Global Urban Trek Lima 2006: Follow Up

Howdy All!

Well, I got back from a brief trip to Lima on Wednesday and I figured I ought to share it with you all since you've all been there. I'm shamelessly copying my friend's brilliant travel log in the format I'm presenting the trip. (I'm even shamelessly copying the phrase "shamelessly copying" in reference to the writers he shamelessly copies.) Finally, I'm really bad about taking photos. I really should have taken a lot more, and more of relevant subjects but I'm sharing what I got. With that, here we go:

Being an American in Venezuela brings the cursed blessing of having to leave the country every three months to renew a tourist visa. Since we all got to know Lima and some Peruvian folk about a year and a half ago, and since I was seriously missing the food, the decision to go to there was pretty easy. However, getting the trip meticulously planned out in great minutia didn't quite happen. Actually, aside from a plane ticket and a lunch with Chris Conti, I didn't have anything planned out.

None the less, I arrived at Lima with little to no problems by 2 in the afternoon on Saturday. I figured I'd try the AGEUP house to see if anyone was there, and see if they had any space to stay a few nights thanks to a tip from Eli. Unfortunately, I didn't have their address, only a phone number Eli had sent. I managed to find a map of Lima and all the sectors online. I was pretty sure that the Chinese church we stayed at, which I remember being somewhat close to the AGEUP office, was in the sector of Pueblo Libre. Pretty sure. Later I remembered that there was that park we walked by that had the face of Jesus carved in the tree. I had a slight inclination that the park might be named Parque Bolivar. There are probably a billion Parque Bolivars in Caracas alone, not to mention all of Latin America or Lima. But, it was what I had to go on and worth a shot.

At the airport I asked a taxi driver if there was A Parque Bolivar in Pueblo Libre. And miracle, there was! So off we went. I think we all remember that the drivers in Lima are crazy. At the time, I figured that it was that way everywhere outside the states. Now after being to three other countries outside the US, I can easily say the craziest drivers are in Lima. We drove a bit and nothing was looking familiar. Then everything looked familiar which really made me doubt if I had hit the right spot. Finally, we passed a park, and then another park with a sculptured head of Bolivar the size of my bedroom. Low and behold, it was the one.


If you're wondering what's up with that smiling paper drawing stuck in Jesus' braid, you'll need to ask Markietta from Dana's 5th Grade class. He shows up in a lot of pictures.

Thankfully I had found "the place" without yet finding "the place". I spent the next hour and a half walking around trying to find the AGEUP office. It really felt like that one day in orientation where we had to go and find the park, the Jesus carving above, the AGEUP office, then the smoke detector price (I didn't bother to check this, there were slightly more important things to do). I remembered the office was really hard to find, and so only after crisscrossing the whole area for an hour did I finally decide to give in an call the number I had. I was off by 12 blocks and I headed over and found the correct street. It is amazing how the neighborhoods all look the same. They are really nice too. I kind of felt like I was in the states. There were a lot of pet dogs, but not like adopted street dogs. No, these were pure bred, small lap dogs, ie. Schnauzers. I even saw a number of signs like....



The glare is a little bad, but the sign says: Whatever your dog does is your responsibility. Avoid the Fines. Pick up their solid waste! That would be a useful sign here in the barrios.

So, I managed to find the AGEUP house and upon entering . . .

Whoa! Did you guys switch hair? Actually I took this picture later, since Nemo and Pilar (Civil Engineering student girl that joined us later in the trip. She's in the picture at the top) were there when I came in. Cesar was upstairs sleeping/recovering from Dengue. They along with some other students were there doing some national planning stuff for AGEUP. Pilar was gracious enough to ask me if I was staying there and I gladly accepted. I went upstairs, caught up with Cesar and rested a bit. Later that night they invited me to a wedding. I didn't know the people getting married, nor did I have anything nice to wear. Cesar's shoes didn't match his suit so he decided to go casual, and one of the other students going didn't have nice clothes with him either. So, what the heck? I went.

