They were on their knees, raising their hands to an all-powerful God-- knowing how much they needed him. They were beautiful.
Goosebumps covered my arms and I found myself shivering involuntarily. What was going on with me? It wasn't like I'd never seen worship before. I wasn't a stranger to chapel-- not chapel in my school. What was going on?
Let's back tack...
Wednesdays we have chapel at my school. High school has it first period and the junior high has it second and third periods. The seventh and eighth graders have it second and the fifth and sixth graders have chapel third. Allison was asked to give chapel to the middle schoolers(it was amazing, by the way) and I asked my chemistry teacher to get out of class so I could hear her speak. At the beginning of third period I sneaked into the fifth and sixth grade chapel and stood in the back while worship started. Lilia led worship and it was beautiful.
So why the goosebumps?
As I sang and worshipped God, I couldn't help but notice all the kids jumping up and down for joy in front of me. The fast-paced songs incited their joy, but as soon as the music shifted to a slower song, the kids adjusted accordingly. Before I knew it, I saw many of them falling to their knees, their hands raised, crying out to God. This wasn't just one or two students... the majority of them stood or knelt there with hands completely extended towards heaven.
I couldn't help thinking back to when I was in fifth grade. Yeah, I loved God... but I wasn't desperately passionate for him. I began wondering what would have been different if I had found that passion earlier on... I wondered if they realized how unique they were.
I soon found my eyes watering, and before long, I was dabbing at my eyes...
How many years had I wasted thinking that my Christian faith was simply an accessory for life? How many years had I wasted by trying to compartmentalize my faith?
It was a beautiful thing... watching the hearts of these children, desperate for God.
Blessed are those who thirst and hunger for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
I have no doubt in my mind that these students will be filled.
They will see God...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sin? No sin? Or simply love...
Ahh... the gray issues.
We tend to get caught up thinking about whether things are permissible or simply beneficial. We try to avoid legalism, yet don't want to fall into libertarianism. We try to categorize things: white and black. However, some things just fall into "gray." There's no way around that, really.
Everywhere I turn lately, I get bombarded with the message concerning "gray issues." I figured God really wanted me to learn something. I've been processing, and frankly, I haven't reached a concise conclusion, so excuse me while I process things as I write...
Why?
Because there's a selfish beast inside of me that demands to have its desires met. It craves to be comfortable. It isn't satisfied with serving others. These verses attempt to put this beast to death. And while it begins to die, it squeals and screeches, wanting to stay alive inside of me.
It tells me...
Why should I have to limit my freedom just because someone else can't handle it?
Why would I have to be uncomfortable just because someone else is sensitive?
How am I responsible for someone else sinning?
These verses go against our human nature in every possible way. It makes no sense whatsoever, but then again... to the human mind, not much about Christianity makes sense.
Today I was talking to Allison, and as we talked we agreed that the verses that stuck out the most were the ones that spoke about love.
Paul urges the church to not do ANYTHING unless it is done out of love. The entire books of the law can be summarized in one word: love. Is it really that simple-- yet, so complex? Why do we prefer for someone to just tell us what to do, and we'll do it? We rather they ask for money and we'll write a check, than they ask us to love. WHY?
The fulfillment of the law is love. IS LOVE. All the laws were to teach the Israelites how to love-- what love looked like.
We're to do our best to work towards the mutual edification of Christ's community. Mutual edification. We must limit our freedom if it is hurting someone else. It no longer fits under the category of "freedom." It no longer is our freedom.
Perhaps we've been wrong all along. We've just always asked the wrong questions, expecting the right answers. Perhaps that's what happened and why we're where we're at right now...
When did we start asking, "Is this a sin?" and stop asking "Is this the best way I can show love?" When did we start asking, "Can I do this?" and stop asking "Is God glorified by my doing this?"
When did we start asking, "Is this alright for me to do?" and stop asking "Is this the wisest choice?"
We can't ever expect to get right answers when we haven't even figured out what questions to ask.
