Treks are good: they often help one slow down and breathe, reflect and see reality in a clearer way. This, at least, was the way I felt as we hiked up La Travesía, pushing ever further in the heat of the afternoon. I felt so free and energized; it was great to get away for a while. Catching a glimpse of the enormous green valleys, endless winding red paths and radiant sun rays breaking through the clouds, I was forced to ponder the greatness of our earth, which is only a speck of dust in the vastness of space. Then, throwing down my pack in the shade to take a short break, a stunning flower caught my attention: its sapphire petals seemed to spin harmoniously and fold dynamically within one another- and the leaves! The tiny details God had put into each vein and tributary upon the miniscule face of this plant was incredible. Creation is staggering on any scale.


We ascended the final slope, affectionately known as the Saca Lengua (or stick-out-your-tongue) because of how hot, dry and steep it is. As we approached the humble mountain-village, we could see many people out working: drying coffee beans out in the sun, gathering bananas and stuffing them into burlap sacks and riding mules laden with belongings. Others were enjoying some music from their radios or simply sitting in front of their brilliantly painted, creative houses. Later that evening, as the sun set and cast a dramatic, God-painted lighting across the landscape, I opened my Bible to reflect on the genealogy of Christ, and something titanic hit me; it made me sit still in my chair. I suddenly felt I had grasped some of the magnitude of what God is doing in history- in our world.

In the monotony and dryness of everyday life it is easy to sink down into a sort of discontented self-obsession. Day after day I heard people saying: Where have you been at? Are you avoiding me? You’ve been lost lately, man. You’ve abandoned me as a friend. Why don’t you visit my house more often? This, of course, is the way Dominicans relate, but initially you get the impression that everyone around you is disappointed with you. I had reached a point of such egoism that my lack of popularity made me feel ready to give up. What’s the point of even trying? I cried out loud one afternoon.

But an existence where everything revolves around oneself is slavery and anguish. It embraces such a small, limiting view of life that it inevitably ends in anxiety, fear, regret and depression. I suppose the ultimate tragedy of such a mentality is that it distances us from God, because the moment we approach him we must wake up from our arrogant little dream. We essentially have two options: die to ourselves or die because of ourselves, and as I pondered all of this atop God’s wondrous crossroads (this is the meaning of La Travesía) I realized I had encountered a previously undiscovered wonder, mystery and romance- all by feeling small.

Thank you LORD, I said, for the chance to haul a heavy log laboriously uphill- a joyous challenge-, thank you for the warmth we enjoyed at night as we worshipped around the fire, thank you for your daily grace: for the sunrise, a cool breeze, lemons- better yet, lemonade, thank you for the chance to walk far and share your gospel, thank you that you have called me friend. The beauty of everything around me tore me away from myself and caused me to appreciate that which is bigger.

The flame I felt in January sunk down, but the embers kept burning even underwater, and my faith endured like a submarine, surfacing anew into God’s light, beholding his shining face and finding that mine shone as well. God’s glorious faithfulness has prevailed over all. As I end this entry I am brought to contemplate the unshakable nature of Yahweh, and as I do so I am reminded of Rod Davis- with a mouth full of chewing tobacco and speaking in broken Spanish- expounding on grace and the Keys of the Kingdom; the Identity of Christ. Jesus is the Son of the living God, the Champion of the world, the Branch that has flourished and brought hope, the Gate, the Path and the Destination; on this rock he has built his Church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.

“Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea;

reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite.”
-G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

It is interesting how, when life begins to fall apart and things amount to a state of turmoil, that we as humans seek to find reasons. There must be something we have done, or failed to do, that has caused all this turbulence in what was once a calm, ordered, peaceful existence. We desperately look back to find a place where we may have erred and brought on these strange circumstances, but we are often left scratching our heads. This, at any rate, has been my struggle to interpret my current situation.

Our family has been assaulted lately by lies, frustration, insults, threats and even seeing Antonio- who I know to be a lovable man- put in prison. I personally have been struggling with a sense of meaninglessness and depression. Although distance from God may have been the original cause of both of these occurrences, considering we are not living in harmony with the reality of our Creator, I feel there has been something more profound at work.

Initially, I would not have suggested the possibility that Jesus is behind and in and through all of this, but the other night I felt a forceful realization come upon me: He is Lord of the Storm as well. I do believe Christ has a purpose for bringing such things about. He has torn me away from my idols: things I have centered and built my life on, that give me meaning, self-worth, joy and security. In the midst of crashing waves, I have begun to see a sense of my helplessness, my weakness- my lack of control.

Why is it that I constantly try to carry the weight of the universe on my shoulders, suggesting that I design and determine my own fate solely through my own actions? For that is what I assert when I scrutinize and analyze my past for failures: perhaps if I has just done this or that right, if I had followed the formula, things would never have come crashing down. But my house was weak from the start. Assuming control of one’s life sounds liberating until one realizes that it is ridiculous; it drives one into fear and religiosity and a skewed image of who God is. We were never meant to take that position; the Lord is Sovereign.

So as the waves came rushing over me and rain pelted furiously down, I began to see the futility of my Narcissism. It was as though I was clinging anxiously to a lonely life raft, bouncing precariously in the midst of an unyielding tempest. In my severe lack of power, I saw God’s glorious ship floating by- tall and unshaken- the only way to shore and safety!

Jesus, in an undermining wisdom, showed me that my problems were beyond me; he is a Holy, Powerful Teacher. He didn’t minimize the storm, he simply maximized himself. He was broken to see me so unstable, being blown around and thrashed in a merciless downpour. “Come aboard, quick!” he cried out. “Yes, you will lose control, but I’ll be your captain. Wait until you see how firm it is up here!” As I reached my hands out to him in prayer last night, looking to his refuge to see me through, I was reminded of a similar instance in John 6. “Do not be afraid,” I heard a voice say, “ego emi: I am.”

Wordless.
At this moment I struggle to condense or confine my experience down into black and white English letters. Amid this maelstrom of thoughts and issues and ideas I search, struggling to encounter coherence and clarity, but it often evades me. Yet I choose to trust God- even now, in the center of a storm of emotions and passions and disordered longings- knowing that his knowledge of me surpasses my own.

I mentioned in an earlier blog that things find their meaning as they relate to Christ. This, I feel, has been one of many powerful themes; one which has continued to collide with me throughout countless stages of my journey. We are found in [God] was how my cousin, Darin, phrased it.

Jesus is the designer- the carpenter- of the world. He laid everything out with wisdom and logic. Humans have thus wrestled with the enormous underlying why, rising up from the depths of our being- at times with a pitiless revulsion like bile and at other times like an animating flame or an adventurous spark- but nonetheless relentless and echoing. This question, for me as well, has been insistent and crucial- not only on an abstract, theoretical level but on a daily, practical, concrete level. Why go for a jog today? and Why was I created? resound inside my head with equal urgency.

Both of these needs, I am continuing to discover, are met in Jesus. That is, the need for deep hope and fulfillment of the profound questions and the need for meaning and importance even in the seemingly inconsequential questions. The amount of sense Jesus gives to my big picture leaks into every small action and menial task; it is thorough.

Letting Jesus become the answer has been like a bridge for me- bearing me onward, slowly and precariously, over yawning chasms of fear, anxiety, depression and hopelessness. We are trekking on, and through God’s relentless faithfulness I am learning to be equally forceful in my trust of him, even embracing the brokenness he throws my way. The hardness of God is kinder than the gentleness of men, it has been said. So I will continue to put my faith in his sovereignty, though I cry out from a valley of communal destitution for healing, yet I will confide in him.