The wedding was held in a small church between a Pollo a la Brasa restaurant and a hardware store. The neighborhood was in total darkness when we arrived. One of the groomsmen was in the middle of the street, trying to throw an electrical chord onto the power lines to get the power back on. I didn't understand what he was doing until he succeeded and the weight of the cord (still in his hands) brought two power lines together, and all the lights came back on.

The wedding and journey there and back was an excellent time to catch up with Cesar, Nemo, Pilar and a number of other students I hadn't met before. I forgot how funny these guys are. Like really funny. Cesar was talking all through the wedding which I found hilarious, even though we were talking about serious stuff. (Serious like theology serious). I was also struck by how nice the Peruvians are. The culture here in Caracas is very harsh (think stereotypical New Yorkers on a bad day), and I really do love it and it is starting to wear off on me. However in Peru, everyone is very accommodating and friendly. A random guy I met in a restaurant the last day I was there led and accompanied me to the airport of his own good will. That's hospitality.

The wedding went alright although there wasn't any dancing to speak of, but it was a good time over all simply to hang out, hear about life, and eat amazingly delicious chicken. Pilar is still studying Civil Engineering and has about two years left. I think she's also the President of AGEUP. Cesar and Nemo are still studying anthropology at the University in Cusco and hope to get a masters with a focus in missions. They are hoping to eventually find undiscovered people groups in the Amazon and live with them and develop a proper native theology. All our theology mostly comes from the stream of dead white guys. Having a native/indigenous theology is really cool and a much welcomed and needed voice. I hope they can do it.

The next day in the AGEUP house, I woke up to take a shower and:

Irony: Spending three weeks in Peru without ever taking a warm shower; spending three months in Venezuela without ever taking a warm shower; the first morning back in Peru: taking a warm shower. It felt so weird, like I was getting a shower in soup. I honestly didn't like it, but I still did it.

I met up with Chris Conti for lunch that Sunday. I didn't bring my camera, but she's doing excellent and is very happy to be living in Peru and is confident that it is where she is supposed to be. I think you all get her updates so I won't say much else. We ate Lomo Saltado; it was divine. In fact, all the food I ate was amazing. I met a guy from the Checz Republic during a unfortunate side trip to Panama. He's quite the traveler, but came to Peru this time just to eat. I don't blame him, that's half the reason I went as well.

Later that afternoon I ran into Jaime (again didn't have my camera on me.) He's also doing very well, but he was very tired. He had been up translating at church for some short term group and had been showing them all around. Translating and watching over a group of foreigners is hard work. You never actually realize it until you're on the other side doing the showing around. Jaime's currently working down in Pisco, one of the towns majorly affected by the earthquake. He's using his architecture abilities to show the people how to rebuild their houses out of locally available and inexpensive materials. The problem is, the people have a huge process to go through before they can get funds from the government to build their houses. There have been a lot of questions as to where the funds have gone, or not gone as is the case. The situation is still pretty dire down there with lots of folks without housing, and more donations aren't going to help at this point. But Jaime's at work and doing an amazing job from what I hear. Also, thankfully its summer there and the weather is rather warm. And that's why Lima built this:


I wish I had taken this picture, but I found it on the web. (I forgot my camera again, but Nemo has some pictures if I ever get in contact with him). This is now, the biggest fountain park/complex in the world; thirteen fountains in all. One has really cool images splayed on it and some with lasers and some are interactive and some you walk through and some are a little overdone, but really, really awesome overall. If you go to Lima again, you have to visit. And bring a towel just in case. Cesar, Nemo, Pilar, a number of other students and myself explored the park until way to late, tried to find dinner, got separated in the process, reunited walked the streets looking for food on a Sunday at now midnight and finally found a small burger/sandwich joint (not McDonalds or the like). Again, I was blessed to be able to hang out with them and just felt a strong camaraderie. Being able to understand and communicate probably had a lot to do with it. Hanging out with college students again probably had a lot to do with it. Pilar saying she should marry me probably had something to do with it (the comment came out of left field. We're not involved in anyway that I'm aware of, but still, THAT'S hospitality!). So, it was really sad to say goodbye to them the next day as they all had to leave to their own cities. But they all ask how all of you are doing, what's going on in your lives and were sad that no one's visited them yet. They send all their greetings to all of you and would probably love to hear from you too. For some reason we were under the impression that we had each others email addresses, but I don't think we do. So, if you have Cesar/Nemo/Pilar's info, let me know.

