I feel like talking about money

But guarda, eh? I am all over the place with this one tonight.

After all, it's the week of taxes. We ought to make mention of it. I read a great article about it here on Relevant Magazine's website in fact, and it got me thinking even more.

For one, how great it is to be too poor to even do taxes in the first place. All the money I technically earn goes straight to paying for my student loans. And yet, I'm not technically clergy either, so that makes some sort of difference I will probably never understand. Ah, but the fact that I am paying off my student loans means I am in debt, which is just a fancy way of saying that I am a...

Slave.

(this is what I mean by being all over the place)

I am currently in the process of praying for my slavery to end. God has been doing some cool things to make this happen, but I pray for more. And done with this part of the rabbit trail.

So.. money, and getting places, or getting back from places. That is to say, I find myself, as often mentioned, en route to various parts of this country, or even to the city center, without knowing how I'll get home. I always get home intact. But it's more than this. I've had people--people I met that very week--pay for my bus home from the middle-of-nowhere-Buenos-Aires-(province) to Córdoba. Someone paid for my entire vacation's stay in Puerto Madryn. Various people pay for taxis, or let me spend the night in their homes. People who donate materials I just so happen to need that week for the girls' institute.

Argentina, or perhaps all of Latin America, is a "I know a guy who.." and this week I got to experience it with my dentist-slash-husband of my English camp's boss. We were able to take care of the much needed root canal right away (by the way, I definitely cried from the pain. Do your best to avoid the devil known as the RC!!). And when I warily came forth to pay my bill, I was surprised to see a lot less zeroes.

To think I almost had to pay, or try to help pay, over a thousand dollars to get that done in the States.

Rabbit trail numero dos: how do you feel about surgery in another country? The woman (dentist assistant) would ask me how I was feeling, but with the anesthetic I kept answering in English. Add to that the lack of vocabulary on my part for some things she was trying to explain to me.. one can only laugh about this sorts of things.

All this to try and talk about faith. This verse I keep coming back to in Proverbs asks to be middle class. That is (Message version):

Give me enough food to live on,

neither too much nor too little.

If I'm too full, I might get independent

and say 'God? Who needs him?'

If I'm poor, I might steal,

and dishonor the name of my God.

When we trust God to provide just what we need, we might get a little restless, because we don't see it until we absolutely need it.

Like when I bought my plane ticket to get here for one. The money had entered my bank account the very day that I had awakened with the sensation (Holy Spirit?) to buy the ticket.

Or taken from a comment from my roommate Eva, who just found out that she is going to Europe this winter (for most of you, it's summer), "Once again, I'm in a position where I need to trust God for a lot of money in a short amount of time!"

As the saying goes, if God wants you there, he'll get you there. Besides, as the other saying goes, it's not so much about the destination as it is knowing Him.

When we trust in God, sometimes we don't need to go on a faith trip to prove it, because everyday should be a faith journey. We ought to be ready (perhaps this is what Paul was talking about) for any and every opportunity. To open our eyes in the morning and say, "Whatchya got next, Pops?"

Nope. Not easy. Not by a long shot. Nor is it very safe. Perhaps we have to spend money to see God provide in other ways. I don't really know because it is not formulaic. But up to this point, I have never had to skip a meal because I didn't have food.

Ah! Beware of short rabbit trail. It killed me to see one former student write about not having internet or cable and thus her day was ruined (yeah, I also don't know how she was able to post this to the internet required facebook).

First world problems. Here's to selling all you have and following Him. 

Here's to taking up your cross.

Here's to, at the same time, recognizing that your call may be very different from another's, so no room for judgment on who's call is "better." But um.. the cross usually requires sacrifice. Just sayin..

love and chau (another late night crazy talk from yours truly)...

La pinta misionera

In Russia, the monk-priest-dude (official title) said that I had a certain glow about me. He asked me to return some day and be a monk-priest-dude helper. Whatever that means.

When I went to the M church (better to write it like this), everyone looked at me and said, "You have the look of a missionary."

What does this mean? I still have no clue.

Especially when the appropriately named "Great Commission" is meant for anyone who says they are a Christ follower. As mentioned in a sermon I watched on Friday, there are 3 responses to the GC:

1. To go
2. To support others who go
3. To disobey

Not really room for anything else.

I am convinced that the quote attributed to Francis of Assisi is now wrong though. He said something about preaching the gospel, and if necessary to use words. As I study more of the Scripture and how much Jesus had to explain everything he did (i.e. Road to Emmaus), all the miraculous signs and symbols of Bible times and our times, require, well words.

Maybe that's what it is. I talk a lot. So it makes me more missionary-like. Heck. I dunno. But it was cool to attend church tonight, as it was the renewing of the vows of a humble couple from Las Violetas. I was so inspired by the meeting, feeling such love from my Father above, that I had this weird inner itch to share the gospel with someone. Does that ever happen to you?

I met a couple, related to the re-married one, who is Catholic. So I talked about Jesus with them.

That's all I have to say about that I suppose. It's late and I should go to bed. I'll probably re-read this tomorrow and think, "who is this crazy girl?" haha

love and chau!

