C-mail: Actually from Caracas

Howdy All!

Hope you are doing amazingly well! This is the very first C-mail actually sent out from Caracas and Lord willing its bypassing spam filters left and right at this point. If you missed any previous C-mails due to spam issues, and you're really bored, you can find them here. On to the update:

1. I arrived in Caracas late on the 9th (flight was delayed in LA meaning an overnight stay in Atlanta). I've been here three weeks and now feel like I have the hang of life for the most part. I can tread water, and keep my head up to breath, but can't do to much beyond that.

2. I am extremely thankful that I was able to go to Guatemala to study spanish. I am doing so much better in my spanish than when I was here in April. I can actually understand the majority of what the locals say. However, when some people talk I'm lucky to understand one word in a sentence. I can also respond for the most part, but still need to work on the accent.

3. Contact info: I still don't have a phone yet, but Skype is great: UserName is aeroredbaron. Also, if you absolutely must, must mail something you can send it to:
Cameron Carter
CCS 16019, (819)
PO Box 025323
Miami, FL 33102-5323 USA
We pay dearly by the ounce to get mail so huge envelopes and packages are right out. Please save the diving weights and fruit cakes for when I get back.

4. I would love prayer for: Diligence in studying and maintaining Spanish, safety and health (only been sick once!), and for the family across the street (for them and I to have a good relationship, that God would be at work in their hearts and protecting their kids too)

6. So far, life here has been full. We've been planning, preping and running a small school/VBS for some of the poorer/at risk kids in the area. We're going through the 5 senses and how to use those to experience and know God. (Still not sure how taste is going to work out). I've also been working with my neighbors across the street in their metal shop. It's a good place to meet many of the people in the neighborhood that drop by and also a good way to build a deeper relationship with the family.

7. Praise God for all that He is doing here! Seriously, our team and a lot of the people here have been continually protected, directed, and engaged by the goodness of God. One quick story of protection. The sunday before I arrived, the team and some of the house church families were taking a day of rest just north of town in a wooded area with waterfalls. A twelve year old girl from one of the families was near a waterfall when she tripped, and ended up sliding/rolling/falling down about 100 feet below into a pool. Karen of the team was with her just before she fell, was unable to catch her, and watched the whole event play out. The girl ended up face down in the water for somewhere between half to a full minute before someone could get to her and pull her out. She was bleeding profusely from her head, unconscious, but breathing. It took over an hour to get her out of the area and more hours of getting her into a hospital (and even more finding a doctor, bedsheets, machines, liquids, etc.) For the next few days she was thrashing about wildly and looked like she had severe brain damage. However, with lots of prayer and rest, by the end of the week she was almost totally recovered. Now she can walk, talk clearly, think etc. And if recovering from that fall wasn't enough (the doctors said she had been dead for some amount of time, but came back without resuscitation), the friday after the accident when she was talking and thinking clearly, she asked about "the man". She told of a man who helped to break her fall. According to her, she even said gracias to him while she was falling. The weird thing is that no one was there: Karen watched her fall the whole way and didn't see anyone there. Angel, Jesus, ravings from brain damage, whatever you want to call it, I'm just glad to God that she is safe, alive, and in good health.

Alright, there is much to say, but there's much more to do so that's it for now. And you can always check the blog for other updates as well.

Thank you for all of your support and prayers. I miss you all and I hope everything is working for the good in your lives. Stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron




To me, photography is an art of observation. It's about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them. ~Elliot Erwitt

I'd like to think that I try to write in the same way that Mr. Erwitt (I honestly have no clue who he is) above describes a photograph. Some event, or some story that could be rather bland or remarkably normal, is instead somehow imbued with the presence of God, or something profound. I then write about it, trying to cast it in the perfect lighting to bring out the color that inherently resides within it. That's how I try to write these updates.

And then there's writers block.

Truth be told, I can't really find an everyday experience or a story that I can point to and say "Ah ha! That completely illustrates what these past three weeks have been like!" Perhaps that's the point. Life here is really anything but normal. Everyday is something different. Every plan is either flexible or it becomes broken. Full days of planning, learning, visiting, cooking (not a small chore), meeting, speaking, attending, listening, waiting etc. can be followed by rather tranquil days of a few visits and jokes with the neighbors.

However, thankfully, I got an email asking for some info about what I'm doing. It is for a really sweet event put on by InterVarsity at Cal Poly this week, Impact1 (if you're in SLO, go!. If you're not in SLO, pray for it). So, in lieu of the typical story, and in order to try to illustrate what exactly our team is doing here, here are some questions and answers:


What are you doing with your life right now?

Seriously, what am I doing with my life right now? I'm living in a third world slum: I've smelled the trash that piles up at the bottom of the street and never gets collected. I've seen neighbor after neighbor physically abuse their children. I've heard motorcycles, taxis, jeeps, roosters, children, dogs, gunshots, and yells all before 6 in the morning. I've felt metal, concrete, dust, broken glass, torrential rain and spiritual darkness.

and yet...

I've also felt the welcoming embrace and open hands of people I don't know at all. I've seen my neighbors greeting, protecting, providing, and even loving each other in their own way. I've heard music, stories, laughing, and clapping. I've smelled and tasted generous helpings of food given freely even when I was in no position to give anything back. I'm living in Pedro Camejo on the west side of Caracas, Venezuela, seeking the Kingdom of God among my neighbors and friends living here as well.

In more practical language, I'm part of InnerCHANGE, a Christian order among the poor. Our ultimate goal is to establish a thriving house church network that seeks to end much of the violence and poverty our neighbors experience. This means knowing and befriending the ones causing the violence as well as working alongside victims and bystanders in order to ultimately reconcile them. Currently, I'm learning to live, speak the local lingo, meet more and more of my neighbors and start to invest in their lives. That can take place through tutoring/schools, community organizing, or simply spending time together.

How are you using your major to impact the world? Or, did you lay down your major/studies to pursue justice a different way?

At Cal Poly, I studied Aerospace Engineering with a minor in Physics. In my third year, after an interview with Lockheed Martin, I realized I personally didn't feel comfortable building weapons, but rather wanted to work for peace; to help lives rather than help to take them. Here in Caracas, our team has started the Peace Initiative as a means to bring about peace in the face of continual violence. This means a lot of organizing from scratch. Learning how to define problems and work with groups of people in order to address that problem or achieve a goal were skills that my engineering degree prepared me for.

How did God motivate you to change your plans and do this upon leaving CP?

Leading a Bible Study:) My third year, my coleader(Howdy Nathaniel!) and I decided to plow through the Gospel of Luke for the whole year. Through preparing and encountering the radical statements of Jesus about the poor, and His call to forsake ourselves and our things to follow Him, I was opened to hear and experience God's heart for the poor. This led to hanging out with the homeless around SLO, taking the Global Urban Trek to Lima, Peru, and eventually on to Urbana where I met InnerCHANGE, the order with which I'm serving.

What truths have you learned about Him/the world/living a life of Justice?

Way more than I could put down in a few sentences. None the less, here are a few: God is extremely willing to answer our prayers so far and above what we could imagine possible; except, He doesn't work on our own timetable. Second, God is far more organic, wild and foolish than our "wise and knowledgeable" planning allows. Thirdly, the poor aren't cute and cuddly, nor are they merely objects of trite mercy. They are humans, under heavy burdens, but also causing much damage and doing evil of their own accord. In a word, they are sinners . . . just like me. That said, he who is forgiven much, loves much.

Well, that's all for now, but let me know how I can pray for you and I love to hear how your lives are going so feel free to drop a note. Stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron

C-mail; Vignettes of Guatemala

Howdy all!

I hope you have all had an excellent end of summer and smooth transition into fall. I got back from Guatemala a week ago where it felt like winter in California: rain, clouds and sun, except I could see my breath in the 8,000 feet plus altitude. But onto the summary:

1. Guatemala is awesome. It is an absolutely beautiful country, (green like Seattle and corn like Iowa). The country side is dotted with small villages hid among pine trees and corn fields. Instead of flat plains that the idea of corn usually inspires, Guatemala is rather rugged and is filled with hills, valleys, mountains and volcanoes (some active). I was living in the city of Xela which is at 8,000 feet of altitude. Xela is more or less the cultural capital of Guatemala. There are many "parks" and museums which serve as gathering centers for parades and any sort of celebrations. The indigenous population and culture of Guatemala is amazingly rich as well. Many of the Mayan women wear their hand woven and extremely colorful and beautiful dresses yet suffer discrimination for it. The history of the indigenous population is deep. Only recently have many indigenous people who once hid their identity now started to take an interest again in their culture and languages. (In the past, because of severe racism and views of the government against indigenous people, many parents forbid their children to speak any language except Spanish or to wear traditional clothing.)

2. I had an wonderful and valuable time learning Spanish at El Quetzal (pronounced "L-Kate-zal") in the city of Xela. Excellent, small family style school founded by an indigenous lady named Glenda. She really helped my Spanish and put down a solid foundation in terms of grammar and practical usage. I just hope I can keep it up enough between here and Caracas. If you would interested in learning or practicing Spanish, I would highly recommend Xela and specifically El Quetzal because the school and teachers are amazing plus I want to help them out. Shameless plug. I can get you contact info if you're ever interested.

