C-mail: Three Encounters

Howdy All!

I'm 38,000 feet in the air somewhere above the Caribbean. This aluminum enveloped travel community is comprised of the standard complement of well to do Venezuelans, a few scattered North American tourists, honeymooners and business men while I'm seated next to two friendly Venezuelan women who have the gift to be able to talk and understand each other at the same time. Yet, despite all of our diversity, we are all united in our ambivalence towards our in-flight movie, Race to Witch Mountain. This plane is a completely foreign world to all of my neighbors, but I doubt they're missing much. You probably aren't super envious of my spot either, but I figure I should let you in anyway. In any case, here is the C-mail:

1. InnerCHANGE hosts a 40 day summer missions experience called summerXchange. This year we have four sites: LA, San Francisco, Miami and Caracas. I'm leading the team for Caracas. We start on the 6^th of June in San Francisco for orientation (hence the plane flight) and we finish at the end of July. During our time in Caracas, we'll be focusing our efforts in a community called San Pablito. It's one of the oldest barrios on our side of Caracas and is also featured in the InnerCHANGE video. We'll be doing a kids club twice a week as well as doing visits to get a feel for some areas that are unknown to us. It is a pretty heavy place both in terms of the violence that passes through and spiritual oppression. I would highly appreciate prayer for our protection: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Pray that God's light would shine through us and that His Kingdom would grow there. Also pray for me as I balance leadership for this summer with all the relationships I have in our own neighborhood. Speaking of prayer....

2. I'm feeling led to ask for more intercessors. If you would like to commit to praying regularly for our ministry, our neighbors and myself, shoot me an email.

3. In April, our team had the privilege to host to InnerCHANGE's yearly leader's community. It was a real blessing to get to see a number of these leaders and soak up bits of their experience and wisdom. Still, hosting over twenty some foreigners for a couple weeks is nothing short of formidable. None the less, our team did awesome getting everyone around from the airport and conference site, keeping food rolling, and opening our houses as need arose. I am extremely thankful that everything went well, the logistics came together and everyone had a great time.

4. I'm starting a compost project!!! Our barrio, amongst many, is plagued by trash problems. Many times the city is inconsistent in picking up the trash while the amount being produced is staggering. I've long wanted to try to start something to help alleviate the issue and I finally got up the gumption to go ahead and start experimenting. The goal: find ways to turn organic trash into usable soil in an urban setting (ie, homes with no usable land). I'll spare the technical stuff 'til later, but I'm going to need some time and experimentation to figure out something workable.  Lord willing, I later hope to try composting with a few willing test families later this year.  If all goes well, with a little bit of good ol' community organizing and/or word-of-mouth style campaigning, we can all help to alleviate some of our trash issues.

5.Our team is growing! In early April, we received a new team member: Beth Carter (no relation to me or Jimmy). However, in writing about a new addition to the team, I realize that I've rudely never introduced you to any of our team in first place. So here they are: we currently have six team members, not including three teenagers, a dog, and a cat. The three teenagers, dog and cat belong to John and Birgit Shorack our team leaders. They've been in Caracas for well over seven years now. Adrienne Carlson, KT McClure and myself arrived over a year and a half ago and up until recently, we were the new guys. We also have some more people interested, (including a Venezuelan) but I'll introduce them to you as they come aboard

Well, that's it for now. There's been about a billion more things that have been going on, but this is sufficient for one update. I'll send out another C-mail at the end of summerXchange with a summer summary. Until then, I covet your prayers, I'd love to hear back from you, and let me know how I can pray for you. I might even throw something up on the blog this time.  Till then, Stay strong, seek the Lord and

Press on for Joy!

Cameron

Here are three significant encounters from recent life that have been impactful to me.  Not all of life is this deep, but it's good to look at the highlights from time to time.  These three encounters fall loosely into three currents of life we as InnerCHANGE try to focus on: the prophetic, the missionary, and the contemplative.  I hope you enjoy them.

"Get on your knees." He was right; it was the only way to communicate it to her. She was mute, and quite possibly deaf, but all we could tell was that our previous attempts at gestures and sign language were not being well received.

It was a Sunday and we had brought one of the visiting InnerCHANGE leaders to come to the local church. He's Central American but now ministers in the States with youth in gangs and those coming out of Juvinille. After the service, a woman none of us had met before, came up attracted by his shirt emblazoned with the face of Monsignor Romero.

She began to motion and gesticulate in order to him to show her admiration for the matyr of the americas. In high school, I had seen the movie chronicling his life and death in El Salvador. In order to establish some sort of communication with her, I began to act out how he was shot as he was offering the Eucharist. She noticed me, and nodded in agreement with the pantomime. However, it was just a minute later when she finally noticed that two of the three of us standing there were white, and specifically North American. That's when everything changed.

