Making Good Theater

I spent a good chunk of my time yesterday morning talking to a coworker about budgeting, fundraising and stewardship. We talked about how close to our heart our resources are, and how easy it is to get worried and fearful. We also talked about how Christ constantly invites us to a life of faith and faithfulness to Him. I must confess I left that call feeling so wise. I took a couple minutes to reminiscence about my different experiences of working in Christian ministries for the last fifteen years doing finances. The trip down memory lane left me feeling so pleased with myself. My heart is in the right place, I thought.

A couple hours later, I got a call from the husband who is working with a team from his home church in Jarabacoa this week. They needed a few extra putty knives, and could I please go find them and bring them up when I came later that afternoon. I went to his toolbox, and found the putty knives, and then, in what came as a natural reflex, without giving it much thought, I just reached for the sharpie and wrote down 'Clifford' in both handles. I placed them on my desk, and went about my business.

Toddler napping, and two boys playing in the sandbox, I found myself with time to sit down and unwind. After checking the news for a few minutes, and become quite disheartened, I thought maybe I should just do some Bible reading. I've been doing a series on the Sermon of the Mount, and what do you know, the reading for the day was on Giving.

"Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don’t make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won’t be applauding." Matthew 6:1 (The Message).

The putty knives with my name on them came to mind. And it suddenly became obvious that my heart is not always in the right place. I thought about how, being honest, I wanted to make sure someone knew those two putty knives were ours.

Look at us, serving together as a family in a foreign land! Look at us, so willing to give our things to the ministry whenever they need them! Look at us, always ready to serve when needed! And please, look out, make sure you take care of my things because, well... they are mine (specially the one that was chewed by our dog!). Look at me, so afraid of fully giving... afraid of losing.

May we learn how to give in a Christ-like manner, in freedom, and complete trust that whatever loss we may foresee when giving will be plenty satisfied by our Heavenly Father.

Unwritten and Wordless

When I was little, one of my favorite people in the whole world moved away. My uncle and aunt went to study in the United States, taking my closest cousin with them. After a couple of years, they went as missionaries to Spain. My parents and her parents stayed in touch. They would send letters and pictures, and every four years, they would come back. In my teenage years, every once in a while, I would write her a letter. Sometimes, I would start it and actually never even get to the end - the unfinished letter being put away with some other papers in my closet. Other times, I would finish it, put it in an envelope, address it, but never take the bus to the nearest post office. Lucky for us, we ended up (very miraculously) going to the same college, so we got three solid years of being only a floor away from each other in the dorm.

I have a box full of wedding thank you notes that I didn't write. After seven years, I finally threw away the ones I wrote but never mailed. Words come easy to me, but they seem to leave as quickly as they come. Maybe I just need to finish what I start. Maybe it's that sometimes, I'm afraid I don't have the right words to truly express what I wish to say. (Maybe that's why this blog has been dormant since November.)

This week, I realized that the same thing happens to me with prayer a lot of times. I pray for others, and if I tell you that I am praying for you, I am. However, when it comes to bringing my own needs before the Lord, words elude me. What do I really want to pray for? What do I need? Where do I even begin? And sometimes, I start and then don't really know where it is that I was going to with the prayer. And so, I just tuck it away.

I was in this nebulous place earlier this week. I was worried about our kids, thinking I needed to pray for them, but not quite getting how to pray, or for what. It bothered me, and I just had this feeling that I needed to pray for something, and I couldn't put a finger on it.

Yesterday, I got a text from one of my dear friends from Guatemala who now lives in Austria. We hadn't spoken since Christmas. She said "you've been on my mind. Everyone doing OK?" So, as we start texting, and I'm trying to think if I can actually dive into a deep conversation right then and there, while at the grocery store with one child in tow, she says 'I dreamed about your kids, and I didn't get much detail, but I understood that the Lord wants me to be praying for them... that I'm supposed to take care of them in prayer.'

Wait. What? For days, I've been feeling that I need to pray, and I can't find the words, and this friend on the other side of the world dreams about having to pray for my children! You see, when I start writing and don't send a letter, or I don't post it, the words fall flat. They vanish.

But with prayer... oh with prayer, it's a whole new different supernatural ball game. Romans 8:26-27 tells us this fun dynamic: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. " 

Giving Thanks

In much of the Dominican Republic, summer is summer is a time of oppressive heat. It is often drier, and the combination of heat and drought make many plants turn brown and even lose their leaves, but without the beautiful fall colors seen in the US. Dominicans don’t talk about spring or fall. These are simply times of slightly less heat. But in the winter, it cools off and we have more rain. We also have little wind. It gets quiet. It is like nature is resting and enjoying the comfortable conditions. There is green growth everywhere.

Right now I feel like this. At camp we had our busiest year ever. While this is good (tons of kids accepted Christ, many of these returned for discipleship weekends and training camps, and 34 Dominican churches made use of Pico for their retreats), it comes at a cost. We are tired. But God is good. He gives us seasons in our lives, including times to slow down a bit and reflect on all He has done for us.

