Photo of the Week...5.28-6.4

As you walk down the concrete-cracked steps to The Hole many things pass through your mind, especially if it's your first time there.  The houses are brimmed with rusted, tin roofs and the children are missing shoes.  Stray dogs scurry from drain to drain hoping a good second-hand meal might make its way to them.  Old men sit in groups, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, drinking rum through missing teeth.  Not exactly the place you'd go to find hope, or even a friendly handshake.

Every time I make my way to the bottom of those unending stairs I can almost feel the weight of this place burdened heavy on my back.  Like, even if I came feeling light and free, I'd take on cargo just by walking this first stretch.  Fortunately, like in every good drama or iconic story, there's a turn, a fork in the road that changes the seemingly dark, presumed ending.

At the first left-turn, the view changes.  Kids that were previously sitting on the concrete bench in the alley, light up at their first glimpse of you.  Running into your arms, giving you high fives, hugging you with a force beyond their own strength...it's magical.  And I have to fight back tears almost every time, not understanding how they could love so much with receiving so little in their own worlds.

As you drag your posse of kids along with you, curious neighbors step out of their homes.  The woman dressed scantily, lots of piercings and tattoos, lots of emotional scars.  The man with half-opened eyes, perched at his doorstep, trying to sleep off the night before.  The teenager with the severely baggy pants, wearing his mask of "street cred" covering up the scared little boy behind it.  Each of them with their own hang-ups, still wishing they were a kid so they, too, could jump into someone's arms and feel loved again.

Just ahead you see the steps to the Cuerpo de Cristo church that was built next to a roaring river of trash, sewage and debris.  Hardly visible is a man sitting there with a swarm of kids around him.  As you move closer he raises his head and you see him clearly.  Gentle eyes, warm smile, good heart.  His name is Rafael.

A place like The Hole hardens people.  Some may say it's a good way to protect yourself, to not let yourself feel.  The horrible things that happen daily there would leave one in a coma if they allowed themselves to be vulnerable to it.  But where so many others have gained hard lines on their faces from years of life leaving them, Rafael exudes grace.  His face remains untainted by the remnants of despair all around him.

He's become a brother, a friend, a place of refuge for the kids who have no father figure to turn to.  He hugs and twirls and bends down low if he has something important to say.  He talks with worried mothers and lost teenagers and questioning toddlers...and to me, when I'm all fired up about another young girl in the community who's gotten pregnant.

I imagine that Rafael carries some of the same burdens the rest of the people in The Hole do but somehow he transforms it into a smile.  Not a forced one, or a fake one, but a real, genuine smile that puts people at ease, kids and adults alike.  His job is not an easy one, and some days he looks rugged with exhaustion, but he chooses joy.  He chooses grace.  He chooses kindness.  He may not have chosen this path that he is on but there is one thing that is very clear to me...

...God chose him for it.

Photo of the Week...5.21-5.28

 

My perspective was different than most everyone else.  From the front of the room I saw neutral-hued hands lifted high, the glory of God filling the place.  Four countries represented, one hundred and eighty chairs filled with people unified by international partnership.  Voices of every tone, many tongues, one language -- worship.

I believe with all my heart that God knew exactly what He was doing when He placed sound in our voice boxes, music in our souls.  He knew that for most, just words preached or hands clenched or eyes closed wouldn't be enough.  That song would bring Heaven to Earth, washing unending love and grace over His people.

I could hardly make out my own words as tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, down my reddened cheeks.  "How Great Thou Art" echoed into our ears, strengthened our cause, unified our hearts.  In that moment, as some sang in English, others in Spanish and Creole, I could feel a glimpse of the Eternal Home so many of us long for.

Some wept and some smiled, while others swayed their burdens away.  You could feel His peace, sweeping through a chilled conference room that has perhaps previously hosted weddings or business meetings.  But this night, at this hour, it was God's Temple.  A place where people gathered and were reminded of God's awesome power spanning into our troubled world.  If only for a moment, all pain, sorrow, troubles -- vanished.  If our souls could carry us, we may have lifted from the ground.

There is something indescribable about community, regardless of race, language or background.  As this broken world continues to struggle, emerge by its lonesome, we found something that night that binds and bonds.  God's ultimate redemption plan laid out for all to see through the thankful words of adoration to a Father who adores His children. 

How Great Thou Art, those words have healing power.

Photo of the Week...3.9-3.16

If you hop in a van and take a short ride from our neighborhood you enter a small community just on the outskirts of town.  Structured buildings and street vendors turn to cow pastures and wooden shacks. The road is chaotic with potholes and loose pieces of concrete -- a reminder of its out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere status.

When arriving at so many barrios on this island I almost always have to take a deep breath in and prepare myself for the heartache that festers in me long after I leave.  Los Perez is not one of those places.  Although the signs of poverty are everywhere, a sense of peace lingers still.  I don't know if it is the humble people that live in the community, the rickety path you have to take to enter it or the laid back personalities of the children...but whatever it is, it is good.

I never feel anxious or worried about what will greet me.  In fact, I know there is one face that I will always look forward to seeing.  I've never met anyone that smiles with their whole self like he does.  He is never short on hand shakes or hugs and he always responds to a simple "how ya doin'" with "todo uva" or our version of "just peachy."

He knows every child in his nutrition center by their first and last names and knows where each of them lives.  He always starts their mealtime ritual by teaching the kids scripture.  I have witnessed first-hand, 70-some children re-sighting bible verses that most adults wouldn't even attempt.  He excitedly points out an 11-year old girl who has memorized 34 scriptures and counting.

Pastor Nico grew up in the church and always felt a real connection to God.  He watched his own father preach from the pulpit every Sunday.  He recalls a woman in his father's church who would always entice him to come to sunday school with the promise of a piece of candy.  It was that candy that kept him coming back.  It was that candy that brought him to a place where he heard God's word.  It's because of that candy that he knew God was calling him to be a pastor.  Nico started his ministry in Los Perez with that very same type of candy.  He knew that all he would have to do was get the kids to the church and God would do the rest.

And the kids came.