3. As for the national food criticism, Guatemala gets a 4/5. Interestingly enough, this was the first Latin American country I had been that had tortillas. And somehow unlike the varieties I've had in the states, corn tortillas are really good there. In spite of the fact that most of the corn grown there goes out of the country, the corn products are abundant and very good. And beyond the staple beans, rice and eggs, they have certain dishes that are cooked and served in large leaves that look like they came straight out of the jungle. Excellent overall.

4. As for next steps, its off to San Francisco on the 26th for a apprenticeship orientation with InnerCHANGE. I'll be back on October 1st and from there, it's off to Caracas on the 8th!

5. Finally, October 4th is a day of prayer with CRM, (Church Resource Ministries) the mother organization of InnerCHANGE. I'll be taking the day to pray for YOU, so let me know how!

Alright, there are many details left to figure out still before I move on south, but thank you so much for all the encouragement and response and I'm sorry I've slow in returning messages. But I'll get there, eventually. I hope this finds you all doing just plain amazing and have an amazing October!

Press on for Joy!
Cameron



Many times in traveling or being in contact with different cultures, I've observed things that make absolutely no sense to me. But I have to remind myself that I don't know what people are thinking and feeling behind the action. Even bigger, I more often than not have no clue how God is at work in a place, person, or group from just a brief encounter. I find it disconcerting to only be able to observe and not know what to think or what to make of a situation without any informative commentary or concurrent processing. So, in light of that, the section below is written simply as observables; no analysis, no viewpoints or emotions. Just actions and words that can be observed. With that, here are some vignettes of Guatemala.

Guatemala by the numbers

Guatemala suffered a 36 year internal war where over 200,000 died in the conflict and nearly 1 million were displaced. In 1996, peace accords were signed and armed conflict stopped.

Currently, CACIF (a large trade federation composed of various companies and other organizations) owns about %80 of the land. The other %20 is owned by 15 families in Guatemala. The other 12.5 million people in Guatemala don't have much left over. (Or in the case of many field workers, their land is owned by someone else.) Also, geographically, the population is distributed such that %80 percent of the people live on %20 percent of the land.

1 dollar is 7.65 quetzales (pronounced kate-zal-ehs). 10 quetzales will get you three oranges, or a bag full of breads and rolls, or into El Fonde del Che for an evening of Andean folk music.

The Mayan "week" has 13 days for the 13 major movement parts of the body (2 ankles, 2 knees, 2 hips, 2 writs, 2 elbows, 2 shoulders and 1 neck). Multiply 13 by 20 fingers and toes and you have 260 days which makes the Mayan year.

It can take 4 or less hours to get to Xela from the capital on the chicken bus. 4 plus hours on a fancier bus. It takes about 2 hours to walk up to the natural steam baths on a mountain behind Xela. It takes about an hour to walk down.

There are 15 political parties in Guatemala. You can move on in a presidential election with only 23% of the popular vote. The 2 remaining candidates both have parties whose symbols are hands. One in the shape of a bird (think Napoleon Dynamite happy hands club), the other a fist.



Casa de los Migrantes (House of the Migrants)

Two years ago, the Guatemalan government built a facility for folks that had left Guatemala to come into the US illegally, but were captured at some point along the way and sent back. The commencing InnerCHANGE team in Xela has been visiting the facility for a while now and helping to organize volunteers for cooking meals. I got to visit the house one afternoon. I walked into a rather large room(in comparison to the rooms in the house I was living at and school I was attending) with bunk beds lining the walls. About thirty men were standing around. Except they weren't men by age. The youngest could have been no older than 15, the oldest no more than 25. We had happened to arrive at lunch time and half of the group was being called out for lunch. I was told that for some it had been a very long time since they left. If they are captured in Mexico, they have to wait for enough Guatemalans to be captured before they are sent back. When they arrived here four days ago, they had to give up their backpacks, belts and shoelaces. Today they were getting them back.

The next room over is for the women. About 20 young women were waiting here. Some were siting with small children of no more than 4. Everyone is waiting for their parents or relatives to come pick them up and take them back home. However, some of them won't exactly have a home to go back to. As it was explained to me, the trip north is very expensive (especially considering a significant amount of people in rural areas make no more than 2 dollars a day). Most of the people here either took out a loan on the their land, sold it to the bank, or if they were very lucky they might have sold their car. After finding a coyote (name for the guides) and paying upwards of $4,000 (some after they cross), the trip begins. By far the most treacherous part is crossing the desert in Mexico. As one of the volunteers told me about his trip, in his party of 20 people, 2 died and the rest survived on a gallon of water between them in the desert during the four day crossing. He also explained that the odds of making it past the border are very slim, just about %5. Yet, due to lack of work and lack of opportunities, the people in these two rooms tried. Now after an unsuccessful attempt, they are waiting for their parents to come claim them. Of course that assumes that they even notified their family. The volunteers explained that for some, the shame of being caught is too much. Instead of facing their fathers, they'll try their fortune away from the family. Some find a job, others a gang, others just the street. But for today, they're smiling with their shoelaces, belts, and free hands that don't have to hold up their pants any longer.

Raining on their Parade

I was lucky enough to be in Guatemala during their independence day, September 15th. The majority of the week was filled with parades, concerts, men selling plastic blue and white flags in the street, and general festiveness. On the afternoon of the 14th, I found myself in the "Central Park" (More of a concrete zone with trees and shrubs symmetrically scattered in concrete planter beds ringed with benches) watching high school marching band after high school marching band pass by on the street. (A note about the bands: trumpets, metal handheld xylophones, drums and nothing else. The music spanned everything from the Guatemalan national anthem to Nelly Furtado's Say it Right.) The doubled edged sword of being tall and being in Guatemala is that I could see everything without obstruction from the back edge of the crowd, but I also received a significant proportion of the attention that should have been directed at the parade.

After a short amount of time, I heard a bit of a thud behind me. I turned around to find an older woman in a blue sweater and black skirt on the ground. Another lady was taking her arm to help her up, but as she was a bit of a "gordita" (literally "little fat one", which isn't offensive there.) I took her other arm and helped to bring her up. The other woman and I helped her to an open spot on a concrete bench attached to planter. The other woman continued on at this point and I took a seat next to the older lady with the blue knit sweater. Her left leg was a little dusty but showed no trace of blood. She sat with her face in her hand for a number of minutes. The bands marched on behind the wall of people in front of us. She finally uncovered her face and brushed part of her graying but still dark hair slightly aside. "You alright?" I asked. She picked up her head and gave me a tired smile revealing two missing front teeth. She stared at me for an uncomfortable period of time and then returned her head to her hand. This process repeated itself a number of times. Finally after a number of questions on my part and very little responsiveness on her part (though the bands passing by made it difficult to hear) she finally decided to get up and go. Standing up, she tottered a bit and I helped to steady her. Grabbing my right hand between a few fingers and the thumb on her right hand, she lead me through the crowd. We were walking past the flag poles with disproportionally large flags looking more like sails on a mast when the national anthem started playing. She stopped, maintaining the grip on my hand and we stood facing the flags for the song. We were standing rather close to the flags and a number of officials of some sort were no more than forty feet in front of us to our left. Realizing I was in a rather conspicuous location, I tried to follow the lengthy anthem along with some openings and closings of my mouth, but I looked rather lost. Finally after a number of minutes, the song ended in applause and the old woman pulled me through the crowd while I stabilized her at key moments.

After pushing through some more crowd and garnering a number of side glances, we reached another seat in the park and I gestured for us to sit down. The bands kept circling the park, but it was a little quieter at this location. At this point, I was determined to learn the woman's name. "Como se llama?" (What are you called?) She looked at me, raised her lip and looked away. I tried again. Same response. I waited and tried, tried and waited, but the best semblance of answer I got was "Pollo" (Chicken). She then confidently asserted "soy embolada" (I'm drunk) with a large smile and quickly laid her head against my shoulder and picked it up just as quickly. "Where do you live?" I asked and was answered with a blank stare. "Where do you live? I want to help you get home." Again nothing. So we sat and listened to the cacophony of at least eight different bands playing at once as they made their way around the park. I tried a few different times asking for her place of residence but nothing came of it. At one point she stood up and snatching my hand again, set off. We walked to the northwest corner of the park, but were confounded by the crowds and rib shaking bass drums (she had indicated she wanted to see the bands) and were forced to retreat to different bench circling a planter. I tried again to ask her where she was going or where she lived. She returned the question to me with an interested look. "I live over there" I motioned. She pleaded with her eyes and asked "Can I you take me with you?" "Its not my house, I'm just staying there. Another family owns the house and I can't take visitors in with me. But where is YOUR house? I can help you get there." And as with so many times before, she gave a blank stare and turned away. This process repeated a number of times only to be interrupted by some folks handing out flyers for pain relievers. By now, nigh an hour and a half had passed since the woman had fallen and it was dark. Her condition had not changed in the least. I had appointments very soon and was likely to be late as it was. I folded the pain relief flyer into a paper airplane, handed it to the woman, and asked as clearly as I could if I could help her home one last time. Again, the raised lip. I took her hand, explained I had to go, silently prayed over her and left. Her head turned down again as I got the last glimpse of her aging gray and black hair as I walked off. The bands played on.