Our lives would be completely revolutionized and turned upside-down and inside-out if we only applied this to our own decisions half of the time.
If every decision we made was a concious choice to honor the people surrounding us, we wouldn't have to worry about sinning. If every decision made was in an effort to show love, how could we go wrong? And in the decisions not involving people, why do we stray towards the lines once more? We've been commanded to be holy, yet we try to get away with as much as we can. What if every time we made a decision we asked ourselves whether this would sanctify us more...
How would that change us?
Wouldn't "gray" issues be eliminated? How can it possibly be gray when God's glory is in question?
Love and holiness. Is that all this is about?
Is it simply a call to follow in the footsteps of a God who IS love, of a God who IS holy?
"Take up the cross and follow me."
(1) 1 Corinthians 8:9
(2) Romans 12:17
(3) Romans 14:1
(4) Romans 14:13
(5) Romans 14:19
(6) 1 Corinthians 8:13
(7) Romans 14:15
(8) Romans 14:21
(9) Romans 13:10
We tend to get caught up thinking about whether things are permissible or simply beneficial. We try to avoid legalism, yet don't want to fall into libertarianism. We try to categorize things: white and black. However, some things just fall into "gray." There's no way around that, really.
Everywhere I turn lately, I get bombarded with the message concerning "gray issues." I figured God really wanted me to learn something. I've been processing, and frankly, I haven't reached a concise conclusion, so excuse me while I process things as I write...
Be careful, however, that the excercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak (1)These verses make me uncomfortable. Not just slightly uncomfortable, though. They make me want to leave the room they're mentioned in. They make me want to close my Bible when I'm reading.
Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody (2)
Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgement of disputable matters (3)
Therefore let us stop passing judgement on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother's way (4)
Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification (5)
Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause him to fall. (6)
If your brother is distressed because of what you eat, you are no longer acting in love. Do not by your eating destroy your brother for whom Christ died. (7)
It is better not to eat meat or drink wine or to do anything else that will cause your brother to fall. (8)
Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the
fulfillment of the law. (9)
Why?
Because there's a selfish beast inside of me that demands to have its desires met. It craves to be comfortable. It isn't satisfied with serving others. These verses attempt to put this beast to death. And while it begins to die, it squeals and screeches, wanting to stay alive inside of me.
It tells me...
Why should I have to limit my freedom just because someone else can't handle it?
Why would I have to be uncomfortable just because someone else is sensitive?
How am I responsible for someone else sinning?
These verses go against our human nature in every possible way. It makes no sense whatsoever, but then again... to the human mind, not much about Christianity makes sense.
Today I was talking to Allison, and as we talked we agreed that the verses that stuck out the most were the ones that spoke about love.
Paul urges the church to not do ANYTHING unless it is done out of love. The entire books of the law can be summarized in one word: love. Is it really that simple-- yet, so complex? Why do we prefer for someone to just tell us what to do, and we'll do it? We rather they ask for money and we'll write a check, than they ask us to love. WHY?
The fulfillment of the law is love. IS LOVE. All the laws were to teach the Israelites how to love-- what love looked like.
We're to do our best to work towards the mutual edification of Christ's community. Mutual edification. We must limit our freedom if it is hurting someone else. It no longer fits under the category of "freedom." It no longer is our freedom.
Perhaps we've been wrong all along. We've just always asked the wrong questions, expecting the right answers. Perhaps that's what happened and why we're where we're at right now...
When did we start asking, "Is this a sin?" and stop asking "Is this the best way I can show love?" When did we start asking, "Can I do this?" and stop asking "Is God glorified by my doing this?"
When did we start asking, "Is this alright for me to do?" and stop asking "Is this the wisest choice?"
We can't ever expect to get right answers when we haven't even figured out what questions to ask.
Our lives would be completely revolutionized and turned upside-down and inside-out if we only applied this to our own decisions half of the time.