Monday I went up to San Martin and San Antonio. I left later than I would have preferred, but saying goodbyes are important. I got there just before 1 so it worked out. It was nice to make the trip in the day to see the city and the change from the center to the outskirts. The walk from the road to San Martin was nice, but I forgot how long of a walk it was. On the way, at a bluish house on the right, I ran into a guy who was perplexed by my appearance, (like all the people there). I explained where I was going and that I had been there before. He warned me that there were a number of troublesome youth in the area and that they would rob me if they got the chance, especially in the area where they keep the pigs. I figured things must have gone downhill in San Martin, but kept going.

When I got there, the community looked dead. No one was walking around, not even a dog. The community center we built looked a heck a lot nicer with some paintings on the front and AGEUP's symbol on the door. Also there was a new roof of the corrugated plastic variety. I went to Ema's house and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again, and same response. I tried a third time, shouted her name and finally sat down. A minute later, her daughter came to the tienda window and we talked a bit. Ema had left and would be returning at some point. An older woman sauntered up and we talked a bit and caught up. She seemed glad to see me and it was nice to see that there were still people living there.

After about thirty minutes, I decided to see if the playground was still in tact. I walked over (now accompanied by a few small kids) and lo and behold, everything was still there. I had expected the whole thing to be in tatters, but it was in good repair, even the paint. The swing was gone and the bridge was a bit lopsided, but in amazing condition overall. Not even one rock missing from the surrounding pole/fence/mound thing we built. I didn't take a picture since I was still a bit sketched out about the supposed trouble makers. I didn't recognize the kids I was with, but they were content to chat away:

"I bet I can cross! Or, or, I can put my legs in there. (She was on the jungle gym part) I don't like it when my parents fight. My dad drinks and threatens my mom and they fight. He was at the river and said he would kill my mom."
"What!? When?"
"Now. He had a broken bottle and was yelling. Ayyy!! I'm falling!"
I helped her down and she skipped back to the steps to try and cross again.
"Where are they?"
"He's at the river."

Another girl joined in the conversation. Somehow we ended up talking about their folks fighting, how they felt about it, and we did a brief prayer session for their trauma. Right after the prayer, they saw their dad amid the shacks. They took off for their house, the smallest one leading me by the hand. It was only when we got there (the house to the right of Emma's) that they actually acted like little girls and instead of running into battle, they quickly ran away. From what I could see, the couple was gesticulating at each other and I didn't see a broken bottle in the hand of the guy. I wasn't really sure what to do, but Isabel found me just as we arrived. She greeted me with a big hug and smile. I asked her if we should do something for them and explained what the girls had said. She laughed and quickly pulled me away. Aside from a few select cases, that has been the same reaction I've had from almost everyone I've told that story to.

Ema was back at her house. She's doing well. She just had another child and he's only four months old.


Man could that kid fart. Like for a solid 15 seconds and like all babies, he was totally oblivious to it. But he was in good health aside from being a bit grumpy in the heat. I think he's named Nixon, but I could be wrong (I'm really bad with names). Ema brought out the team photo she had of us and asked how you all were doing and what's happened in your lives. I updated her as best as I could and from what I remembered. She then asked what I had brought to give her. I had totally forgot about gifts but after sorting through my empty backpack, I found a flashlight and a small bible. I tried to make up for my failure to bring a real gift by writing her a poem. Isabel got the bible and Ema the flashlight; two forms of light I told them and we had a bit of a follow up conversation on that topic which went pretty well.