Cristo Viene

The bed was put together and moved into the right position amid the row of double and triple bunk beds. There was nothing else to do, all the trash was swept up and the whole place looked much better. I bid my farewell to my building partner and to Juan Francisco, the retired evangelical pastor in the wheel chair who had opened up his house for any and all street kids and shoeshine boys with out homes.

Walking out, I heard a bit of commotion to my right and saw one of the older boys picking up rock from the street. He placed it under his coat and held it in place in his armpit. I hurried over and found Byron, the older boy who had just picked up the rock, approaching Jaime, his tormentor. Jaime held a toy gun (which they sell for very cheap in the street and could look rather authentic in a dark alley) that apparently he used to shoot Byron. Somehow I managed hurry over and put myself between the two. Byron strode down the street always facing Jaime. I could only tell Jaime's position from the direction of Byron's face. Jaime apparently stood still and wasn't moving. I asked Byron quickly what had happened. Except my words didn't carry what I meant; for possibly the only time in the trip, my spanish just plain wouldn't work. Byron got the gist of my inquiry and spouted out his complaint. Jaime had shot him with the gun and the projectile had nailed Byron no more than a fingers width away from his eye. "Look!" he shouted and pointed to the spot. I looked and stammered "No,... no... estoy bien," (which means "No no, I'm fine." instead of my intended "No, its fine.") At this point we had walked past Jaime and were nearing a corner. A few steps later, Byron still facing his antagonist, dropped the rock. We stopped, talked a bit more, (my spanish came back to me at this point.) and after asking for some money which I told him I didn't have, he took off. I yelled out "Paz a ti" and turned to go home. I came down a road I had never taken before, and found a view of the mountain side across town. On top of a house or church or some sort of building, the words Cristo Viene, were placed above it in large letters. Cristo Viene, Christ comes.

C-mail: Guatemala and Leaving Home

Howdy All!

For some of you, this is your first C-mail, so a brief introduction, otherwise, feel free to skip on down:

The C-mail was begun nigh over a year ago mainly as a way to report on my experiences during the Global Urban Trek to Lima, Peru just over a year ago. Previously in my life, I had been frustrated by folks returning from short term missions and having a complete inability to tell me anything that happened except that it was "great." With this lack of information in mind, I started the C-mail to pry open the lid on missions and let all who would read have full view into the happenings and my reactions to them. I'm continuing with that openness now as well in this next phase of my life. I'm in the process of moving to Caracas, Venezuela with a missionary order called InnerCHANGE. I hope to spend the next 2 to 3 years living in the barrios among the poor and following Jesus in seeking the Kingdom of God in those neighborhoods. If you're on this list, you get to see what happens along the way. I can't promise it will be pretty, or fun, or happy, but I know my God is faithful in His undying love for the least and lost of this world. It is in that love that I believe and know that true joy is found. I hope that through these updates you can share and be challenged in your own pursuit of Christ and the full life that follows.

With that, a structural note. The C-mail tends to be long, so it has two parts: a numbered list type update/prayer request section, and a more reflective story type of section at the end that tends to be very long. Here go the numbers.

1. This Saturday the 18th I'm flying off to Guatemala. In the city of Quetzaltenango, or as the locals call it, Xela (pronounced Shay-la), I'll be taking four weeks of Spanish school to fill in the gaping holes in my Spanish learning.

2. In addition to learning Spanish, I'll be learning about Guatemalan history. This may sound really boring, but I consider it a good opportunity to learn how to learn. Specifically, how to learn a long, epic type of story from a group of people and then be able to take the stories from individuals and families and see how they place themselves within that larger story. From learning the big and little stories, I'm guessing you get a good idea of how a culture/people view time and events larger than themselves. This is an important thing to learn, especially if you want to introduce people to a large story and help them to see how they fit into it. (ie the Bible and how we fit into the grandest story of them all).

3. I hope to report on the history I'm learning on my blog while I'm there and perhaps summarize once I'm back stateside. Apparently, it is a crazy history and not easy for us to hear, but at the very least I can publish the Guatemalan's stories so that they are there for any who would listen.

4. I could certainly use prayer for this trip. If you happen to be the praying type, I would love to have prayer for A.) Health and protection against disease. Specifically stomach sickness from food. B.) Focus while learning Spanish C.) Time to meet and get to know the fledgling, perspective InnerCHANGE team in Xela. D.) General safety. Xela sounds pretty safe, but elections are coming up and a number of supporters and candidates have been shot. Pray for the safety and the end of violence against those running for office and their supporters. E.) Good emotional and spiritual well being while living and adjusting to a new culture. F.)Pray for all those in Peru mourning and in pain from the earthquake.

5. In terms of preparation for Caracas, I am still in the fundraising stage. Specifically, I'm trying to raise $1500 a month. I'm in progress towards that goal, but I'm asking for more supporters. If you would like to hear more about the vision and ministry in Caracas and possibly use this as an opportunity to give, shoot me an email back and we can go from there. (or for the tech savvy, you can give directly by this.) As for other preparation, I just have a lot of traveling, visa applications, and moving and relocation details all in a very short time period. Pray for grace!

Alright, I'm off, but I have lots of hours on a plane, so let me know how I can pray for you and or just let me know how you're doing. Have a great August, stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron




For just over two and half a weeks, I got to travel around California for fundraising, attending weddings, and visiting many old friends and making some new. Overall the trip was good, but at some point, I was struck by a new reality: I no longer had any geographical location that I could consider home. I didn't realize this until well into the trip. For a good week plus, life was amazing. The gypsy, traveling lifestyle was beautiful. The trip was planned out well, the destinations and people amazing, and my car got miraculous mileage. I exclaimed as much to a friend on the phone one evening. But the day after that praise of life on the road, I emotionally fell apart.

I don't know why I fell apart. Perhaps it was the realization that my old college town of San Luis Obispo wasn't home anymore. I knew the city like the back of my hand, I knew the campus, I knew the churches, the streets, the shops and restaurants. This was were I really began to love and follow God and built some of the greatest friendships of my life. I lived in one apartment for four years, and I considered that almost more of a home than the house I grew up in. But while visiting, the irony of being in my home town without my "home" really sank in. On top of that, the majority of people I knew from college were gone: now graduated and scattered to the winds. What's a city without friends? Everything was so familiar, but it wasn't home.

Perhaps it was the realization that my home here in Boise is soon to fail. My parents are moving to Texas in September. Assuming the house sells, I will have no one structure that qualifies as home. Again, as in SLO, everything is familiar, but it isn't home. And Texas? I've never been there so that doesn't qualify.

Perhaps it was drifting from place to place a day or two at a time. Perhaps not having a home base to operate out of or return to between meetings and appointments. Perhaps always being out in public where I needed something to do in order to justify my presence there. Perhaps it was that the majority of people I met and stayed with were themselves moving. Perhaps it was the brakes going out on my car (it got fixed, don't worry). Perhaps it was everything together or simply nothing at all. None the less, my heart faced the fact that even though I have places to stay and food to eat, I am, by a true definition of the word, homeless.

I'm probably making mountain out of molehills, but for an only child, homebody like myself, losing the security of an always open, permanent safe place is huge. I never realized how important this was until I lost it. But to find security in a place, a structure, a feeling, is the least secure position of all. And somehow in the losing, I know that I am loved.

Just before Jesus challenged the rich young ruler in Mark, Jesus looked at him, and loved him. Jesus cared for this man. But far beyond cared; He looked, saw him for all he was, and He loved him. It must have been one of those looks that just give you the warm fuzzies (I get the image of the old farmer at the end of Babe looking down and saying "That'll do pig, that'll do". Ok, go ahead and mock.) Then from such a kind, gentle countenance of unconditional love, instead of "That'll do pig", come the words: "One thing you lack: Go your way, sell whatever you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, take up the cross and follow Me." That sure doesn't sound kind or loving. More like a self imposed death sentence. What kind of messed up love is that?

The ruler leaves dejected with Jesus' voice ringing out behind him "How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the Kingdom of God!" Again, what kind of messed up love is this? I found myself asking the same question on this last trip. My feelings weren't of joy or goodness. They were of worry, angst, lostness. Something that I had always had, and always taken for granted is now disappearing right in front of me. The same process has been happening with fundraising, only now in terms of concrete money instead of the vague notion of home. How is this love?

A thought occurred to me while driving around these past weeks and listening to some sermons of Bob Ekblad's. When the Hebrews had just come out of Egypt and were in the desert, they sent spies up to check out Israel. The spies came back and reported a land of amazing abundance, flowing with milk and honey. Yet it was inhabited by giants and the people feared that they would not be able to take it. Yet God had promised them this land; He wanted to give them it, in all of its wonder and splendor. Read that again. God WANTED to give them something great! Instead, the people looked at the reality of what was in front of them, the things preventing them from going into the land. Without divine intervention, they were going to die in any attempt at moving into Israel. So they panicked and wanted to go back to Egypt, and slavery. For most of my life, I've heard that the sin of the Hebrews at this point was a lack of faith in God. But what if it was a lack of desire? Or to put it another way, they weren't willing to fight for the extreme goodness God wanted to give them. For the truth in the situation was that God had promised them an amazing life in this land, but they were willing to take the easy road and settle for slavery.

