at that moment when she said (in Spanish), "Chava always looks at the picture of you and we ask him, 'Do you know who that is?', and he responds every time, 'That's 'mana Korrny. She loves me.'"

I still really like that. Especially because just about every time I look at his picture up on my wall, I think, "I love him." So it all comes full circle.

Totally aside from Mexico memories, I wanted to share a passage from Spotting the Sacred that has really impacted me and my thoughts lately:

How does one forgive? One can talk about forgiveness and argue for its importance on the basis of Scripture, but how do people forgive those who have hurt them, wronged them, abused them, or done evil against them or their loved ones? How do we move the idea of forgiveness from a theological belief to an action or decision that releases us from the bondage of hatred and anger?

To forgive another person takes a tremendous act of faith, because in forgiving we choose to surrender our need to control a situation to satisfy our longings and intentions. To transfer a situation or an event from our hands into God's takes a faith that goes beyond just lip service.

It may sound trite, but to make that kind of transfer requires one to believe that God has witnessed the wrong and that God will not dismiss that wrong as something trivial or significant. In the process of forgiving we say, "I give this situation to God and believe that in the eternal scheme of things, God's justice and grace will bring about a resolution better than I could ever make." To let go of our need to hit back, talk back, wall people out of our lives, retaliate, humiliate, malign, kill, or do whatever we desire allows us to trust God to bring about results in God's time. That then lifts us out of the realm of the temporal and places us in a realm governed by God. For most of us, no matter how serious we are about our faith, that kind of surrender is incredibly difficult. But it is possible. The results are glorious.

Food for thought....

el gozo no se me acaba

i'm back in Ensenada for the week. 'nuf said. :)

The pastors are here in the ministry center, still with the same antics. Still with the same carefree joking and teasing. Still drinking coffee and chatting a while before getting to work. Some things never change.

We saw Rick and Tammie on Saturday night when we got in. And the swelling in my heart hasn't gone down since. It's funny how you miss people you love when you're not around them--and goodness knows I've missed them--but it's funny how you almost miss people more right when you see them. Upon seeing them you remember everything you miss about them and how important they are in your life.

I got to go to Faustino and Tomasa's church yesterday. Faustino, in his classic white button-down and dress pants was walking towards the end of his driveway, taking care of business before the service had to start--30-45 min late as usual. But that worked to my advantage because I got to go into the house, see Tomasa, Sofía, and Chava, and spend some time talking to them before I went into church.

I walked back towards the house and the first person I saw was Chava. He turned, saw me, squared off, dropped his jaw, and stood there staring. I think he may have thought I wasn't actually there. He stayed that way until I was right in front of him and scooped him up into my arms. Once I was hugging him, I heard the bubbling giggles. He remembers me. He still loves me.

"I'm happy to be here" doesn't even begin to cover it.

Cruise Control

As I walked home from work one day this week, I was struck by the thought that my life is amazingly easy right now: I wake up. I go to work. I have a boss who has my best interest at heart, constantly encourages me, and praises me for the work I do. I feel affirmed at work. I leave work and very often do not think about what has happened during the day until 8 the next morning. I have enough money to pay all my bills. I even have money left over to do fun things like fly to Chicago for engagement parties, and smaller things like going out to eat with friends pretty regularly. I am surrounded by people that seek to love and serve the Lord with their lives. I am part of a community of believers.

Nothing in my life really requires a great deal of effort. I'm thankful for all these blessings. I'm thankful that all my needs are met. Yet, in a strange way, I find myself resenting all these blessings. I'm living my life, but I don't feel alive.

It makes me wonder if I'm just looking for something to complain about. Am I just looking for a way to be negative, or is there actually a crucial element missing? I tend to think that it is quite feasible that it's a combination of both. My heart longs for action, for intense purpose, and perhaps even struggle. Struggle, because out of struggle comes growth. Our of struggle comes change. Without the struggle, you're just running your motor and staying in the same place.

My growth and struggle has been linked to my "vocation" for the past few years at least. Living in Mexico and Honduras challenged me on a daily basis, at varying degrees depending on the day. To not have those challenges so blatantly, and, dare I say, easily before me makes life borderline boring.

So now, the question remains: should my life be inherently challenging? Or do I need to go out and seek the challenges? Do I need to actively seek the struggles and growth? Or was it exciting and challenging because I was doing things that I care about so deeply?

I want to feel urgency. I want to feel passion and conviction. God, ignite in me a compassion for the people that surround me. Burn in me a passion for my job. Give me eyes and ears to see and hear the struggles around me. Make me thankful, or tear me down to humble me. I just want to feel something other than apathy.

Need

"There's something about the poor that delights the heart of God. They're contrite. They know they're in need. What is it about the poor that makes them want to come to Jesus? What is it about the poor that literally brings the Kingdom of God, that allows them to experience the Kingdom of God in a way that [us] well-fed don't? It has to do with hunger. It has to do with their need. They know they need God. They're hungry and thirsty. The Lord wants to cause even the rich, even the middle-class, to be poor in spirit and know that they are in need of Him."