I asked everyone there where Brady and Angel were at. From the kids, they said Brady had gone away by himself somewhere south and his family somewhere else. Ema said the family had gone somewhere north and made no special mention of Brady. I don't know how long they have been gone. I also got to see Sr. Lorrenzo (again, not positive on name, maybe its Martin) but he was the guy that helped us clear out that ditch on the last day. Correction: we helped him clear out the ditch. Correction: he pretty much just cleared out the last portion of the ditch by himself. He too is doing well and looked to be in good health and spirits in spite of some pretty dusty clothes.

Ema showed me the community center we had a part in constructing. Another group of gringos, from Colorado none the less, had come and laid a concrete floor and put the new roof on the center. It looked pretty nice. However, as Ema tells it, they just ate sandwiches made from bread from Metro (the big super market there) and never ate anything truly Peruvian. I quickly begged her forgiveness on behalf of our country. There has also been a teacher that has been able to come and teach in the center as well, and also do classes for the adults in literacy. Ema took me past the playground over to the river. I never had been back here before and had no idea there even was a river.

And the beloved pigs too. Ema explained a lot of folks from different areas come and swim in the river. That's why its dangerous on the road. However, they don't enter into San Martin.
"What would happen if they did come here?" I asked Ema.
"I'd kill 'em!"
She seemed to be only half joking. That's NOT hospitality. But defending your community does have value, even if the methods are rather contestable.

We walked back into town, said our goodbyes and I was on my way to track down a mototaxi. In transit, I ran into the two gringo kids and their dad. (the girl was the one that nailed Jonathan right in the Pooh suit.) They were returning from the river in a newer looking van and were totally soaked. The girl really didn't respond to any salutations or questions except at the command of her dad. The boy was mildly friendly and seemed in good health as well. Their dad was very gregarious and I wish I had more time to spend there, but San Antonio was still ahead.

By the time I got up to the World Vision center, it was 4:30 and it would be getting dark by 7. I walked in the center and was greeted by the guard. He gave a huge smile and was very glad to see me again. Unfortunately, I didn't recognize him at all, but it was still great to talk with him. I remembered one of the guard's names was Jose, but this guy was Manuel. He asked where everyone else was, if I was by myself, and how you're all doing. He let me step in the bathroom to freshen up a bit.


Bet that looks familiar. Actually, it was very clean in there. The smell was unchanged and was almost comforting in some sort of Stockholm syndrome manner. Thankfully, I did not have the big D while I was there, but I did manage to get it on Tuesday.

Exiting the bathroom, Manuel conducted me upstairs to talk with the director. Ronald is now working at a regional level in the national office in Lima with World Vision. The new director is very nice and professional. She informed me that this center is actually going to close down in just under two years (Sept. 2009). They've pretty much accomplished their mission here and are now in the process of closing and transferring remaining projects to the community. They also have a main water line so no more relying on the water truck. After talking with her a bit more and thanking her for all the good work and information, I headed up to the track to say hi to the kids.

Somehow one of the kids remembered my name and I remembered almost none of theirs. I don't really know what to say about the kids except that it was cool to see them and they all wanted to see you all. At first they were very shy and didn't respond to any questions but they started to open up after an hour. The overt ones laughed at my Spanish and my use of words that are normal here but that are swear words there (without my knowledge). Jenifer and her brother are still there and doing good. Luis and Jasmine as well. Annie B, I didn't see Leida (was that her name?). The girl that really liked when Emily danced to Jonathon's Ou-Ou song was there too. We sat together, watched a five year old tussle and dance for attention, played a bit of tag, and we briefly visited a family; it didn't go so well but that's another story. Overall, they look like they are all doing great. They all asked for you, where you are, what you're doing, when you'll visit etc etc. Jasmine asked me to sing Victory and then I had to leave. On the way down I saw Jose, the guard, heading up. We talked for only for a second; it was getting dark.

That's the relevant part of the trip. There's a lot more, but I won't bore you with the details except with a parting picture:


Any guesses? Yep, that's the Panama Canal. I didn't want to go to Panama, but thanks to Copa Airlines (Latin Continental), I ended up there for the night. Actually a few hours in the early morning at a resort two hours drive away from the airport. Nice place, but the long travel is a killer late at night. At least I got to cross the canal even if I didn't know it the first time.