Perhaps that was the same love Jesus had for the young man. He had in store for this ruler a life so amazing and so full that he couldn't even imagine, but the man was to willing to settle and not risk what he already had. With the ruler gone, Peter gives his aghast response to Jesus: "See, we have left all and followed you!" With that, Jesus is quick to answer:

"Assuredly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or lands, for My sake and the gospel's, who shall not receive a hundredfold now in this time—houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions—and in the age to come, eternal life." And so, Jesus loved him. He knew the reward and the risk in front of this ruler. He wanted this man to give all he had up to gain countless riches he could never lose, both now and eternally. Its the same messed up love of a parent pulling a piece of glass out of a toddler's mouth and replacing it with a slice of orange. For me, that means finding a home in no one geographical location or house, but finding my home in Christ wherever I might be, with the end goal of an eternal home that will never fail. I honestly haven't swallowed the eternal home part, but God's not done yet. I still feel homeless at times and frequently the cost of following Christ seems to pileup way beyond my means. Yet in spite of insecurity and the weight of doubt, I know I must continue to seek and follow and sacrifice for the reward that is ahead.

Why is it so hard to live this out? Why can't we take Jesus at His word and be willing to fight and suffer for all the goodness He offers? Doubt, yes. Unholy contentment, yes. The actual fight and struggle, yes. But perhaps the most devastating piece of resistance that others have shown me is that of logic. It would make sense for this man to invest his money so that he would always have something to give to the poor. However, that is not what Jesus asked him to do. He asked him to sell and give. Eventually he would have run out of stuff to sell and money to give. He would have become as poor as the people he was giving too. But at that point something extremely beautiful happens. Instead of cash or a sandwich or a coat, he can only offer the greatest gift he has, himself. And that is following Jesus.

May God give us all grace and strength to follow and persevere towards His blessing. I'll let you know how it turns out on my end. Let me know how it goes with you. Until then,
Press on for Joy!
Cameron

C-mail: Simple update. Sorry, no cool story this time.

Howdy all!

It's been great to hear from so many of you and simply to hear what's been going in your lives. Hopefully I'll get a chance to see some of you soon before I take off. And about taking off....

There are some new folks on the C-mail distribution, welcome!. As such, let me bring everyone up to speed and give a brief overview of the next few months. This last April, I had the privilege of taking a brief survey trip in one of the barrios (hillside slums) of Caracas, Venezuela. I went for the purpose of visiting a team of folks living and ministering there with a missionary group called InnerCHANGE. There I got to see and experience a bit of life among those in the barrios and what ministry in that context looks like. After returning back to Boise, some deliberation and a lot of prayer, I committed to join InnerCHANGE in Caracas for at least two years. Lord willing, I'll be there by early October.

As such, I'm currently in the preparation phase of moving down there. This includes support raising (prayer and financial), learning Spanish, reading about missions, and praying to be ready. This summer is going to full of travel as well. In early July, part of our team from Caracas and myself will be up in Northern Washington state for a training there. I'll also be doing a trip though California for support raising, visiting, and wedding attending in late July and early August. From the middle of August to the middle of September, I'll be in Guatemala for language school and hopefully getting to a point where I actually know what I'm saying in Spanish and not just pretending. In the end of September, the InnerCHANGE orientation in San Francisco takes place and finally after that, it's time to move down and start living in Caracas. It is a packed summer, but the end goal is so worth it. Even just writing this makes me excited! So that's the plan. If you're in California, Idaho, or Washington and would like to catch up, let me know.

As for future updates, if you are reading this, you are on my update/mailing list. Once I'm in Caracas, I'm hoping to send out updates monthly. Now I know some folks are huge into email and others would rather eat a bug than get on their computer. So, you have two options to receive updates. Either you can keep getting them via email, or you can get them in physical form in your mail box. Either option is wonderful, just pick whichever works best for you. If you want real letters, just let me know your address and you can pick them up as your friendly postal worker drops them off. If you would prefer email, you're already golden.

I hope this finds you all well. Let me know how you're doing too. It is always great to hear how everyone is doing and to encourage each other. Have a great week, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron



Ok, so I said no story, but I just can't help it. However, this isn't my story. It was one I heard at Urbana that first got me interested in InnerCHANGE. Corrie is currently on the team in Caracas and has been there for almost three years now. This is one of her experiences of God's pursuing grace:

Last year I was held up by a young street thug who tried to take the gold ring off my finger. They got the purse I had on my shoulder, but after that, because they didn¹t have guns and seemed to be in a hurry, I was able to put up a fight with the ring, and the guy wasn¹t able to get it off my hand. The ring itself was inexpensive, but was a gift from my parents that I¹d been wearing since I was 13! Clearly it meant a lot to me to save my ring, but needless to say, I was definitely roughed up and scared as they ran away. In my nearly three years in the barrios, it was the first time I was held up ­and in my own neighborhood! That wasn¹t a good day. Though, fortunately, it wasn't the end of the story.


Several weeks ago, we were told that one of the street thugs in our neighborhood had been shot and was in the hospital. It was Calimero - the very guy who had held me up several months earlier. In those ensuing months, Calimero had been terrorizing the neighborhood, and the more we heard about him, the more we learned of his story. Davíd (his given name, before he took the street name Calimero) had basically grown up on the streets as an orphan. His brothers were in jail or had been killed, and his sister was a prostitute farther up the hill (can this story be real? I think to myself). So, with nothing to hope for and no life to believe in, Calimero fell into what surrounded him: the drugs and violence of the streets. Though most people around here have watched him grow up, fed him, and even tried to help, now that he has chosen this path as an adolescent, they all seem to be waiting for him to be killed off in the streets. No one believes there in is any more hope for him in this life. "May God forgive him," they say, "because I won't."


Darling, a friend from the neighborhood, invited us to visit Calimero in the hospital with her. When we finally saw him lying in that hospital bed, we were given a picture that will stay with me forever. We walked in, my team leader John, my teammate Ryan, and I (all of whom Calimero has robbed), and all stood around Calimero's bed. We were all a little awkward, and maybe a little scared. But soon we were all talking, laughing, holding his hand. We prayed for him; we prayed over him. They were just simple prayers, but so deep. We were thanking God for his life as we shared smiles and small jokes. We got to tell him that as a team we had been praying for God to spare his life, and that this was an answer to our prayers. We got to tell him that we cared about him and about his life. The grace of forgiveness was alive in the room, as if God had put on flesh and was walking among us. In fact, we were Christ¹s forgiveness alive in that room.


At the very end as we were saying goodbye, I squeezed his hand and held it. And I realized: Calimero was holding my hand - the same hand from which he tried to rip my promise ring to sell on the street for $3.00 just several months before. And because God is good, there we were again; able to tell him with love through just a glance that he's forgiven... in the very deepest sense of that word. To feel him holding that hand in such a different way and to hear him say as he looked me in the eye, "Gracias, Corina..." The gift of God for Calimero blew me away.


We don¹t know what will happen with Calimero's life. Nevertheless, I can celebrate the privilege it is to have been invited into his fear and pain and to share hope and life and something so much better... that's why I have wanted to be here, doing this.

There's much that has happened since this, but I'll share it later.

The K-mail??? Back from Caracas

Howdy all!

First, I want to thank all of you for your prayers, thoughts and encouragements. They are always appreciated and I'm blessed to know you all. I've been home for a week now and I've been slowly processing the events and emotions of the Caracas trip. As such, I haven't been able to share much of anything that would make sense in the time I've been back, but now I feel God is helping me sort through the mess and only now is it starting to fall into place. Thanks for everyone's patience in dealing with me in an off state this past week.

But now, here are some things I come away with and what I hope can bless you. I'm still in process with most of this so I apologize if it's a little rough or unorganized. Like the usual mail formats, there's the "brief" numbered list overview and a more in depth story beyond that. And with that, here we go:

1. I got a new name. Now in Peru, I stayed true to my given name even in the face of strong suggestions to the contrary. In Spanish, my name sounds dangerously close to the word camaron which is the word for shrimp. While this usually provided a good introductory joke, it is simply an unusual name. Also, whenever folks in Latin America hear the name Cameron, they immediately think of Cameron Diaz and assume it is a girls name. So, it seemed that I should finally take the plunge and get a new, more culturally appropriate name. Initially, the name Carlos was suggested, but by no means am I a Carlos. At the airport, our taxi driver suggested the name Kelvin (pronounced Quel-vean). It sounded good so I went with it. Only later did I realize that it was also the name of the absolute temperature scale named after the Irish physicist-engineer Lord Kelvin. I take that as a great honor, being a good part Irish and having studied a fair share of engineering and physics. Overall, I'm pretty happy with the name. As a side note, one of the families there thought I looked like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo and bequeathed me with that moniker. Amused as I am at the thought of taking the name of the Hanna-Barbera cartoon beatnik able to each sandwiches rivaling the the size of the Mystery Machine, I'll stick with Kelvin. Zoinks!

2. The Spanish in Caracas, especially in the barrios, is essentially a different language from the little bit of Spanish I know. The slang varies street by street, the words are said differently (Caracas becomes Caraca, many s's are dropped from the ends or middle of words) and they talk rather fast. So, communication was a bit difficult at times, but it was good for me to learn to ask them to teach me. Frustrating as that was at times, it did help and it was good to set a pattern for myself to ask and learn instead of assuming.