If every decision we made was a concious choice to honor the people surrounding us, we wouldn't have to worry about sinning. If every decision made was in an effort to show love, how could we go wrong? And in the decisions not involving people, why do we stray towards the lines once more? We've been commanded to be holy, yet we try to get away with as much as we can. What if every time we made a decision we asked ourselves whether this would sanctify us more...
How would that change us?
Wouldn't "gray" issues be eliminated? How can it possibly be gray when God's glory is in question?
Love and holiness. Is that all this is about?
Is it simply a call to follow in the footsteps of a God who IS love, of a God who IS holy?
"Take up the cross and follow me."
(1) 1 Corinthians 8:9
(2) Romans 12:17
(3) Romans 14:1
(4) Romans 14:13
(5) Romans 14:19
(6) 1 Corinthians 8:13
(7) Romans 14:15
(8) Romans 14:21
(9) Romans 13:10
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The Confession
“Apologize?” he asked, “But you—”
“Just listen,” she replied, “It’s a long list and I need you to understand.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I’m sorry for lying, lying about loving you. I mean, I do love you, but not how I say I do. I’m sorry for letting people and things get in the way of time with you. I feel like I grasp your hand in one moment, but when I need you most, I let go. As I’m falling I helplessly and hopelessly grab for anyone’s hand, yet to no avail: I fall without you. And that’s what really matters—that I’m without you. I’m sorry for going without you. I’m sorry for promising to change, but I keep falling and the scraped hands and bloody knees are enough to keep me broken on the floor.
“I’m sorry for failing to find my strength and complete joy in you. I ask you to strengthen me, yet when you do, I complain and ask you to stop. I know you’re strengthening me but I hate feeling so weak. Your joy is the only kind that satisfies, yet I’ve left it to a side, expecting to find more elsewhere. I’m sorry. Your joy should be enough for my pain. I’m sorry for taking your love for granted, for allowing my fears—” her voice broke and after a pause she continued, “for allowing my fears build walls that try to keep your love out. I’m sorry for basing my idea of you off of my relationships with others. I’m sorry for doubting your goodness. I’m sorry for expecting you to let me down. You never have, yet in my heart I keep waiting for the day that, you too, will fail me. I’m sorry for not making time to be with you, for waiting until the end of the day, if there’s time to spend time with you. I’m sorry for not making you first in my life. I’m sorry for lying as I sing. I tend to forget the value of the words that I’m singing, so I’m sorry for proclaiming things that are not true in me.”
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, “I’m sorry for pretending to follow in your footsteps. I say pretending because I tell you I do, and I tell others I do, yet I fail to see your footsteps in front of me before I take a step. I don’t wait to find your path; I’m too impatient to wait for your timing. There’s a selfish beast inside that snarls when you ask me to follow. I’m sorry for that—for keeping the beast inside, instead of doing everything possible to kill it. I’m sorry for saying that I trust you, yet I withhold the most basic aspects from you.”
She sighed and he began to interrupt, “But you don’t—”
“No. I need to finish. I’m sick of keeping this inside and letting the secrets and shame rot within,” she countered. Another breath. Pause—as if pausing would erase reason to voice the thoughts that were going through her mind. Pause—as if pausing would make this not be as real as it was. Her mouth opened, a tear slipped down her cheek and with her eyes still closed, she continued, “I’m sick of being broken and I’m sorry for telling everyone that only you can heal, yet I seem to be ashamed of showing you all my shattered pieces. I look for any magnet to hold, a magnet that will pull me together, but without you in the center, I’ll always be a body hosting a broken heart. I’m sick of being independent and self-sufficient, but most importantly I’m sorry for trying. I want you to pick up every piece of me, and I want you to put me together. I want you to hold my hand every day, and I want you to guide each footstep I take. I’m sorry for lying about what I want with every single action I take.”
The tears the streamed down her face continued, but the silent crying erupted into gasping sobs. He reached over to comfort her, but she pushed him aside and sat up abruptly.