Well, all I can say is that both I and Peru miss you all and I hope you all miss Peru as well. At least that's what I told everyone there, and I'd hate to be lying. I know I miss it even though I am very glad to be back "home". But whenever you want to make another trip down there, let me know and I'd be glad to tag along. They'll keep the arroz con leche waiting. Till then, stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron

Dan's the Man!

My friend just messaged me about this: an anime viewing/Christian themed discussion group he's hosting at his church. Apparently the news picked up on it and so have the anime fans. The anime series is called "Haibane Renmei" ("Grey Winged Federation") and follows the story of kids in a town that are birthed as angels; fallen from some previous existence about which little is known. My friend showed me the series and led me through his then accompanying study. I thought it was a great series (confession: I like anime, I'm a nerd! But I'm not addicted, I swear.) and there are many Christian references which are great topics for discussion and further study. I'm personally praying for my friend that this goes really well and that lots of people who might not normally have anything to do with God beyond a personal philosophy level find something solid to chew, wrestle with and come to knowledge of the Only and true God. Pray for it as well!

Re: C-mail: January

Pictures didn't attach, but hopefully they're here now. 

C-mail: January

Well, it's that time: time to write an update. I'm starting to realize that writing an update every month is pretty artificial. Life doesn't always come in month sized bites. Perhaps 40 days is better, a little more Biblical.  40 days of Life to C-mail.  There's a book in there somewhere, although somebody would probably beat me to the publisher.  But for today, I hate to leave you all in the dark, so here we go:

1. Christmas and New Year have passed. Celebrating these holidays away from home was a little odd. Being in a new culture, and having absolutely no possibility for snow made it seem like it wasn't Christmas time. Perhaps it was because I forgot to watch "Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!" None the less, the folks here know how to celebrate and it was really cool to participate. For Christmas, everyone eats hallacas (kinda like a tamale, but wrapped in banana leaves and filled with all sorts of stuff depending on the family and where they're from in Venezuela).  Kids receive gifts from their folks, or Niño Jesús (Baby Jesus), or Santa. Niño Jesús is decidedly more traditional and popular, but the consumerist and very foreign Santa is on the rise.  On New Years Eve at midnight, everybody heads to the street to hug everyone else, say "Feliz Año!" (Happy Year!), and explode the remainder of their fireworks and small munitions. After celebrating all night, everyone turns in to rest for the following week. The morning of the 1st was possibly the ONLY time I've heard sustained silence in the barrio. It was a little eerie to see completely empty streets and lifeless houses.

2. Also amazingly cool was that my teammates threw me a surprise birthday party with a billion kids and neighbors. It was a real surprise and so cool to see such a mix of the community together. In attendance were: the aforementioned billion kids, two evangelical women from a corner store, one of my friends that can't really walk well, one socialist activist/artist and some of the family from across the street. There are some pictures below.

3. Things at the finca (farm/plantation) for the street kids went, eh, good and not so good. On the good side, it was cool to help gather eggs from over 900 hens and clean them. Also, they have a number of coffee plants and all the kids and I got to help pick some coffee, run it through a little hand cranked machine that was supposed to separate the fruit and the seeds and see the coffee go through the rest of the preparation process. The incredible amount of steps involved in making a drink like coffee really makes me ask how in the world anyone came up with the idea. (Ok, ok, I got it: What if, we take the berries off this plant, except only when their red. Then we gotta take the seed out of the berry and let it soak for a day or two. Then, and follow me here on this one, we'll just let it sit and dry. Finally, we toss them in the fire, grind it up and throw it in hot water. But that might not taste that good, so we'll need to add sugar and milk too. How's that sound?") On the not so good side of things, I realized that I don't really know how to discipline/keep kids in order. Parents get a huge advantage in maintaining order with their kids since their kids start out a little more dependent on their support.  So it stands to reason that just showing up for seven days, garnering the respect of a kid that probably really doesn't want to give it to you, and then figuring out how to deal with the resulting chaos is going to err on the humbling side of things. That said, hats off to all the fathers and mothers out there, keeping your kids in check from seriously damaging themselves and those around them. I don't know how you do it, but your much overlooked service is greatly appreciated.

