I walked slowly along a path, the same path I had walked down a hundred times before, yet this time it was different. The sun was beginning to set, and looking around at all the trees and clouds I was reminded of their Source. I thanked Jesus for the beauty of his kingdom and the opportunity to be his disciple. I praised him for his centrality, his beauty, his glory! I prayed that he would help to to move past my prides and fears and idols- knowing well that the path before me is long. I thanked him that I can be so honest with him, and that he is patient with me. It was a walk of reconciliation with my Father, I felt, and by the time I reached Rod's house it seemed as though I had reached a mountaintop.

A relationship with God is funny in this way: nothing physically phenomenal may have occurred on the outside, and yet everything may have changed profoundly on the inside- even through something as seemingly insignificant as the same boring walk my feet have made countless times over the past three months.

So, my computer has had rather a rough go of it lately. I just fixed it yesterday, in fact, and it has been sixteen days since my last blog entry. Accordingly, I have over two weeks of stories to share, but let me try and sum it up a little. Basically, I have received an overwhelming sense that God's silence is not absence; that his inaction is not ignorance. It is idleness to the blind, but wisdom to those who see Christ- the light of the world.How will I explain this? Let me give you a picture of where I live.

Maria Auxiliadora is unlike any barrio in the world, I think. Perhaps it is a mixture of the tremendous business and calmness; the bright colors and unsightly piles of garbage. I mean, I know there are a lot of barrios like that, but there is a unique vitality and alive-ness that is not to be found anywhere else. Right in the heart is the school where I work, gray walls rising defiantly into the skies, seeming to challenge the heavens. From here it is almost impossible not to hear two or three songs playing at once; to see dogs roaming up and down the streets and children steering bike tires tumbling over rocks or careening around people. To add to the action, the community is full of motorcycles and mopeds, at times awkwardly wobbling along, laden down with bags of bread or tanks of gas. Nearby is the 'cancha' or court, a perpetual game of basketball. Youth will play even until the stars come out, crowning the skies with glory. The barrio lies right in the middle of a valley: lush, green and filled with trees, looming upon the hillside. Spanning the gap are power lines, adorned by tattered kites made from garbage bags or old t-shirts. It is an incredible contrast of beautiful and awful; redemption and destitution. At times I am blown away by the splendor of it all, at other times I am ready to cry at the dark truth of oppression. Maria Auxiliadora is ever-surprising, ever-engaging, ever-changing. Yet, most surprising of all, I have felt the sense that God's hand is over this place.
On the twelfth of this month I was playing football in the field near my house when, suddenly commotion hit. Dogs began to bark wildly and everyone around began to shout "policia!" My eyes darted to the road nearby, and I saw a train of police SUVs, motorcycles and armored SWAT trucks rolling ominously forward, scattering everyone. Children bolted away on their bikes or into the arms of their mothers. The men bounded up dirt roads into the hills, darting in and out of sight as they wove between houses. Before long, though, the police had several cornered, dragging them back down forcefully and loading them into their trucks. The SWAT team proceeded to spray their captives with plenty of pepper spray, dumping water on their heads and laughing about it, asking if the victims wanted more- a fearful abuse of their authority. Violent coughing followed and the men pressed their shirts into their eyes, turning their heads away. As I stood peering through the fence, a tall SWAT officer- black from head to toe, covered with armor, and carrying a heavy machine gun- looked my way. "Hey you," he said. "Are you playing football, or what?" "Yes," I replied. "Well, let's go and play then," he answered. "Get out of here." I walked slowly away; I had never seen anything like this in my life. Once we were well out of earshot, my friend whispered gravely: "The SWAT come to kill."

I thought long and hard about it all; about the injustice. They will take people who appear poor and ragged, supposing they must be thieves. They will also take people dressed in nice clothing; supposing they must be involved in the drug trade.

In the midst of all this, I have been looking at the story of Joseph. It points to the wonder of God's redemptive love, and how he is always at work, even or especially when he seems to be inactive. Joseph was sold as a slave, yet he saved his family. How counter-intuitive is that? Yet, more strikingly, it points to Jesus- the ultimate Joseph. Joseph was rejected by his brothers; Jesus came to his own and they betrayed him. He, like Joseph, was stripped naked- sold for silver- and from the bottom of a cosmic cistern he cried out to God, yet for one dreadful moment in history, was not heard. And, in the same way, it brought salvation; though not just physical salvation- whole and eternal salvation. He lost his Father's coat, that we might be clothed with the righteousness of God. I've probably gone on too long, but this is just beyond finding out- it's so awesome!

So, then, God has a wise plan to work liberation and glory into the lives of those he loves. Though the pain is all too real here, and though the church is struggling, and though fruit seems far away at times- I can look to Jesus and find hope in him.