3. The folks in InnerChange are really awesome. I had forgotten how crucial community is. It was beautiful to see them take in three complete strangers and make us feel so at home. Having that community was such a encouragement for everyone, us visiting, the team living there, and the Venezuelans.

4. "So what did you do?" Always a difficult question to answer, but here goes. For this trip, I did a lot of observing and hanging out with the folks in the barrios. There weren't specific tasks or goals that could be checked off. It was more just to learn, learn how to be a learner, and to get an idea of the culture, the people and of InnerCHANGE.

5. One thing I learned there was another definition of poverty: "A lack of options/opportunity". If people don't have the option to change, be something different, or aren't even aware that they themselves and their environment could be different, then what hope do they have? It wasn't so much the physical poverty that struck me while being there, but this other type made the biggest impact.

6. Food Review! Venezuela garners a 3/5. Excellent fresh bread, fried plantains are awesome, great coffee, but there is nothing spicy in that country at all. One of the guys on the team smuggled in some Mexican spices just to get something picante. The other thing that is missing is THE typical dish of Venezuelan. While Japan has sushi, Norway's got lutefisk, and the US has casserole, Venezuela has, well, nothing unique. They do have arepas which are essentially 3-d tortillas, but they can be filled with almost anything adding to the non-uniqueness. Overall, the food is good, but nothing special.

7. "Will you be going back?" Lord willing, in October. For two years, and possibly longer, but one step at a time. The first six months of that time will be very similar to this trip, but more in depth. A lot of learning, building deep relationships, learning the culture in deeper levels, and mastering the language. All this before any official "ministry" can really start. What will that ministry look like? That is hard to know at this point, but my guess would be a lot of praying, with some more praying, and a bit of prayer on the side. THEN, perhaps evangelism, discipling, being agents of peace, working with some of the house churches while planting others, and targeting at risk youth. (At risk of becoming "malandros"-loosely the equivalent of gang members that rob from the community until they eventually get killed by someone from the community. (It is completely acceptable for vigilante justice to act out the will of the community and kill one person.)). Mixed in with all that would be the various kids programs or english teaching or even trying to get the folks to organize community projects or clean ups, building solar ovens, helping families build their houses, or who knows what. The possibilities are endless.

8. "What's next?" Fund raising, practicing Spanish, and bouncing around North America like a pinball. I have a number of orientations and evaluations in LA and San Francisco. I might be going to Texas with the folks to help them build their house for about a month. I'm also going to Guatemala for a month for language school. Mix in a few weddings and I'm going to have a sweet pile of frequent flyer miles:) If you're in California this summer or spring, let me know and I'd love to catch up. I'm hoping to make it to Poly for graduation but we'll have to see.

Alright, there's more stuff I'm processing/writing on the blog if you are so interested, including a comparison between the trip to Peru and this trip, as well as an outsiders look from the inside at Socialist Venezuela and Chavez.

Ok, the story is below as usual, but again thank you all for the prayers and encouragement. They are always greatly appreciated. If there is anything I can be praying for you, let me know.

Love you all and may Christ continually call you and keep you.
Press on for Joy!
Cameron




"Mira, la primera ley de beisbol es no temes la pelota de beisbol" I hoped that my intention carried through the poor Spanish. The small kid (let's call him Carlos) about 15 yards in front of me seemed to get it. At least his actions said so. He may be inexperienced, but he is a fast learner.

John from InnerCHANGE and myself had gone down to round up some kids from one of the communities to play baseball. A man from that place had started practices for 5-12 year olds on tuesday afternoons. For one reason or another, he couldn't make it so John and I led the practice. By the time about six kids had trickled onto the soccer/baseball field laid out next to a textile factory, we started a few basic drills. Carlos was the smallest one there and was probably no older than six. He started the day tossing underhand and was extremely shy about catching. After a few basic drills, John kept working with the older kids while I threw and caught with Carlos. I threw a few overhanders his way and watched as he stuck out a timid and well worn glove while shrinking with his whole body. He never caught the ball. Thanks to John's earlier throwing instructions, he was lobbing overhand more accurately than my out of practice arm, but he was scared stiff of getting hit. "Look, the first law of baseball is to not fear the baseball." That's what I hope I said. But he seemed to understand and began to catch the ball with a sliver of confidence. Soon he got whatever I threw at him, but my wild throws above and to the side sat as embarrassing reminders that it has been 4th grade since I really played.

It was the hottest day of trip and possibly the year. Some of the kids went for a water break. Since they nor we had any water, the kids got very resourceful. A bunch of trash had been blown against a fence separating the field from the factory. They scavenged the trash until they found an old plastic bottle. Fortunately, there was a hose spigot that arose just on the field side of the fence. A black hose stretched and twisted from the spigot to some unknown use deep in the factory. The hose attachment leaked just enough to allow the bottle to be filled with enough patience. After the kids took a few swigs, they offered me some. "No gracias", with an appreciative smile. Perhaps one day God will grant me with a good enough immune system to stomach fluid of that source, but until then I'm going to avoid as many hospital bills as possible.

At some point, some older boys wandered in and we struck an awkward conversation in my broken Spanish and their fast and swallowed Caracan. They seemed friendly enough from what I could understand. Soon, John signaled the end of practice and we said goodbye's to all and started the steep escalation of the road up to our barrio. John explained that the older boys were trying to thwart the practices since it was only for 5-12 year olds. Like many of the youth, simply out of sheer boredom or other more malicious motivations, they caused a lot of trouble, but hopefully an older team could be started for them. On the climb up, a mother stood with her young son at her side on the road. We glanced up to say good afternoon and returned our stares down at our plodding feet on the incline. Something set her off after our greetings. A spew of words flew from her mouth followed by the wicked crack of a hand slapped against flesh. The sound still ringing in my ears, I looked up to find them vanished into the maze of shacks and hillside.

Further up, we stopped at a shack with bright yellow metal doors. We knocked and a small boy cracked open the door. He stood with open, shy eyes, completely silent. After multiple questions regarding the presence of his mother, his younger brother walked to the door. I can't say this younger brother, probably 3 or 4, was naked since he was wearing shoes. Soon, the mother came to the barely ajar door and began conversing with John. The original boy still stood wide eyed and silent. I tried to say hi and get him to laugh, but no change. The gathering at the door attracted another even younger brother. This one didn't even have shoes. I don't know if it was simply the heat that resulted in their lack of coverings or if their family simply couldn't afford it. I fear it was the later. The conversation quickly concluded and bidding them farewell, we started up the hill again. Sadly, John informed me that this family has consistently refused any offer of help; they feel that it is the world against them and they must go it alone. By the time we made it back up to the InnerChange house, my legs were tired, my throat was parched, and my heart was depressed.

I don't know what put me in that mood: the kids with the possibly dubious motives, the single example of child abuse which is played out over and over again in many homes, or the lone family taking heavy casualties in their fight against the world. It was probably all three. The first part of my time in Caracas was where I felt pretty good. A little disappointed in my own Spanish ability, but over all excited and encouraged. However, the past half hour was the jarring moment of reality. On the ride from the airport to the InnerChange house/center, the driver told us how everything here is a game. Nothing is as it seems and you have to be sharp to not be taken. As the proverbial sucker born on one of the 1440 minutes of December 20th, 1982, I felt emotionally taken. I began to doubt that I could make it the barrios. And fear crept in.

Fear is an interesting emotion in the sense that it paralyzes. Supposedly being in a scary situation preps your body for fight or flight, but fear poisons the mind. It works by predicting the future, and building the case that this future is unavoidable. Caught between the present and the impending malicious future, the fear-struck mind no longer has the freedom to act or choose. Upon our return from baseball, I sat in that state for a while. I've been siting in that state for a while since I've been back as well.

So how does one get out of paralysis, out of fear? Since being back home, that has been hard. For me, its been a lot of recognizing my need to pray and communicate honestly with God and myself. There have been times when I'm walking on water, and times when I'm sinking, but Jesus is there to save, as well as admonish me for my doubt of the small things. While I was deciding whether to return or not, I had to realize that I could not let fear be a deterrent or a deciding factor. I've also had to turn back to basics and focus on the love of God and let that perfect love drive out fear, fear that deals with torment. However, I didn't have a real breakthrough until today at church through our pastor's sermon. (Thanks Jim!)

God showed me exactly the fear I've been having and it completely describes the set of emotions and sentiments I've been experiencing. It is the fear I've struggled with my whole life: the fear of being rejected. As I've considered moving there, I honestly can't know how well I will be accepted there or if I will be accepted at all. The thought of going to a place for years and not being liked or appreciated scares me stiff. Now, I don't know if this is true for all fear, but for this one, there is a root of sin that causes it to grow. For myself, that sin is seeking of acceptance outside of God; pursuing human acceptance. Now there is nothing wrong with being accepted by people, but for me it is a very fine line between merely accepting acceptance and building my entire self-worth and life around others acceptance. However, when I lean completely on Christ's acceptance, having faith in that which cannot be seen and yearning for the day to hear "Well done good and faithful servant", it is then that I am free to love, serve, and walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil. It's been a long week to finally re-recognize this lesson I've been taught so many times, but praise God He is faithful and good to remind me of it.