4. Thank you for all of your prayers, thoughts, and gifts over Christmas. I can't do anything aside from what God does and so much of His action flows from your prayers. So please keep praying! Christmas is typically a violent season, and apparently it was in many parts of the city, but in our immediate area, there were no major tragedies, nor acts of violence. That is a huge praise! Also, keep praying for growth in our house church as we look for more people and families to invest in different geographical areas. Pray that God would reveal to us who He is already at work in and that we would be sensitive to His leading.

5. Also, God's been at work in really cool ways through random spiritual conversations all of us on the team have have been experiencing with folks, normally outside the barrio and usually a one time encounter. Personally, it's been great to learn how to talk about Christ, and also within the context of Spanish. Also, with quick encounters I've been blessed to realize that God truly is the one that works in people's lives, well before and long after our conversation; I'm simply present. Pray for a woman named Anna. During a conversation/prayer in the middle of the market, she said she wanted to get off drugs and get back closer and feel God again in her life. She left extremely happy and smiling. I can't say whether she was genuine or not, but pray that God would keep working in her life and be extremely present with her in struggles with drugs and depression.

6. Finally, I'm trying to update the ol' blog more often. I'm hoping to talk a bit about the little things here that make life different from life in the states. Somebody might find it interesting, but I'm sure a lot of it could be incredibly boring.  So I'm putting it there and not here.

Alright, I hope you are all doing amazing and I love to hear from you and what's going on. May God bless you in all ways and all things and may you walk in the goodness He has set before you. Stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron



As the bullet rolled around in his open palm, I began to realize that maybe this man really had recently shot two men.

I've been reading a lot recently. Like thinking, it's a universally encouraged activity, but generally not done.  Or when people do read, it's typically not done with books that would encourage thinking. None the less, I've been blessed during these past few weeks with time to read and think. From various recommendations from friends over the years, I picked up a copy of Blue like Jazz we had around. I read it in three days and it was amazing. Don Miller's writing style is laid back; kind of conversational, as some of my friends have called it. He uses short sentences. He even includes a few cartoons.

One of his themes he continually brings up that of sin. In a world of literature that seems to fall on either the side of pure focus on sin or pure avoidance of sin, it was wonderful to hear his direct thoughts and struggles. Growing up attending church every Sunday, I think I've come to take the putridness of sin, and the consequent offensiveness of grace for granted. I always wondered how many people that had never gone to church actually cared about sin, or what they thought when they heard about it. How many would even know what that word means (Honestly, I can think of a lot of examples of sin, but what truly defines sin, what makes one thing sin and another not sin, I'm not sure if I could say with clarity). Yet, hearing Don's own experience and acknowledgment of sin gave me room to process a conversation I had within the past month.

The setting was the house of one of our friends from the barrio.  It was packed with his friends, relatives and folks from our team. He had invited us for Chinese food as some long chain of extended family and friends blessed him with the acquaintance of two brothers who worked as cooks in a Chinese restaurant. When we arrived, the uncle of these two cooks was drunk. I had never met him before but we introduced ourselves and starting talking. Actually, he started talking and I did a lot of listening and asking questions. He unfolded a story that began with a Korean professor who lived in Caracas, wound its way through three separate cars out from under him within as many years, a few journeys to Colombia and back in search for the cars and robbers and ended at least an hour and a half later with a discussion of starting a new restaurant near his house. Somewhere along the way, he told me when looking for some of the thieves, he had found two of them in a truck in a field in the middle of nowhere, walked up to them, and pulled the trigger. At first, I figured my understanding of Spanish wasn't up to par and that I had misunderstood him, or that I wasn't entirely understanding the story, or if nothing else, he was just drunkenly boasting. But then there was that bullet rolling around in his hand. And then there was his supposed military history as a sniper, and another bullet of a different caliber which he also produced from his pocket a few minutes later.