I love Thanksgiving. While this is not an official holiday in the Dominican Republic, we have made it a tradition at Pico Escondido. We take the afternoon off and invite the family members of all of our Pico employees to come for an afternoon of fellowship, followed by a time of reflecting on all we have to be thankful for and then a big evening meal. We had about 60 people around our table this year. We have much for which to be thankful. I am thankful for my family. As someone who didn’t get married until he was in his forties, it is still somewhat of a miracle in my mind that I have an amazing wife and three wonderful kids. I am thankful for all the people that have contributed toward making Pico the place it is today. This list is long: financial supporters who have given generously both to build Pico and sustain me and my family; Pico staff and former staff who have poured their blood, sweat and tears into this place; volunteers from the US who have come and made Pico better through their time here; wise counselors who have helped guide the process of managing these resources. But most of all, we are thankful to God, who makes all things possible.

Thanksgiving dinner at Pico

 

Thanksgiving, part 1

Of Buiscuits and Life

When it comes to cooking for three small children, it can feel like you're on one of those cooking shows when time is pressing, and there are three judges who will hold nothing back. It's often a hit or miss. Not with biscuits. Biscuits (and tortillas con frijoles) are one of those few tried and true items everyone in our house loves - every time!

So, on Wednesday, I thought biscuits were the right choice for the evening. I was on the phone with a friend, kids were running around, and I was making this recipe I basically know by heart. All was fine, but I inadvertently grabbed the smallest biscuit cutter and I suddenly found myself with over 20 biscuits, needing to use two baking sheets. I was still on the phone when the husband started setting up the table and suddenly there was only one baking sheet with 6 biscuits on it where I had left two.

There's a table on the side of our dinning room, and there I saw the other baking sheet full of biscuits. So, I went ahead and prepped the plates for the boys with what I had in the kitchen, putting two biscuits on each plate to cool off (because, temperature is as key as flavor is, folks), and knowing that the husband and I could get our own from the ones in the dining room.

The boys came in from washing their hands, plates were served for them, each boy with two freshly baked biscuits on their plate, baby girl with one, and I had put one in Roy's plate to finish the ones in the kitchen. But when one of the boys saw this, he completely lost it. Right then and there, this boy who loves biscuits had a meltdown.

As we tried to calm him down and find out what had upset him so, we were able to gather that from his perspective, two biscuits for him wasn't right. He was sad there would be no seconds. He was upset his papa only had one. He was mad that the biscuits had run out before he even sat down. He had no control, no saying, over how biscuits were given. He had not seen the baking sheet on the corner, a sheet full of biscuits, fifteen of them! Even after showing him the other biscuits, it was hard for him to overcome the initial disappointment and it was a while before he could actually enjoy his food.

Later that evening, I was with a group of friends at Bible study, and the subject was on fear of the future. We had watched a video, and we were talking about the different things about the future that make us afraid. I have a brother battling cancer. I have a kid going through a very rough time. I have trips that need to happen soon and what seems like a tight time frame to make them all happen. And as we shared, I thought of the biscuits.

Oh so many times I am that child who receives one of his favorite things for dinner, but the arrangement still doesn't feel quite right. What if I want more? What if I want seconds? Will there be enough for me in the future? What if there's more for someone else but not for me? And while I am asking all these questions, I'm missing out on the meal that has already been set before me.

"You fathers - if your children ask for a fish, do you given them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him." (Luke 11:11)

"Since he did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for us all, won't he also give us everything else?" (Romans 8:32)

When God Gives You Lemons (I Mean, Limes)...

We got home a week ago on Sunday, after being two months in the United States. We had an amazing time seeing friends and family (more on that on the days to come...). After dropping all our bags in, I left to do some grocery shopping to get the basics for the next couple days. When I was in town, I met with my brother and he came to the store with me. As we were walking around, he noticed that the store had limes. He was excited to see limes. He said, "you can't find them anywhere and they're so expensive right now!"

I didn't think too much about it, other than making a mental note of "don't expect to find limes then." A few days later, I was reading Psalms 37, and I noticed verse 19:  "In times of disaster they will not wither; in days of famine they will enjoy plenty."

What a nice promise, I thought... and for a while just sat there wondering how this could even be possible. How does the Lord do that? What does that look like?

The day progressed, our friend Yudi came to watch the kids, and she was carrying a large black plastic bag. It was full of limes! She told me how there's a tree in her house and she has way too many!

Nowhere to be found, and too expensive... by the handful in my pantry for free!

We got home, hit the ground running, started getting ready to start the weeks of camp ahead of us, but we continue being amazed at how the Lord takes care of us!

Not The Lent I Signed Up For

Sawdust carpet in Antigua Guatemala (photo by Annette Aguilar)

Lent. The season of slowing down and meditating on Christ's days leading to his death. Lent makes me homesick. There is nothing like lent in Guatemala. The city turns purple, and you will undoubtedly find processions throughout the season. The flower and sawdust carpets adorn streets.
The mayor's office publishes an official day-to-day calendar of all the city's activities. You can't escape it. And so this year, I started lent feeling meh. Feeling like it was not lent yet.

I gave some thought to the things I wanted to give up, and realize rather than giving up something, I much needed to take up an abandoned practice - getting up early. I really missed those early times of having an hour to myself. I envisioned great times of reading Scripture, digging deep, writing page after page in my journal, and why not, drinking that cup of coffee while still warm and in one sitting.