Pay attention

The other night, I had a dream. If you read my blog often, you know how much I pay attention, or try to at least, to dreams.

We of the OM household were all minding our own business when a storm started to brew. Granted, it was actually raining outside, but in the dream it was mainly the clouds that startled me. They were dark, green.. the kind of clouds that one would expect a tornado to come down any minute (thanks to all my years of living and Texas, and too many viewings of Twister).

My inner Bear Grylls began thinking of where we would hide ourselves, to avoid the storm. No place in the house seemed suitable. I finally sat down in a corner in my room, and watched as the darkness, the black clouds themselves, entered through the windows of our house. While I tried to cry out a prayer, a faint whisper of "Jesus we need you" was all that could escape my lips. And then I woke up. Giving thanks that God saved me from that darkness.

Today, Eva mentioned that she had a bad dream as well. She was in an unknown building with her parents. Some hooligans from the street busted in, and she intervened between one of them and her mom. The burly man addressed her, "Do you know what I can do to your mom?" Then she woke up.

So I shared with her my dream, and we were both a little startled.

After lunch, I was reading a devotional. About Pharoah's dreams. Then there was a short story about a woman's dream. One in which she felt God was telling her to prepare for the times ahead.

So I began to wonder. Is there a storm brewing?

Looks like I need to be praying, at the very least! The good news is, the verse at the end of the part I read from Genesis explains that God will give the answer he desires for us. In this I can trust, because He is good. love and chau!

This I choose

Walking toward the Rodriquez house from el Refugio, I thought again about my life. I just finished a conversation with a bunch of preteens about the suffering of Jesus. While preparing the message, I was struck by the fact that Jesus said nothing.

During the sentencing.
During the 39 lashes.
The crown of thorns.
The beating with the rod.
The spitting.
The nails.
THE CROSS.
The insults.
The piercing of his side.
The wine-vinegar.
More insults.
Hanging there.. naked..

Silence. "Like a lamb before the slaughter," as we read in Isaiah 53.

And as I share this message with 10, 11 and 12 year olds from the neighborhood of Las Violetas, I look at how they are dressed. Well, mainly two of them. Sonia and Satia, 10 years old, have rolled up their shirts to show off their belly buttons. They have the piercing there, a couple in their lips, and their skirts are very short. When I talked with Andrea G. about this later, we recognized that they have no frame of reference as to what is appropriate. They either have parents who don't care, and the girls dress as they see on the streets, or parents who are the examples of such decor.

Surprisingly, I am encouraged by this group of young girls that seem interested in coming the whole year. Please join me in prayer for each of them; and pray for us as we teach them the general history of the Bible.

And so I make my way toward Sol's house. I chat with Coco before he departs for his own. I look around at the plaza full of kids and teenagers who need Jesus. I am clad in bright pink shorts, and a shirt with lots of holes in it. I think, "I am 26 and I chose this life."

I was reading this week from a free downloadable book from Gospel For Asia's website, about the folks who say of missionaries in foreign field, "I could never do what you do." And to be honest, I could never do what they do. "But we are not asked to take someone else's charge," the book says (in my own words).

Because God will give us the grace to do exactly what we are supposed to for his glory. Each one, with a call to do something specific, just as important as the other.

And after spending the evening with Sol - preparing a skit for tonight's church meeting and watching for the 3rd time Argo - I made my way home. The bus was probably not coming, so after taking my key out of my bag, and cell phone placed on my person, I walked briskly through Las Violetas. I am afraid, and not afraid at the same time.

"What would they steal from me?" I thought as I enumerated my belongings in the bag. A crown of thorns.. or at least sticks from our recently trimmed bushes. A fake whip that I made out of a left over stick and pieces of leather I found in the back. My Bible.

It's times like these I actually welcome the thought of someone robbing me. Well, except that my backpack is pretty quality, so that would stink to lose. ha.

I am also not afraid because Jesus, as we all take the time to remember today, has risen! I choose to believe in this, that Jesus didn't just die and stay in the grave. He proved to be God by overcoming death. Which makes coming to another country to hang out with a bunch of pregnant and underdressed teenagers...

... worth it.

love and chau.

More bragging about the church (read God)

I guess it's because I feel like all my life I've been looking for something like this. I mean.. obviously my church isn't better than yours, since we're all one and the same and all.. And we mess up a lot. A LOT.

But it was just so neat today to come together, even if more than half of the congregation showed up super late, and share a meal afterward. One family donated leftover chicken from a party they threw the other night. Almost everyone brought some sort of salad (though side note: Argentine salads are usually potato or rice based. Kind of a funny topic). Drinks, cake..

..And everyone pitched in for cleaning up afterward.

We laughed. We cried.. We cried because Nieves was so happy to be alive. She had heart surgery just this past January. Everything could have gone wrong, but it didn't.

We cried because Claudio, one who has been truly on the rollercoaster of Christianity - between faith and doubt, between alcoholism and sobriety, being a good father, husband and not - asked his wife of 15 years this Tuesday, to renew their vows.

Sol and I are planning to make a skit for it. I might play a song on the ukulele.