Aside from the bullets, the story, he seemed like a nice enough guy, friendly and whatnot. He wanted to open a restaurant; he was looking for a new start. I was helping him with some basic ideas which he took with gratefulness and proceeded to pave his future path in the restaurant. Mid-way through his menu and mid-sentence, this inquisitive look sprang up on his face and asked me "What religion are you?". I was taken a bit off guard by the rapid subject change, but replied Christian and that name of the church didn't really mean much. What was most important was to follow Jesus. Jesus said He was the way, the truth, the life and... "And no one comes to the Father but by me!" he exclaimed with a big smile on his face and then gave me a big hug. He explained how his mom was a strong woman of faith: always in prayer, the word, involved with church. He didn't believe in "prophets", ones that would come up and put their hand on your head, as he demonstrated to me. But, he tells his own kids about God makes sure to scuttle them off the church every Sunday. He went on to explain how he appreciated God's judgment. Once when he was tracking another guy down to kill him (I can't remember why) he found the man had just suffered from a thrombosis and half his body was paralyzed. "You're not worth the bullet to kill you! God has already judged you and you're going to live like this the rest of your life!" he told the then newly paralyzed man, his face twisting as he recounted how he spoke to him. Then his face changed again. He felt guilty. He had much shame in his heart, and in explaining so, he moved his hand to his heart with his fingers slightly curved as if he was going to scoop it out. However, his shame wasn't about killing anyone like I would have expected or hoped.  Rather, it was about have three separate cars stolen from under him, once being stripped naked by the robbers off side of the road, and having to walk into town begging for help.

I'm one of those people that think of the right thing to say well after a conversation. That frustration only gets magnified in another language. I don't know if what I said was the right thing to say, but I did say something: I told him he was forgiven, and behind the words, I also meant that I forgave him. I told him God didn't want him to feel guilty but wanted to forgive him. I told him God wasn't glad that he had his cars stolen from him or that he had to walk naked along some road in the middle of night. He returned to expressing his guilt and scooping at his heart when we got interrupted by the call for dinner. Crowd chaos prevented further conversation. He left for his home town far away from Caracas the next day and I've never seen him again.

At that moment, it was easy to forgive him. He hadn't threatened me, nor killed anyone I know. I just met him at get together our neighbor was having. How many stories of murder have I already heard or seen during my life in the channels and cinemas? And yet, I wonder what the mothers, wives, kids of those two he killed would say. We know one mom here who lost her son to murder; she's gone blind from the trauma. I suppose I could try to justify myself in that forgiveness cannot just be talked about, it needs to be given. Or I could say to them in my defense that I had killed people too, but in the sermon on the mount type of murder, or in the "I bought a pair of Nikes once and therefore contributed to the vague, impersonal injustice of workers in a sweatshop somewhere in the world" type of murder. But, in a different way, I'm just as culpable as he is. Like the murderer at the party, I don't feel guilty about those forms of murder; I feel guilty and shamed that I have no idea how to control, discipline, nor gain the respect of an 11 year old that just wanted to test me.

And as ashamed as I feel about how easy it was to say he was forgiven, I have to realize that forgiveness of any form is simply scandalous. Sin of any form is destructive, gross, and robs life only leaving nakedness and shame. I can't defend this man's actions at all; they are horridly and wickedly wrong. That he even "knows" about Jesus but that it hasn't truly worked into his life beyond knowledge into action is beyond frustrating and bewildering. And neither can I defend my own frustration, anger, and participation in injustice.

To forgive, with the full knowledge of how sick sin is, God is doing something beyond scandalous. His mercy extends beyond a bullet in place of paralyzation, but goes on to give life and healing instead. And paradoxically, that life, that new creation, all through one death, one murder.  May that amazing grace work to transform us all, free us from this path of sin, destruction, and shame and instead place us in Christ, in His death and life, walking in His goodness.

"Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus."
Ephesians 2:3-7