Alas, the one kid who wakes up every night with a different issue, the other kid who despite turning one still thinks I'm her personal 24-hour buffet, and my night-owl wayward ways, made me realized that I had not set myself up for success here. My friends and I read through Isaiah. The plan we were following was very heavy on the reading, and there were times I would read, and re-read, and still it would feel like nothing was entering my head.

So, I felt I was flunking lent. This whole season wasn't really going the way I had envisioned it. Then, one Friday afternoon, two weeks before Easter, one of the kids came down with a fever and started throwing up. That week, five of our little friends had been hospitalized with a stomach virus, and I just knew these were the same symptoms. A few hours later, I got a voice message from my brother Pablo, sharing some heavy health news. We spoke that night. Things were not looking great, but nothing could be known until he underwent surgery, perhaps in the next couple weeks.

That night, Roy and I took turns taking care of a sick little boy - my sick brother always in the back of my mind. As I watched Daniel sleep, I thought of how Jesus said we are to become like children. I had always thought if it as an invitation to the all-believing, joyful, laid back beings they often are. But here was a needy, weak and sick little boy. I thought of Jesus as a sick three year old boy.

Photo by Annette Aguilar

"Who has believed our message...?" Indeed. As I spent all my energy cloroxing every inch of my I could not risk contagion, it was really hard to believe this wild story of such dire suffering and salvation. It's still really hard for me to believe that a 29-year-old man whose diapers I changed as a baby, who I played hide-and-seek with, who I watched grow, is going through physical pain and anguish I cannot fathom.

"A man of sorrow... familiar with pain" And this cuts deep. Oh... pain and I are no strangers. But no matter how many times the pain has struck, I want to quickly turn my face away. I want to avoid more. I want to run away from it. And it is hard for me to see Christ in pain. I want to see him in glory. I want to see him in miracles. But I don't want to see him in pain.

I ended up driving past midnight to the ER with my boy. We were sent home about an hour later. Saturday afternoon, as I was still caring for the sick boy, still trying to clean up messes and keep the other two kids safe, we got another message. It was now the brother's turn to head to the ER, except his wouldn't be an hour-long visit. He would spend the next morning in surgery, where doctors were to find his cancer is back, rather aggressive. He spent the next three days in ICU. He then came home a week after that. Went back in this past Tuesday.

I spent hours the Monday after his surgery looking for flights. Nothing would work out. I've never experienced this before, but it really was impossible to fly during that week. And so, I stayed home... caring for the other two kids who had caught up with the virus. And as I sat there, a hundred questions racing through my mind, thinking 'when then, do I get to go?' the prophet I have been reading comes to mind:

"Who among you fears the Lord
    and obeys the word of his servant?
Let the one who walks in the dark,
    who has no light,
trust in the name of the Lord
    and rely on their God." (Isaiah 50:10)

No early morning, Scripture filled, coffee-flavored, long-handed journal entry Lent for me. But a messy, sickness-filled, uncertain, and scary Lent. And a Divine invitation to trust. I am reminded, once again, about Jesus farewell to his disciples, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Thoughts about Planting Trees and Glory

Roy's reflections 

Last week we welcomed our first US work team of 2017. It is always an exciting time for us. The work team impact is huge - much of what exists at Pico has been made by them. This year they are planting trees, assembling bunk beds, improving access, building gazebos, erecting safety fences, pouring sidewalks, creating shade, making benches, painting dorms... We look at their work (and ours) as lovingly caring for holy ground. 

Recently I have been reading Revelations. This is a tricky book of the Bible for me. I like the concrete - things I can see and touch and wrap my hands around. I studied engineering and not philosophy for good reasons. I prefer to focus on the practical side of life. So I confess that Revelations is sometimes a bit "out there" for me. But in the last couple of years, God has been taking me through experiences that have made practical and "out there" intersect for me.

This morning I went back to the first chapter in Revelations. John paints a very vivid picture of Jesus. This is no longer the Jesus that walked around in the skin of a Galilean carpenter, but the Jesus that had returned to his full glory. 

^"I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. The hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance." [Rev. 1:12-16]

I tend to think of Jesus in in more down-to-earth terms. As one who likes to work with wood, I am comfortable thinking about Jesus the carpenter who was fully God, but looked more or less like me. Yet I cheat myself if I keep Jesus in the box of human limitations. The reality is that while our God loves and cares for us, he is not our nanny. He is holy, magnificent, all-powerful, full of glory and worthy of our fear and praise and wonder. 

Many of you have never been to Pico Escondido, but I hope you all have places where God has given you glimpses of Himself. These are holy places. Normal spaces transformed by God's glory. The Apostle John's island of Patmos was a Roman prison. Yet it was where God gave him an amazing vision of Christ in all of his true glory. For hundreds of adolescents each summer, Pico Escondido becomes the same thing. It is a place they come to because it sounds like a lot of fun - because we have a pool and a giant swing and great food and lots of other people their ages. Yet for many of those who come it is transformed into holy ground - the place where they met Jesus.