Back in Caracas on that tuesday, God gave me a boost through the scriptures to help me out of that fear. A missionary to Peru (howdy Chris!) told our trek team that in the bible it says "Fear not" or "Do not be afraid" 366 times. One for everyday, including leap years. I also read in Hebrews 12 how God does allow discipline in our lives to bring a peaceable fruit of righteousness. I was also encouraged by the theme in Mark of fear vs. faith and the importance of choosing faith. After reflecting on all of that, God reminded me of my own words to Carlos: The first rule of baseball is to not fear the baseball. If I'm scared, I'm never going to catch anything and there's a better chance of getting hit. Rather, I need to put fear aside and run at whatever is thrown at me in order that I might catch it and throw it back. By His grace, I hope I can learn as fast as Carlos.

Stay strong, seek the Lord and
Press on for Joy!

Just like a phoenix from the ashes....

. . . or that funk from the disposal; the C-mail is back!

A few orders of business before the business. You are receiving this because either you were on the C-mail (Cameron's (the tall red headed guy (don't worry, I forget who I am too)) general update email) list for the global urban trek to Lima, Peru this last summer, or you were on the global urban trek to Lima, Peru last summer, or I figured you would want to get this update for one reason or another. If you don't want to be on this list, just let me know. There should only be one more of these in the immediate future, but I don't want to clog your inboxes if you don't wish it. Second, if this is not your primary email and you'd like future updates sent there, let me know.

Alright, here we go: First the brief facts numbered list style for those on the go and then the random thoughts/musings at the end.

1. I'll be heading off to Caracas, Venezuela on April 9th and staying there for 10 days. I'm going to visit a missionary team there living in the barrios of that city. This team is part of an organization called InnerCHANGE. I first heard about InnerCHANGE at Urbana this past December.
2. I honestly have no clue what I'll be doing those ten days I'm there. This isn't exactly a "missions" trip in that there is a task to accomplish or people to serve. Rather, it's a survey trip to see if this might be where God would have me spend the next 2-3 years, or more of my life, starting in October. My goals are to get to know the team and the folks in the barrios, and simply watch and listen to hear God's direction.
3. I would certainly appreciate prayer. First, this is a huge decision to make and clarity in hearing God's voice and receiving His wisdom are key. Second, the barrios in Caracas are very dangerous. Everyone on the team there has been robbed at some point over the years (some at gun point.) There are many shootings there and much vengeance killing. Pray for safety for those of us visiting (two girls and myself), for the team, and most of all for the people living under the daily threat of violence. And finally, and this may sound weird, but pray for my mom to have peace while I'm down there.
4. As part of the C-mail premium package, you get to know what happened when I get back. Stories, cross-cultural blunders, lessons learned, and the ever amusing, over-generalized country by country food review (current stats: America 3/5, Canada 4/5 (chocolate and salt & vinegar chips bump the rating) and Peru 4.5/5 (if I hadn't gotten sick from that last salad it would have been perfect)). How much you want to know depends on how much you want to read:)

I would love to hear from all of you and forgive me for not getting back to so many of you. There are a few more days before I head off, so feel free to give me a call/email/telegraph. I've certainly missed many of you (Cal Poly and Peru folks) and I hope to catch up with you soon. Have a great Easter, for He is Risen!
Press on for Joy!
Cameron


"Your's is the most terrible crime a human being can commit. I accuse you, of a wasted life!" - Papillon

So, you might be wondering how I came across this particular group and what exactly about them has me traveling to a super dangerous barrio. The first I heard of InnerChange was at Urbana. I was hoping to find a missions group there that worked specifically with the poor, ideally in Latin/South America, and that I could somewhat "agree" with. By agree, I mean both doctrinally, but also operationally. As I looked through groups, there was always something that just simply irked me about them. Yes, I could work with them, but I feared I would have always been straining against the reins and trying to go at it in the way that I see and know God: both who He is, and how He works. When I came to Urbana, I had for the most part thought that I wasn't going to find a group that I could AGREE! with, but rather a group that I could merely "agree" with.

Thankfully, I came in contact with InnerChange. I got to talk with some of their staff and hear some of their stories. Initially I was only mildly interested. Yet when I got back, I read, researched, reflected and I began to realize that I Agreed! Now no group is perfect for sure, but I certainly thought kindredly of their experiences with God and the ways they work with Him. I'll explain more about their approach later, perhaps on the blog. As one example, here's one of the coolest things I love about God and InnerCHANGE does model themselves after this as well.

I don't have a clue how to dig into this topic and type of life because it is so broad and so rich. Essentially, it comes down to upside down. By that, I mean what we pass by and ignore might be the most important of all. What we as people naturally value, may not be what God values. What we as people consider as the best, may not be what God considers the best. Look at the beatitudes and the states of existence that Jesus said are blessed (poor, mourning, persecuted). Look at how Saul armored up David to fight Goliath, when actually armor was the last thing David needed. Look at Paul as he came to the Corinthians, not in the wisdom and persuasiveness of words, but in the power of the Spirit. "For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength. . . . God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. 1 Cor. 1:25, 27-29.

I believe that God loves to work in opposition to our natural desires to possess power, control, safety and success. Rather, God works to pull us into dependence upon Him and the Body of believers, He requires faith to please Him, He calls us to build upon the solid rock that endures storm after storm, and He asks us to obey even in the face of failure. It is more than just head knowledge about this reversed state that God asks for. I believe that He asks for our lives to be ordered around this backward scale. This kind of life lived in the hands of God, walking by faith and not by sight, is so counter to everything we know, see, hear, and learn from others. As such, it encounters opposition. One example, days before Good Friday:

'And being in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, as He sat at the table, a woman came having an alabaster flask of very costly oil of spikenard. Then she broke the flask and poured it on His head. But there were some who were indignant among themselves, and said, "Why was this fragrant oil wasted? For it might have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor." And they criticized her sharply.
But Jesus said, "Let her alone. Why do you trouble her? She has done a good work for Me. For you have the poor with you always, and whenever you wish you may do them good; but Me you do not have always. She has done what she could. She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial. Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her."' Mark 14:3-9

If you just got back from Spring Break Camp, this will be review, but a worthy one. See this woman, anointing the Savior for his impending burial. John identifies her as Mary in his gospel. 300 denarii, that is at least a years wages; let's say $40,000. Forty thousand dollars on a bottle of perfume, broken and poured out all at once. How many meals is that for hungry mouths? How many clothes is that for those who have none? How many foreclosures could that avert? How many more if it was invested well and then given prudently? But it was broken and wasted; the answer to "how many?" became zero. The disciples become indignant. John specifically singles out Judas who leaves immediately after this scene to find the Pharisees to betray Jesus.

Yet, Jesus commends this woman. What she has done is beautiful. Even wherever the gospel goes, this story of this act by this woman will go along too. How easy it is to be offended by this waste. How repugnant it is to sensibility. Yet Jesus calls it beautiful. The question then becomes, what am I wasting on Jesus?

For me at this time, it means visiting, and possibly moving into a very dangerous barrio. It means taking years to really master a language and simply resigning myself to the sidelines of ministry during that time. It means dumping whatever God given resources and love I have onto whoever I meet. It means spending my life not on that which might make the most sense and might accomplish the most, but rather spending it in one small place with a few people I haven't even yet met.

John Hayes founded InnerCHANGE back in the 80's and recently came out with a book called "sub-merge" describing the group and some of their history and stories. He ends the book with this paragraph:

Mary's anointing was also a meaningful act. Like the account of Mary, many of the members of our communities spill out their lives in areas doomed to die. No matter what we do toward transformation in every community we choose to live in, some will not make it. Some will be bulldozed, sold out, gentrified, or redeveloped for a "better" crowd. And our hopes and dreams, joined with those of the poor, will simply be an expenditure of love, an anointing for burial. Logic may be on Judas's side. But for those who choose to pour out their lives among the poor, there will be a fragrance that fills the house of God."

This week, just before the burial of Jesus, what can you pour out? Make it beautiful and
Press on for Joy!

C-mail, promised application and lessons learned. Fin.

Howdy all,

This is the last C-mail! Rejoice or weep, this is it. I've also posted the whole story that I started in the previous email on the blog: pressonforjoy.blogspot.com. The little update tracker will have the encounter number. As for this email, it has two sections. If you are only going to read one part, read the second. If you're going to read both sections, thanks. If you're going to read nothing, well, don't blame me if you miss the meaning of life down there in the text. In any case, commence.

1st Section: Brief lessons learned (I'm saying this more to myself so I can look back at it. So apologies if it seems preachy).

1. Obey God. Just do it. 'Nuff said.

2. Life is not a movie. There are rarely grand climaxes and showdowns. Movies end right after the resolution. Life keeps going. Life, inevitably, gets boring. Movies can't afford too to get boring. I'd love it if someone made a three hour movie about someone just sitting there and doing something, or nothing. "Ferris Bueller's Morning Classes and Lunch Period" So the point of the lesson is not to expect drama, adventure, and tidy resolution. Rather, live life, every exciting and monotonous moment after another. Boring or otherwise, all the time we have is a gift from God. Use it to seek Him and use it for good. That's so much more satisfying than waiting for some epic to drop in your lap.