“I’m not finished. There’s more,” she stammered. “I’m sorry for misrepresenting you time and time again. I’m sorry that, because of me, some won’t want to come to you. I said I wanted to be like you and follow you, and bring others to you, yet because of my stubborn selfishness, I’ve pushed many away. I’m sorry that you asked me to love how you love, yet I fail to even love myself. I’m sorry for saying I believe you, but when you tell me I’m yours and I’m fine the way I am, I’m sorry for not believing. I’m sorry for not feeding the poor or sacrificing myself for others. I’m sorry for not making you evident in every single area of my life. I’m sorry for being a broken mirror that’s trying to reflect you, but fails”
The sobs overcame her once again and this time, when he reached out and hugged her, she didn’t resist. Everything within her was collapsing. As he comforted her, a strange sense of peace, a peace that surpasses understanding began to fill her. The broken, sharp pieces inside suddenly didn’t seem so sharp. In Jesus’ arms, it didn’t matter that she was falling apart. He seemed to be the only one who could hold her together anyway.
“My daughter, this is why I died for you.”
“Just listen,” she replied, “It’s a long list and I need you to understand.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I’m sorry for lying, lying about loving you. I mean, I do love you, but not how I say I do. I’m sorry for letting people and things get in the way of time with you. I feel like I grasp your hand in one moment, but when I need you most, I let go. As I’m falling I helplessly and hopelessly grab for anyone’s hand, yet to no avail: I fall without you. And that’s what really matters—that I’m without you. I’m sorry for going without you. I’m sorry for promising to change, but I keep falling and the scraped hands and bloody knees are enough to keep me broken on the floor.
“I’m sorry for failing to find my strength and complete joy in you. I ask you to strengthen me, yet when you do, I complain and ask you to stop. I know you’re strengthening me but I hate feeling so weak. Your joy is the only kind that satisfies, yet I’ve left it to a side, expecting to find more elsewhere. I’m sorry. Your joy should be enough for my pain. I’m sorry for taking your love for granted, for allowing my fears—” her voice broke and after a pause she continued, “for allowing my fears build walls that try to keep your love out. I’m sorry for basing my idea of you off of my relationships with others. I’m sorry for doubting your goodness. I’m sorry for expecting you to let me down. You never have, yet in my heart I keep waiting for the day that, you too, will fail me. I’m sorry for not making time to be with you, for waiting until the end of the day, if there’s time to spend time with you. I’m sorry for not making you first in my life. I’m sorry for lying as I sing. I tend to forget the value of the words that I’m singing, so I’m sorry for proclaiming things that are not true in me.”
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, “I’m sorry for pretending to follow in your footsteps. I say pretending because I tell you I do, and I tell others I do, yet I fail to see your footsteps in front of me before I take a step. I don’t wait to find your path; I’m too impatient to wait for your timing. There’s a selfish beast inside that snarls when you ask me to follow. I’m sorry for that—for keeping the beast inside, instead of doing everything possible to kill it. I’m sorry for saying that I trust you, yet I withhold the most basic aspects from you.”
She sighed and he began to interrupt, “But you don’t—”
“No. I need to finish. I’m sick of keeping this inside and letting the secrets and shame rot within,” she countered. Another breath. Pause—as if pausing would erase reason to voice the thoughts that were going through her mind. Pause—as if pausing would make this not be as real as it was. Her mouth opened, a tear slipped down her cheek and with her eyes still closed, she continued, “I’m sick of being broken and I’m sorry for telling everyone that only you can heal, yet I seem to be ashamed of showing you all my shattered pieces. I look for any magnet to hold, a magnet that will pull me together, but without you in the center, I’ll always be a body hosting a broken heart. I’m sick of being independent and self-sufficient, but most importantly I’m sorry for trying. I want you to pick up every piece of me, and I want you to put me together. I want you to hold my hand every day, and I want you to guide each footstep I take. I’m sorry for lying about what I want with every single action I take.”