She began by pointing to our skin, then comparing it to our Central American friend. She pointed to his arms and coloring with a smile, and then pointed to ours with a repugnant face. She then pantomimed us (or someone of our coloring, I should say) walking around, not giving a care about anybody. She acted out a suffering child, begging and going hungry and then after pointing at us, she acted out a person walking past up while turning their nose.

Our Latin friend began to take the initiative to begin the "dialog". He began to point to us and smile, trying to correct her. He put our arms side by side showing the different colors of our skin. He did it with a smile, and drove the point home by giving each of us a hug, and even gave me a big ol' kiss right in the ribs (we have a mild height difference). But she would not be budged. She acted out people shooting other people, and then turning up their nose and primping their jackets as they moved on with a poorly uttered "hmph". I don't know if she had ever met North Americans before or where she got her ideas, but whatever her history and whatever her thoughts, no matter how wrong or right, our responsibility as ambassadors of Christ is to seek reconciliation.

The convenience of verbal communication, regardless of language, allows for the conveyance of a particular message while still communicating something completely different by the word choice, expression, and nuance of the delivery. For example, I can tell you I agree with you completely that chocolate ice cream is better than vanilla, but in the telling, I'm going to convince you that this isn't just a black and white issue. I might even use a little sarcasm in saying that since chocolate is so far superior, it explains exactly why so many stores now days no longer even bother carrying vanilla. There are a million ways to overtly, or even worse, subtly, justify myself in my words . However, that type of justification is simply not possible with actions and crude pantomimes.

So, after clasping our hands in a penitent manner and putting on a sorry face only availed a skeptical look or two, our visiting friend guided us to our knees. We could not offer any defense of "we're not like that!" Nor were there opportunities to share personal stories of how absolutely no North American I know acts like she thought. Instead, we could say nothing. All we had was our silent, prostrated humiliation.

Our friend then interceded for us, stood us up and brought us each individually into a hug with the mute woman. Her face of suspicion melted away after that embrace. She lit up and gestured a question as to whether our friend was staying or not. (Think Napoleon Dynamite happy hands to represent flying away). We arranged the details for him to be able to send her a shirt of Romero and bid our farewells on good terms.

Our friend gave us some advice afterwards. "You guys should bring her a flower next time. And if she turns you down, keep trying to reconcile with her. And if she turns you down again, then keep trying. If you give up, then you're not good missionaries." It's good advice. I haven't seen her since, but some of my other teammates have. She had saved them a seat in church and was overjoyed to see them.

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"Why do you want to live tomorrow? It is because there is some one who loves you, and whom you want to see tomorrow, and be with, and love back. There is no other reason why we should live on than that we love and are beloved. It is when a man has no one to love him that he commits suicide. So long as he has friends, those who love him and whom he loves, he will live; because to live is to love. Be it but the love of a dog, it will keep him in life; but let that go and he has no contact with life, no reason to live." --Henry Drummond, The Greatest Thing in the World.

Although I always verbally disagree with his self degrading opinion, I grudgingly have to admit that Marcos is ugly. His face bears multiple scars, depressions, and swellings framing two yellow, vertically offset eyes. He would win a "face with the most character" contest in a second. But that same face coupled with an alcohol addiction disqualifies him from any serious participation in "normal" society. Today, he sat slumped over on a stump/stool in the "parking lot" where he works directing clients parking their cars and motorcycles.

After noticing my presence, he gets out a mumbled "Hey Shaggy." (with my long hair I've been pegged as the spitting image of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo). We exchange the universal greeting banter, except that when I ask how he's doing, he responds honestly:

"Bad." he says.

"Why is it bad?"

"I don't feel good, I'm sick." He shows me a rubber tube coming out of his abdomen collecting his urine in a bag he keeps in his pocket: they're all leftovers from some complication with kidney stones. "I'm rotting on the inside. I'm just waiting to die and go to heaven . . . I'm here by myself without anybody."

I protest. I remind him that we've been here for him for a while now, and will continue to be here for him. Plus, there are doctors that can help him and treat him. He takes it in stride and continues. "At night, I crawl in my little hideaway, my place on the street and sleep there. The only thing that I have is a rat, you know, like this big (he indicates the length of a decent size rat). Every night it comes and sleeps with me. It crawls in there and curls up right on top of me. I don't know why it does that, but it keeps me warm and I keep it warm. That's the only friend I got." It's tragic, but we joke about it a bit, figuring out names for his pet.