3. Don't buy into lies. Know the truth and let the truth set you free. When we got back into LA, during our first day of debrief, everyone was pretty much out of it. Our leaders, praise God, realized that we were being fed lies. They shared some of what they had heard, and here are some of my own mixed with others from the team. Thoughts that everything in Peru was useless, it didn't mean anything, I'm worthless, God wasn't in that at all, all of it was done in the wrong way, etc etc. Poppycock! Our leaders led us in some Gospel songs. Now, I've never really liked most Gospel music, pretty much because it is so repetitive, but that's the point. You sing the truth, you proclaim until you do recognize it. We have put our faith in Jesus, I AM a child of the King. He is our Savior. His power does not fail. Period, ain't nothin' changing that. He was with us on this trip. I know He wanted me there, and I went. So there. During that time of singing, I was reminded of how God had worked on the whole trip. How liberating it is to know the truth, and not just know it, but live in it, sing it, believe it!

4. People are far more important than any thing or task. This comes straight from Latin American culture, which, in terms of punctuality, is only a block over from the typical laid back college sense of time. Spend time with people, whoever you meet, doesn't matter what you're doing, honor them by giving them your time and attention.

5. Love doesn't have a language. I'm going to quote Henry Drummond (I love this guy, check out "The Greatest Thing in the World") "You can take nothing greater to the world than the impress and reflection of the Love of God upon your own character. That is the universal language. It will take you years to speak in Chinese, or in the dialects of India. From the day you land, that language of Love, understood by all, will be pouring forth its unconscious eloquence. It is the man who is the missionary, it is not his words. His character is his message."

6. If you ever do a missions trip, partner with the people who are working there as local missionaries. Not only does it help a ton, but it gives you such a better perspective of life in that place (and they get an outside perspective as well, which can be a good or bad thing). They are there longer than the particular trip, so they can keep working and building on what you've done together.

7. Life is much better when God is part of all of it. It is so important to seek God on your own. We had essentially no time/space to ourselves the whole time we were in San Antonio. Finding time to spend alone with God was very difficult for so long, but once I found it, oh man, good stuff. At the same time, God can be part of everything, because He is part of everything, just need to look for Him.

8. I can't really explain it, but I felt really alive down there. Perhaps it was living in community (and by living, I mean 24 hours a day, close contact. We had two rooms for 33 people. Our mattresses pretty much took the entire floor, no personal space, shared bathrooms, nothing private. Yet, I was rarely annoyed by those lacks. In terms of having to choose amazing people or stuff, take the people. And when there is stuff, don't let it get in the way of relationships) Living in Christian community is awesome. Even the church in Acts, they were always together, they were still in the world and reaching out to it, but they were not alone in doing so.

And there are many more lessons, but I need more time simply to process the whole trip; these are what come to mind easily. I know there has gotta be deeper stuff, but that will take some introspection to find. However, there is one more I'll talk about, but what I learned on the trip is more a continuation from something started earlier...

2nd Section: Living Justly/Rightly

Seek Justice. God loves justice. He cares for the poor. He does call everyone who desires to follow him to do the same. Check out Isaiah 58, the book of Amos, Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. Once you see it, you see God's compassion for the poor, and His desire for justice everywhere in the Word. And He is so willing to bless those who walk justly too. Check out Psalms 37.

That means. 1st. You need to know God in order to seek justice in the world. Without knowing Jesus, and believing in Him, all efforts to seek justice are under your own power (which will fail) and it just simply doesn't make any sense. Jesus calls His followers to lay down their lives that they might truly live His life. If you are only trying to seek justice without seeking Christ at the same time, then you'll just wear yourself out, and either hate everyone else and work out of spite, or be hypocritical and criticize with your words while your life hasn't changed.

Instead, consider following Jesus. See what it means to have His power, His love, His hope, His compassion for you, in your life and see that extend to the world around you. This is the "why" of justice/righteousness. The basic message of the Gospel is that all have fallen short, no one is good enough to reach God. The world is broken, it is filled with broken people, evil people, ungrateful people, just like me. Yet, Jesus still loved us, enough to live with us in our sorry state and die for us that we might live forever (including right now) with Him. ! John 4:9-10 put it best. "In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation concerning our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." That's the focus of justice, to love one another just as Christ loves us, no matter the person or their attitude: your mom, the starving kid in the slum in Calcutta, that annoying guy at work and Nelson from Lima who has to drive a bus from 5 am to 11 pm to make $3.50.

So, how does one care for the poor, the ones that are overlooked so often yet God cares about so much. How does one live justly? That's a tough question. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure that it is possible to be 100% perfectly just in all that is done, that's why we need mercy to begin with. But, start looking into the hows. Get involved in a helping the poor. Maybe start by just talking to a homeless person, perhaps visit the elderly, what about mentoring kids from the not so nice part of town. What kind of things do you buy? Who made them? Were they paid a fair wage? I can't even begin to think of how many products we have that are produced at the expense of someone else's well being, health, or life. I'm not going to tell you what products, research them. The internet is a valuable resource for this (here's one site I just found:
http://www.newdream.org/consumer/shop.html. Its a decent site to compare companies and how they do in terms of fair wages for workers and environmental concerns.) Although, as I mentioned above, there is a lot of cynicism and dislike for pretty much anything under the sun from a lot of people trying to live justly. Don't get discouraged by this, rather look for the good with the bad, temper everything with mercy. Its impossible to do everything from the get go, or even at the end. That's why its a process and its so worth it.

Two examples and I'll quit.

1. I just opened a basic checking/savings account with Wells Fargo yesterday since my local account in SLO wouldn't be of much use while I'm here in Boise. While I was looking up sites and resources for this letter, I noticed one of the sites reviewed banks. Curious, I checked out Wells. Well, not so hot. I'm not going to tell you what their problems are specifically, it'll mean more to you if you find out. However, many of their practices are not fair at all to many people and they have been rather slow to change. So now what do I do? People are being treated unjustly by the bank I just opened an account with. Do I firebomb my local branch? No. Do I judge everyone that has an account with them as horrible people? No. Do I make snide remarks every time I make a deposit? No. Do I close the account? Hm, that's tough. After a fair amount of thought, I've decided to try to work on behalf of the people who are getting the short end of the stick. Since I'm a customer, I can send letters that might just hold that much more weight. Also, they aren't going to benefit from my accounts all that much. Would I open a loan with them if they don't change their practices? No. I'm not sure what exactly I'll be doing in six months, either long term missions or sticking around in Boise, or who knows, but I figure at that point I can reevaluate and either continue pursuing justice (with mercy!) in their bank as their customer, or I can try to find another bank that perhaps helps support good causes and has fair lending practices. Is this the 100% just path? I don't know, but its something. God directs our steps, when we trust in Him. I trust that He calls us to pursue justice, and once I've started to do that, I know He will guide the specifics.

2. Last summer, a friend of mine, Ryan (howdy!), was given some extra money for a job he did. He decided to put it to good use and invited me and another fellow to go and find a homeless person and buy dinner for them. Previous to this, I had seen a number of homeless folks around town, and I knew God was wanting me to talk to them or something, but honestly, I just didn't have the courage to do so. That fear of awkwardness of going up to a stranger and trying to start some sort of conversation about who knows what was too much. I agreed, and we went. It was amazing, we met a homeless man and asked him if he wanted dinner, he said yes, we asked him if he would come with us, he said yes, and so we ended up going to Applebees. My friend paid for his dinner and we had an awesome conversation. In fact, the guy we met was super encouraging in so many ways. Way to go Ryan. First, even to look to generously help out someone is great, but also to invite people along at the same time is amazing too. And it was an awesome time.

If you remember the very first e-mail I sent out, I mentioned many of the verses in Luke about how to follow Christ, He called his disciples to pretty much abandon everything and follow Him. I also mentioned that pretty much no one had done this, except for, well Joe. That was the homeless fellow's name. He had left working on an oil rig in Texas, at the age of 19. He was pulling down a really good wage, but the long hours and long stretches of time left him without any time to spend with God. So he quit. He seriously up and quit, everything. He figured he should have time to spend with God and so he just planted himself along the side of the road with nothing but his clothes and a bible. He's been out on the road for over 20 years now. He works mostly as a minister to the other homeless, preaching the gospel and helping them out as he can. The stories he could tell of how God provided for him time after time blew my mind. What really
amazed me was when I invited him to church on Sunday (howdy Grace folks!). A) he found Grace Church and showed up (I had invited him on Friday night) B) when the offering parcel came around, he dug in his pockets, pulled out the change he had and dropped it in. I thought, this can't be real. This guy has essentially only whatever "little" God gives him, yet he gives it back so freely. And it wasn't like it was hard, that was his life, and he lived for God therefore God's life was in him. Yes he was homeless, he smelled, his teeth were a mess, he has some mildly crazy ideas, but that's not what's important. He is an amazing guy following God the best he can. Maybe you'll meet him one day. Justice is not a one time act, its your whole life, submitted as an act of service to your neighbors and an act of worship to God. I hope this makes the point. Follow Jesus, obey and love him, live justly. It may seem weird or out there. It may sound costly (it is), but it is seriously the only way to live.