This week has been a highlight. Jesus has been working so tangibly around me lately; I’m in a place of thankfulness and revelation. Looking into the book of Luke, the gospel has become to me as clear as ever. There are so many unexplored, undiscovered and beautiful aspects of scripture; so many perspectives and applications- it excites me. I can look at everything within and see that it points to Christ, “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”

I’ve had this sense of profundity lately; that things truly are dynamic, that the kingdom is growing, that there is hope. In the reality in which I find myself it is not always easy to think this way. Religious oppression, destitution, desperation, fear, mistreatment, preoccupations, misplaced priorities, and worldliness are the first words that come to mind. But hope? Hope?

Firstly, on Monday afternoon I witnessed the passion of my friend Anthony. This man has a vision to be in ministry as a full-time evangelist and it was awesome to hear where his heart is at. He desires to share in a community of believers, making disciples and impacting the community. We spoke at length over the centrality of Christ in the Bible and as he applies to our lives. It was absolutely inspiring; by the end I think we were both awestruck and driven by the love of Christ. A new fire was set blazing. This is where power starts; in the realm of the spiritual. Everything we see around us, after all, is the product of spiritual ambition. It is the most powerful force we know. This seed of determination within Anthony is hope indeed.

Secondly, I have started playing recreational football in the field near my house. The first day it was six of us, then fifteen, then over thirty. That things have grown like this in one week also spells out hope quite clearly to me. I say this because often the youth in this barrio find nothing better to satisfy themselves than drugs. I see this as a ministry opportunity; being able to enjoy this awesome sport together, encouraging, teaching and congratulating- displaying a joy and a love that transcends drugs altogether.

Thirdly, I have been discipling under a sixty-year-old Dominican man, who has hope written all over him. It has been really eye-opening to see his perspective; I have seen the trans-cultural nature of Jesus’ message through him. His real name is Pedro-Antonio, but he is better known as Moreno (dark man) or Boso (moustache). They have really descriptive nicknames here. Anyway, his outlook is contagiously hopeful. I mean, all of his hope is staked on Jesus; he is full of the assurance that God will bring to completion all that he has promised. He speaks of restoration and reconciliation as things that are currently happening, not as things that will come to pass in one short day when Jesus shows up again. Every time we study together, the encounter ends with an unshakeable sense of the solidity of God. What he did for us can never be taken away or destroyed; worries fade when we consider his sovereignty. We can rest in him; he is our Rock- the Hope of the Nations.

Even as I was praying alongside the believers in the El Camino church, I had this overwhelming thought enter my mind: ‘I will make all things new. Even now there is hope.’ That was all God had to communicate to me. I spent the rest of the night exulting in joy, contemplating the glory of Jesus, which will soon cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. Wow.

I know that Jesus is really touching my heart with the fullness of the gospel. This week I have had a good deal of time to contemplate the greatness of God, and I feel like I’m at a point where the Lord is starting to fill many more aspects of my thoughts and actions in daily life. I’ve been thinking about the true, all-encompassing and revolutionary nature of God’s Kingdom; about how it breaks down barriers and creates unity; about how it always moves past simple actions and straight to the heart and the soul. Practically speaking, this has led to a deeper compassion for those around me.

Boys in the barrio of Los Pomos

There are thousands of people in this community- hungry and searching for something. It’s clear. Some can be seen drinking or just trying to forget about the pain- about how poorly they’ve been treated- while others seek reconciliation in churches, while still others have sunken into a bitter, complaining state- though still desperately needy. Especially some of the teens have built up such strong walls of personality that it is literally impossible to talk about anything serious. Others curse God for their terrible situation, thinking he has abandoned them. It is hard to see.

Yet the desire for fulfillment remains. I mean, on Saturday I read Romans 5:1-7 to my friend Marcos and he just took it in like delicious, soul-satisfying truth. We went on to talk about the tremendous implications of this relatively small passage and, yeah, it was awesome. I praise God for it.

I praise him for everyone he has brought into my life. I have one friend, Cristino, who is suffering so severely from diabetes (and doubtless other problems) that he is literally shriveling up. Since February he has grown so insubstantial he can barely move on his own and he has open sores all over his legs- causing him pain every moment of the day. He is forty-three but he looks like he’s about seventy. He’s losing his vision and his hair is all white; a man of suffering. To see him like this brings me grief, but I make every effort to visit him and just share liberating truths from the Bible, because he is unable to leave the house and has very few Christian brothers supporting him in his struggle. Yet how powerful it is to see him praising, trusting- even giving thanks to the Lord Almighty, Creator of the heavens and the earth! My mind is blown away and my situation brought into perspective by this brave man.

Cristino in February

I think I’m starting to do what Tracy referred to as “finding oneself in this culture.” It will be hard parting when I leave. But for now I am just living in the Word; loving what Jesus is doing in my life and how his Spirit is working through me to impact others. It’s funny how, when it comes time to talk about profoundly Christ-centered topics I am suddenly able to speak Spanish with much more fluency. Words just flow out of me- like God is using me as a vessel for his truth. On Friday I explained to a friend the ideas of God’s transcendence over time and his supremacy as it relates to his incarnation into earth with perfect clarity, answering his questions with wisdom that I knew wasn’t my own. Afterwards he explained excitedly how he understood; how he now saw God in a new way. He thanked me and I thanked the Lord- “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen.”

My friend Jonathan