My teammate KT met Marcos in the market place just down the hill from where we live about two months ago. Ever since, our team has been dropping by individually as we pass through there to say hi and give him encouragement. When I first met him, he had been helped out by some local evangelicals who were trying to connect him with a rehab program. He went to their church a few times, but for one reason or another he stopped going and lost contact with them. None the less, the experience left him with a question: What exactly does God feel like? We frequently talk about it in our conversations but I find my own experience of feeling God shallow at best for such a daring and honest inquiry. The very valid and essential lesson of having faith even without feeling God seems lacking even as I continually offer it to him. I'm just glad he's asking the right question: It's one thing to talk about Jesus; it's something completely different to introduce someone to Him. We've all prayed with Marcos and at times he's felt a sense of peace, but it isn't the fullness of what he's looking for. So, as we wait on God, we keep visiting whenever we happen to be there, every two to four days, five to thirty minutes at a time.

"Maybe God doesn't want you to be alone," I offer up "so he's given you that rat. God's sent you that rat to keep you company. And although you can't "feel" God, He's sending you messengers of His love. He's sent you that rat, KT, myself, all of us so that you won't be alone." The idea elicits in him a shrug and an invitation to continue. "I also want to feel God's love the way you do, but sometimes I have to accept and trust that God has sent me people, or even rats, as agents of His love. And even if you don't believe it, Jesus is sending you His love, although it looks and feels different than what we hope for."

Yeah, I know, it sounds a little cheezy and preachy, but somehow God's working through it. Through our friendship, both serious and lighthearted, and God's steadfast love, Marcos' days where he responds that waits to die are becoming less and less. His most frequent response to "Como estas?" is now "mejor!" (better) accompanied by a beautiful, toothy smile. He's been to the doctor and they've been working to cure him as well.  We prayed that day and while praying for Jesus to make Himself real to him, Marcos said he felt a tingling in his hand. I can't say that it was God, but I do know that Jesus is showing Marcos more of Himself everyday. His faith and his life are growing. Where it's going, I honestly don't know, but I do know that the Kingdom of God is taking root in his heart.

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"Let's do something a little different. Let's break up into pairs and pray for each other."  I haven't been for a while so I'm glad to be here tonight. Tuesday night is Holy Spirit night. It's a free time to worship, pray, and receive from God. After a good time of worship, we broke up into pairs and listened before praying for each other. After we had all but finished, I asked if there was a word or anything else God wanted to show me for my partner. I normally don't get words, but this time I got a very clear and distinct word: "cow tongue". It was a weird word to be sure, but after asking what that could possibly mean, I was immediately transported back to a scene from my childhood.

Somewhere in Washington state, my parents and I were walking around a dairy farm. I couldn't have been more than eight at the time. We had wandered (although, anything with eight year olds usually involves direct sprints) into a barn or stable that held some young cows. The classic hay and manure smell permeated the structure. One young cow, too old to be a calf but nowhere near full grown either, caught my attention. I stood facing the cow, his eyes started back inquisitively through the bars designed to separate man and bovine, to ensure that the two should never meet. None the less, with my mom's careful watch by my side, I partially closed the gap between myself and the young cow who had put his head up to the bars. And that's when it started.

The cow slowly, innocently, and more than anything, steadily, began to extend its tongue. Its black cow lips were parted, its head titled so that one dark, black eye could stare directly into mine. All the while, the little pink tip began a slow journey towards an intrigued eight year old. At first, it looked like any old tongue extension: one with the purpose to lick it's lips or nose or both. But as the little-tongue-that-could kept up its direct trajectory, it became a wonder to behold. It unpacked itself like forty clowns jumping out of a VW beetle: you wait for it to be over, but it just keeps coming. Reason, logic, experience, even your own tongue bears testimony that it has to stop, right now, no now, I mean now . . .that this just isn't physically possible. And yet, the tongue just kept coming. My unbelief was expressed by my mom's stifled yelp of shock. Thankfully, her yelp phased me out of my tongue induced hypnosis and I was able to jump out of the way of the impending lick. Even after my jump back, the cow didn't give up and gave the tongue a few more seconds of unchecked growth before retiring it's head from the bars.

I wasn't scarred from the experience, but it was one that has obviously stuck with me. Thus when I heard "cow tongue" and the associated story, I knew exactly what it meant. I think it was a word for me than for my partner but I shared it with him anyways. Personally, I often unquestioningly fall in to living as if God is finished, that there is no more to expect, to receive, that what I've seen is enough, that I can't reasonably expect to see him grow anything else around or in me. I certainly would never claim to believe that, but I end up living like that somehow. However, the love of God is just like that cow tongue, it will keep growing and extending, well beyond what anyone could ever imagine or believe to be realistic. And, it will reach you if you let it. Just don't mooove out of the way (sorry). So here's to expecting and waiting for more of Jesus and more of Him within us. Until we are complete in Him and with Him, stay strong, expect more and more from Him and

Press on for Joy!

Cameron