Alright, that's enough. You are all so truly amazing. I have cherished every response, even if I haven't been able to replied to it. I cannot thank you enough for all your prayers. They were totally effective, even to the point where I could tell when people weren't praying for me:) I hope you have been blessed by the emails, if not, let me know how to improve them so that if I'm ever in a similar situation, they will be better. I miss you all, but now I hope to personally catch up with you. Stay strong, seek the Lord, and
Press on for Joy!
Cameron

C-mail, its over...

Howdy all,

1. The Lima Trek is over, sad times. Although other treks are still out and you can read about the treks around the world at: http://www.urbana.org/feat.trek.home.cfm. I'm actually back in Boise right now since I got sick, again, and decided the wisest choice was to wimp out, return home, and get better. I'm on the mend, but I don't know how long it will take to get completely better, but its nice to be back regardless. I'll be heading back to SLO and do the California tour thing in hopefully two weeks. If you're in CA and want to be visited, let me know, place, time and such and I'll see what I can do.

2. The trip ended well and tough at the same time, see the story below (being completed as we speak on the blog: http://pressonforjoy.blogspot.com/) if you're up to a grand amount reading. We got the playground done, as well as the community center, and the community of San Martin gave us a great going away time and cooked for us (which was awesome of them, except we had already had a large lunch two hours prior, so some of us had a difficult time cramming down the last quarter pound of rice. I think I have the stomach of a hobbit, so I was only too glad to get a second lunch.) They also regaled us with a number of individual gifts from families, pins, dances, and knit beanies (except with the ear flaps (this style of hat is a Peruvian invention called a chullo (pronounced chew-yo or chew-jo depending on what side of town/South America you grew up in (don't you love parenthesis?)))). We finished the trip with a few days in Lima proper doing some tours of the town and seeing some more cultural things. Highlight of my life: CATACOMBS! Overall, the trip was amazing, good was done, people were loved with Jesus' love, bridges were built between our team and the Peruvian team as well as between some of the long term missionaries and San Martin, and the road is paved for continued partnership between future global urban treks and the Peruvian student ministry.

3. Leaving is tough, but only once you've actually left. First, goodbye to San Martin, then the kids from the area at our World Vision living site, then the Peruvian students, then the Peruvian staff, then the whole American part of the team. I sat in the airport in LAX on Friday realizing that it was the first time I was alone for over a month. Before this trip, I had expected to breakdown into tears looking into the tragic face of poverty or something empathetic of that sort. But no, it was just when I was completely by myself and isolated that I couldn't stop sobbing, which I gotta say, is really embarrassing, so major hats off to all those girls I've known that ever started crying in public, way to be. I think that it just goes to show that my team was/is awesome, all of it, Peru and united states.

4. The next email will be the last. That one will be the lessons learned, and the follow up on the promise of how you can get involved and help poverty across the globe. (And yes, I think I kinda have an idea for you, yes you, and no, I won't ask for money).

5. Again, thank you for all your prayers. My Spanish was more than enough to get by and communicate even to the point of a few deep conversations. I have to give all credit to God and your prayers on my behalf. If you were praying for Jorge (pronounced hor-hay, not sure about spelling) check the story below. Also, thanks so much for writing back, its always awesome to get email and I hope to respond at some point this week.

Alright, that's it for now,
Press on for Joy!
Cameron


Ok, the following is going to be tough to write, so bear with me, I'm going to try to go through the following experiences sequentially. Unfortunately, I think that it will make this super long, so yeah, here it goes. Read in sections if you so wish, or just skip to the end for the lesson, but you'll miss a lot.

1st Encounter.

It must have the been after out first night of sleep in San Antonio at the World Vision building. After being rudely awakened at 6:00 am by the seismic horn of the water truck making its rounds, it was difficult to get back to sleep. Breakfast was at 8 so I stayed in the sleeping bag till about 8. I dressed, got up, and moseyed outside. The building had a concrete walkway with a wall at about perfect sitting height running about half the length of the building. Our team had just founded this spot as the hang out zone before breakfast. I don't really know how to introduce what I next noticed as I stepped outside, so here goes. CRAZY GUY. There was a crazy guy out in the dirt street, right outside our concrete deck. Every so often he would yell out in a loud but dulled voice. I couldn't understand it, and even if my spanish was perfect, I don't know how much I would have understood. He squat down on thin legs revealed by tattered shorts and terminating in stained flip flops. He covered himself in a greasy black jacket. His hair was curly and looked liked it had been heavily gelled, but it had probably never been washed. He held a plastic bottle with the bottom quarter full of a black liquid. He never drank it, but held it close. He would move from squatting to jumping to convulsing to squatting again. I figured the people on the deck knew something I didn't, so I waited for something else to happen.

Now, I'm just a clueless about how to handle "crazy" people as the next person, and so often that leads to inaction. And awkwardness. And that what was our teams response, we chatted, thrown off guard by every incoherent scream, and kept going. I was kinda disappointed. We were here to help the poor, right? Just because someone is crazy doesn't mean they are outside God's love, right? Isn't God big enough to handle this guy even when we're not? I kept looking over at him and was so broken for him. I guess was frustrated me most was that we had no way to act. Nor even a way to try. So, I just started praying. Now, what I should have done would have been to say to everyone out there, "Hey, this is awkward, there's a crazy guy right here, what should we do?". But I didn't, and I'm sorry I didn't. Big lesson learned: step up if something is awkward and needs to be dealt with, no matter the situation or group, don't wait for someone else to do it.

After breakfast, the team left to go to their work sites. The construction team I was part of (we soon renamed ourselves the team of destruction) stayed behind to finish building some showers on the deck. I was on the roof of the building and saw the crazy guy in the street and someone from the town grappling with him. The crazy guy wasn't doing to well. It looked like a small bag of candy was the object of contention and the "normal" man wrestled it out of his hand after a half minute. The normal man proceeded to walk away, pick up a rock and chuck it at the crazy guy. It missed, but the crazy guy laughed evilly and squat down. Next time I had a chance to look, he was gone.


2nd Encounter.

It was later that night when I thought about that guy again. It was during worship. I can't remember what made me think of him, one of the songs or something, but I just thought about that guy and how I had failed to do something, anything for him. I kept thinking how we had come to help out the least of these, and this guy definitely was it. After worship, we were given some time of silence. I went outside and sat down a few yards from the building. A few others filtered out as well. I can't remember what all I was thinking, but after about 15 mins, here he came. He sporadically made his way up the street in the yellow lamp light. I ended up locking eyes with him as he jaggedly sauntered over to me. "Que te quieres?" I asked. (I wanted to say "Que tu quieres" which means "what do you want", but I think what I said might mean "what do you want of yourself" , which might have been a better question anyways). He laughed uncomfortably loud, and sounded out some word I didn't know. He stood there looking at me, eyes so acute, yet so dead. He was only two feet away. He loudly spoke another drawn out word. He starred for another second then pulled together the corners of his mouth and spit at me. I was leaning forward a bit and jerked back well after the fact his spittle hit the ground between my feet. I don't think I had ever been spit at before, except for possibly sometime in my dark childhood days, but I'd prefer not to think about that. Needless to say, I was thrown off and a bit frozen. I just kept staring at him, searching his eyes. Why was he like this? Who is this guy? He spit again, again I pulled back, but it wasn't necessary. He laughed dementedly. What can I do? How do I show this guy that Jesus loves him and is his only hope? This must have gone on twice more. I can't remember if I said anything else to him or just tried to give the most compassionate smile I could muster. Finally, the confrontation was broken when one of the Peruvian staff came over.
"Let's go" he kindly asked.
"What's he saying?"
"He's saying bad words, only bad words. So let's go"
"k"
I stood up, at which point the crazy guy made a dash straight past my left. I had completely forgotten that one of the directors of our team was sitting a few feet behind me. She had gotten ready to run while the other staff came up, but the crazy guy was going to try to her reach anyways. I came to realize this once I had turned around and saw the whole thing play out. I called out to the guy to stop, he didn't. He couldn't catch her anyways. At this point the security guard began to chase the guy away.

The girl who was chased was shaken up and rightfully so, but was ok. I was in the same state. I stayed out on the deck a bit longer watching the guard chase and scare the guy away. At some point the guy ran off to a nearby house with a pig pen and the pigs went nuts with their unsettling squeals. I went to bed at this point. I was still pretty shocked and just lay there. I pretty much resolved to always pray for him, everyday I was there, and rest in the fact that God can and will restore him. I know God cares for those on the outside, the outcasts, and I was asking for God to heal, love and restore this one. I didn't know what else to do, and it seemed that any type of action other than distant prayer might endanger the team or myself (which would endanger the team if anything happened and my parents found out). At some point, staring at the ceiling, praying, asking questions, resolving and replaying the encounter over and over to try to deaden the impact, I fell asleep.


That's all I'm going to write here for now. I'll be working to complete the story on the blog, so check there for updates. Sorry to go to be continued, but I figure I'd get this out as soon as I could. Thanks for reading this far. There's a good lesson at the end that I thought was worth it, but that's how it happened in my life, and I think my life is worth it.

Alright, much love to you all,
Press on for Joy!