As everyone sings "Que los cumpla..." I raise my glass and thank God for bringing me here even though I had no idea what it would mean.

I want to end using a quote from the book I am reading (courtesy of a recommendation of Bill Randolf, who I hear also lately had his birthday!), Safer than a Known Way, by Pamela Moore. She writes (about moving to another country to serve):

"The surrender of my will had resulted in something I had thought I did not want--leaving England. I thought that to leave England meant losing the joy and security of home. But instead of losing anything, I had gained a great deal. Within me was a deep satisfaction over the work I had done in Africa and even more was doing today in the Netherlands."

I can relate.

love and chau!

The church can dance

Went to Mily's 15th birthday on Saturday. I find it funny that while her birthday is in January, we celebrated in March. Though it's understandable, because when it comes to raising money for things like that, you have to wait.

The father talked on Sunday about their worries as a family to cover the celebration, as it is a Latin tradition to go all out for the girls on their coming-of-age birthday. "I told my wife that we needed to pray, and God provided everything."

He said this and much more, wishing to thank the congregation for their support of Milagros on Saturday. "We were so happy to see everyone there, and we loved all the comments we got afterward."

Cuarteto is one of the famous dances in Argentina, with its birthplace in Córdoba. It's sort of a polka mixed with rock sound; almost always with very cheesy lyrics. The dance itself is very My-Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding if you will. People holding hands in a circle, going in and out, the feet moving in a basic square shape (and of course a little hip action--this is Latin America folks!).

And practically everyone from the church was on the dance floor! It was a beautiful sight. Mily's friends from high school lingered on the outskirts, hardly involved. Someone asked Mily's dad who we were. When he explained we were from the church, she was shocked--"These people dancing and laughing.. not what I expected."

Perhaps she should read about Jesus' first miracle..

love and chau!

Healing in his wings

"But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings. And you will go free, leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture. On the day when I act, you will tread upon the wicked as if they were dust under your feet," says the Lord of Heaven's Armies. Malachi 4:2-3

Last night, while celebrating with a friend the completion of her thesis, I met a young man obsessed with J.R.R. Tolkkien. Not just obsessed with Lord of the Rings, as I have been lately, but the author himself. As I am currently finishing the final book in the series, we focused on some of the details we love about the story. One that was especially powerful, was the prophecy about the King of Gondor being a healer.

They would know that the rightful king had returned if there was healing in his hands.

Sure enough Aragorn comes in, and with various herbs that only he seems to know how to use, he is able to revive several characters (including my favorite hobbit - Meriadoc!). One of the women who remembered the prophecy stands in awe of what she sees. And similar to the verses we read in Malachi, thus begins the events that lead to the destruction of the power of the Lord of Mordor, better known as Sauron.

Personally, it gave me chills to think about the parallelism in the Bible of Jesus' power to heal. It's bigger than just health of the body, although I am convinced that they can be connected.

Take the story of a pastor who recently visited us in OM. He told us the story of his ability to finally forgive someone in his family. In his prayer of release from the burden to forgive, the word "sinus" came to mind. He was confused, to be honest, but felt it might be a nudging from the Holy Spirit.

Near that time, he had his annual check up on his sinuses. Typically they have to be cleared through a surgery that takes a lot of time and money. Imagine his surprise then, when the doctor says that he can't find even a trace of whatever it is that causes sinus infections (I'm not a medical professional, so I don't know the terms!). The pastor is convinced that the healing of the relationship between himself and his kin, brought a personal healing of his sinuses.

A young man in our community has been sick for a long time. His name is Lucas. While I am unclear on all of the details, what I know is a few weeks back our team doctor had a chance to visit him in the hospital. With pure boldness, she told him of his need to know Jesus. His need to give his life over to him in order to be healed. Lucas was in agreement, and so he prayed.

The next day, he got better. The people rejoiced.

Today, I got a phone call informing me that Lucas died this morning. I was the one who had to call our team doctor to let her know, and to say the least she was surprised. My response was to write. Is to write.

Do we have to make sense out of everything? No, because it's impossible. There are too many things way above our pay grade, and that's a good thing.

For this reason I said that they "can" be connected, the healing of the body and the healing of burdens in our lives (such as sin), not that they are connected. At least not always.

But I will say this, the healing from sin is so much greater than the healing of the body. I am currently unable to fully empathize, as I have been recently given a clean bill of health after another check up on my knee. I am ecstatic that I can return to jogging and eventually running again (with a knee brace, to be on the safe side!), but then it was brought to home with a conversation I had just last night with another OM team member.

He was working this summer in the hospital, providing food for the various patients. He told me first about the many awkward encounters he had with those who were naked, or the constant sight of blood which made him queasy. But then he explained how interesting it was to see some patients, dying, and completely miserable. Others, also dying, yet always grateful to receive the food from him. The stark contrast between those ready to die, and those who are not.

Maybe it has something to do with the peace of having lived a full life, because Jesus had come in and healed them of their true pain. Or better said, that they had allowed Jesus to come in and heal them. They believed, and were set free.

Maybe that's it. And it's just skinning the surface of what the phrase "healing in his wings" even means..

love and chau!