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.