The tears the streamed down her face continued, but the silent crying erupted into gasping sobs. He reached over to comfort her, but she pushed him aside and sat up abruptly.
“I’m not finished. There’s more,” she stammered. “I’m sorry for misrepresenting you time and time again. I’m sorry that, because of me, some won’t want to come to you. I said I wanted to be like you and follow you, and bring others to you, yet because of my stubborn selfishness, I’ve pushed many away. I’m sorry that you asked me to love how you love, yet I fail to even love myself. I’m sorry for saying I believe you, but when you tell me I’m yours and I’m fine the way I am, I’m sorry for not believing. I’m sorry for not feeding the poor or sacrificing myself for others. I’m sorry for not making you evident in every single area of my life. I’m sorry for being a broken mirror that’s trying to reflect you, but fails”
The sobs overcame her once again and this time, when he reached out and hugged her, she didn’t resist. Everything within her was collapsing. As he comforted her, a strange sense of peace, a peace that surpasses understanding began to fill her. The broken, sharp pieces inside suddenly didn’t seem so sharp. In Jesus’ arms, it didn’t matter that she was falling apart. He seemed to be the only one who could hold her together anyway.
“My daughter, this is why I died for you.”
Thursday, April 9, 2009
"I'm in the butthole of the Earth!"
She stumbled over a rock and nearly fell over. I stifled a laugh and took a breath before asking, "Steph! Are you ok?" Allison, however, couldn't keep the laugh in as Stephanie answered:
"No, Viviana! I'm not ok! I'm in the butthole of the Earth. I almost fell over. We lost your parents. I'm hungry and I'm tired. I'm not ok! Is that what you wanted to know?"
At this point, I about died laughing. As I looked around me, realization started setting in. We really were in the middle of nowhere. All I could see were the Andes mountains surrounding me, and I couldn't even mentally place where I was on a map...
So where exactly is this "butthole?" Let's back up just a bit...
Spring break. A whole week off of school. Paradise, I know. My parents love travelling so they began thinking of an excellent trip for this spring break. What they came up with? Packing up and jumping into the car for a road trip south of Bogota: Huila, Colombia.
We left Bogota on Friday, April 3 and drove about four hours away to break the trip up. The next morning we continued driving and had some car troubles on the way. After a couple of hours we came upon a dirt road which we had to travel for two or three hours.
I absolutely loved this part of our journey =) My dad let me drive through the Tatacoa Desert and we were on a mission to get the car as dirty and muddy as possible. The result? An extremely bumpy car ride with Steph, Allison and my mom clutching each other in the back seat.
The scenery was absolutely amazing. Simply gorgeous. Red, orange and brown rock formations scattered the horizon. Where there weren't rocks, the Andes Mountains stood out in the background. Basically, we took two hours driving through one of the most beautiful places I have seen.
That night we stayed in a cheap "cabin" in the middle of the desert. Suggestion: If you ever get the chance to go to the Tatacoa, DO NOT STAY IN THESE CABINS. The bugs were vicious and the heat was unbearable. Thankfully, we were planning on leaving early the next morning so the night didn't seem so long.
In the morning we had the chance to go swimming in a natural swimming pool in the middle of a desert. Go figure. I've never been swimming anywhere in such a strange surrounding. Rock formations surrounded us, as we swam in a spring, in a desert. Strange, but incredible.
Then... we were off to our next destination: Tierradentro.
This place is known for the archaeological sites it has. But first, we had to drive 40 km into this remote village. I know 40 kilometers doesn't seem like much, but let's just put it like this: Driving these 40 km took us three hours. These were by far the worst roads I have EVER driven on. As a Colombian, that's saying a TON! The more we wound through the mountains on a dirt road, the more I felt like I had no idea on Earth where I was. While we were driving there were a couple minutes of silence until my dad broke the silence with hysterical laughter. We kept asking him why he was laughing, until in broken English he spat out, "We're in the butthole of the Earth."
The phrase stuck.