I read this in a book, Always Enough, by Heidi and Rolland Baker. I believe I've mentioned this book in previous posts, and as I read it, it stirs up in me so many questions and desperate desires to see God move here, the way He does in impoverished communities.

As I look at the church in America, and at my own life, I see a staggering lack of passion and faith. I believe Heidi Baker is on to something here, pointing to lives characterized by hunger and need, and linking that to a hunger for God. When you have nothing, no material possessions, you have nothing holding you back, pinning you to this world. There's not much to fling off to be able to wildly chase after Christ.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't mean to say that poor people have it easy. By no means; especially because I've seen people who have nothing in a constant battle to get more and more "stuff". They struggle with the desire for fortune, a nice car, and a fancy house just like we do. And that's not even mentioning the physical struggle it must be to go without food, water, and basic health. So where is the difference? Why do they need God with such transparency?

Perhaps the difference is that need is present in their lives and not in mine. Perhaps I don't know how to need God because I've never needed anything. Even while living in Mexico and Honduras, my every need was filled, and I never was in want. Plainly, I don't know how to need because I've never really had to. But these people Heidi Baker talks about know need to the very core of their being. They know need on a daily basis. They know how to ache for something. So when it comes to needing God, they know the kind of ache the psalmists write about.

I know I need God, but is that need present in my everyday life? I want to feel that need because I think joy and passion in connecting with Jesus is a direct result of that deeply-rooted need. So now the issue stands: how do I go about getting that passion here, where I have no need for anything else? Is it a perspective change? Is it a life-style, spending change? Is it a basic heart change?

I'm not sure what is required, but I think Mrs. Baker makes a compelling argument here.

Who do you love?

"... the chief motivation behind Paul's service was not love for others but love for his Lord. If our devotion is to the cause of humanity, we will be quickly defeated and broken-hearted, since often we will be confronted with a great deal of ingratitude from other people. But if we are motivated by our love for God, not amount of ingratitude will be able to hinder us from serving one another."

I read this quote last night as I skimmed through my journal from a missions trip to Mexico in 2003. I (obviously) did not write this, but must have read it in one of the devotionals from the trip and copied it into my journal. Good thing, because I definitely no longer have the devotional booklet, but I DO have this journal! ;)

This whole business of motivation for "doing good" could get very cyclical and crazy. If I love people and want to serve them, it is only because I have experienced love from God. But the love for God sometimes is exiled to the back seat, making it no longer the driving force. And this is what whoever wrote this is identifying as a big problem of people who serve.

The point is still painfully fundamental. Christ needs to be at the center of all we do, or it won't work out. Plain and simple. These fundamentals are the kinds of things we graze over most often as cliche and silly, but failure to adhere to these fundamentals seems to be the basis for most of my problems in life. Interesting.

Who says it has to stop?

This part of my nomadic journey has brought me to the busy courtrooms of Center City, Philadelphia, the smooth highways of suburban New Jersey, and the strikingly white rooms and halls of the First Presbyterian Church of Moorestown. At first, I had myself wrongly convinced, that because of my geographic location, the thrill of following Jesus to the ends of the earth would not exist here. I have come to find that this is not so, and am somewhat ashamed to admit I previously thought otherwise.

Despite my prior misconceptions, I have come to realize that I am still following Jesus to the ends of the earth, and it just so happens that I'm at THIS end of the earth, in the NorthEast of the US, a place I hadn't anticipated would continue to be a part of my journey. Furthermore, I could even say that it is that much sweeter here because I hadn't anticipated it and it is such a shock.

Initially, I found myself longing for the intensity of worship I experienced in Latin America, comparing my current material circumstances to those of my dear friends in Mexico and Honduras, and comparing the desires of my heart between one chapter in life and the next. And as I compared and compartmentalized my experiences, I realized that they are not as separate as I was making them, but amazingly connected because God uses my past to push me into an even greater future.

These are all a lot of vague musings that can be quite simply put as thus: I am certain God has called me back to the US because He wants to teach me something amazing and He has something great for me here. There is no point pining over a past that is not in my immediate future, and I'm better off seeking God where I AM and not where I WANT to be.

Proof of the above:

Since I've been home, a lot of people have told me that I am "glowing", and one even asked if I am in love because I have that glow about me. I laugh each time and wonder what everyone is talking about. It wasn't until I was asked if I was in love that it all made sense. (Stay with me here.) I'm coming off of a year and a half of learning about God in ways I never have before and falling in love with Him in ways I never have before. Like Moses, when he comes down from Mt Sinai (not that I am as great as Moses), my encounter with God shows on my face; my countenance is different because I have experienced God's presence. None of that has to do with geography in the literal sense, but my proximity to God and my faithfulness to Him.

Nothing in the Bible says that I can only worship God with abandon when in Faustino's church, or that I can only live in community at the Second Floor or above Chepe and Lourdes. This spirit-filled life of power and faith directly correlates to my attachment to God, not a place.

So here I go again, starting from what feels like scratch, but this time with my eyes tilted slightly higher, my mind slightly more focused, and heart clinging a little harder to God than before.