Finally we arrived. Tierradentro was gorgeous. It was a small town (merely 3000 residents) nestled in the heart of the Andes. The people were so open and friendly. It was simply beautiful. That night, as we were walking to dinner, the whole Stephanie-tripping-on-a-rock episode happened. It was quite entertaining =) Sunday night was an early to bed night because the next morning we'd be hiking around exploring some tombs.
Early Monday morning we visited the archaeological museums in town before heading up the mountain. Soon we were heading up on a 30 minute hike to a small plateau. Up there, the view was breath-taking. The mountains were overwhelming. This wasn't just a "Oh wow. Look at the mountain" kind of moment. It was a "Holy dang. There are LAYERS of mountains." Once we admired God's creation for some time, we began climbing into ancient Indian tombs. It was fascinating.
And once again, we were off to our next stop: San Agustin.
So we embarked on our three-hour bumpy car ride once again. And once again, it was indescribably gorgeous.
San Agustin: Archaeological capital of Colombia.
After several hours of driving we finally arrive in San Agustin. The hotel we stayed in was clean and the mattresses were heavenly compared to our last couple of nights. I slept wonderfully on Monday night.
Tuesday morning was absolutely fantastic: horseback riding AND STEPH'S BIRTHDAY!
When the guide pointed me to my hourse, I must say, I was a little disappointed. It was sort of small and didn't look like it enjoyed speed at all. Boy, was I ever wrong!
My horse (named Gasoline) was fiesty and loved competition. Bahaha. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself tremendously. We began riding through the mountains, stopping at places where they had found old indian statues. It was fascinating and beautiful at the same time. Allison and I had tons of fun racing through the dirt roads near San Agustin. After five long hourse, we finally dismounted our horses and limped back to the hotel.
Not long after, we all climbed back into the car and headed off to see El Salto de Bordones, the talles waterfall in Colombia, which happens to be the second tallest in all of South America.
On the way, Steph asked if she could have guinea pig for lunch (a typical meal in Huila). My parents thought it was fitting for the birthday girl to chose her own lunch, so they agreed. Allison was horrified. I was slightly bewildered, but slightly intrigued. Upon arrival, my dad started joking around with the restaurant owner (surprise, surprise) and asked if Steph could pick out her own lunch... choose the doomed guinea pig. The owner said of course she could. It was only natural. Soon, he brought Steph a white sack with two guinea pigs in it. Before long, the poor guinea pig was on its way to death. As if that's not enough... My dad asked if Steph could be the one to kill it. A simple nod was all it took. Steph turned and asked if I'd be willing to videotape the whole ordeal and I politely declined. Allison began to lose color in her face. My dad agreed to film the process. Allison and I went back to our seats and tried to think of happier thoughts... like marshmellows and chocolate, but to no avail: we could hear everything. The three whacks on the head of the guinea pig. The scraping off of the fur. It really was traumatizing. And then poor Allison... she had guinea pigs as pets!
Then back came Steph... and soon afterwards the guinea pig. We tried convincing Allison to take a bite and finally did. Trust me, it wasn't easy. Then of course, I had to try some as well... Not bad, actually.
Wow. Long detour... So, anyway!
The waterfall was gorgeous :)It took us another two hours of driving on dirt roads to get there. Crazy thing was, I started to think about how many other forgotten places like these were in this world? This clearly wasn't the only "butthole" that existed. How many other hidden corners of exotic beauty existed that few eyes ever had the privelage of seeing? When I think of the answers to those questions, I can only come up with one conclusion. God really did create ALL of this simply to display his glory. Crazy, huh? And half the time, we're too busy to even notice it.
The next morning (Wednesday, I believe), my mom and I headed off to visit an archeaolgical park that had hundreds of ancient statues. It was a lot of fun and it was quite fascinating :)
After that, we departed and began driving home. Thirteen hours later, I was home.
"No, Viviana! I'm not ok! I'm in the butthole of the Earth. I almost fell over. We lost your parents. I'm hungry and I'm tired. I'm not ok! Is that what you wanted to know?"
At this point, I about died laughing. As I looked around me, realization started setting in. We really were in the middle of nowhere. All I could see were the Andes mountains surrounding me, and I couldn't even mentally place where I was on a map...
So where exactly is this "butthole?" Let's back up just a bit...
Spring break. A whole week off of school. Paradise, I know. My parents love travelling so they began thinking of an excellent trip for this spring break. What they came up with? Packing up and jumping into the car for a road trip south of Bogota: Huila, Colombia.
We left Bogota on Friday, April 3 and drove about four hours away to break the trip up. The next morning we continued driving and had some car troubles on the way. After a couple of hours we came upon a dirt road which we had to travel for two or three hours.
I absolutely loved this part of our journey =) My dad let me drive through the Tatacoa Desert and we were on a mission to get the car as dirty and muddy as possible. The result? An extremely bumpy car ride with Steph, Allison and my mom clutching each other in the back seat.
The scenery was absolutely amazing. Simply gorgeous. Red, orange and brown rock formations scattered the horizon. Where there weren't rocks, the Andes Mountains stood out in the background. Basically, we took two hours driving through one of the most beautiful places I have seen.
That night we stayed in a cheap "cabin" in the middle of the desert. Suggestion: If you ever get the chance to go to the Tatacoa, DO NOT STAY IN THESE CABINS. The bugs were vicious and the heat was unbearable. Thankfully, we were planning on leaving early the next morning so the night didn't seem so long.
In the morning we had the chance to go swimming in a natural swimming pool in the middle of a desert. Go figure. I've never been swimming anywhere in such a strange surrounding. Rock formations surrounded us, as we swam in a spring, in a desert. Strange, but incredible.
Then... we were off to our next destination: Tierradentro.
This place is known for the archaeological sites it has. But first, we had to drive 40 km into this remote village. I know 40 kilometers doesn't seem like much, but let's just put it like this: Driving these 40 km took us three hours. These were by far the worst roads I have EVER driven on. As a Colombian, that's saying a TON! The more we wound through the mountains on a dirt road, the more I felt like I had no idea on Earth where I was. While we were driving there were a couple minutes of silence until my dad broke the silence with hysterical laughter. We kept asking him why he was laughing, until in broken English he spat out, "We're in the butthole of the Earth."
The phrase stuck.
Finally we arrived. Tierradentro was gorgeous. It was a small town (merely 3000 residents) nestled in the heart of the Andes. The people were so open and friendly. It was simply beautiful. That night, as we were walking to dinner, the whole Stephanie-tripping-on-a-rock episode happened. It was quite entertaining =) Sunday night was an early to bed night because the next morning we'd be hiking around exploring some tombs.
Early Monday morning we visited the archaeological museums in town before heading up the mountain. Soon we were heading up on a 30 minute hike to a small plateau. Up there, the view was breath-taking. The mountains were overwhelming. This wasn't just a "Oh wow. Look at the mountain" kind of moment. It was a "Holy dang. There are LAYERS of mountains." Once we admired God's creation for some time, we began climbing into ancient Indian tombs. It was fascinating.
And once again, we were off to our next stop: San Agustin.
So we embarked on our three-hour bumpy car ride once again. And once again, it was indescribably gorgeous.
San Agustin: Archaeological capital of Colombia.
After several hours of driving we finally arrive in San Agustin. The hotel we stayed in was clean and the mattresses were heavenly compared to our last couple of nights. I slept wonderfully on Monday night.
Tuesday morning was absolutely fantastic: horseback riding AND STEPH'S BIRTHDAY!
When the guide pointed me to my hourse, I must say, I was a little disappointed. It was sort of small and didn't look like it enjoyed speed at all. Boy, was I ever wrong!
My horse (named Gasoline) was fiesty and loved competition. Bahaha. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself tremendously. We began riding through the mountains, stopping at places where they had found old indian statues. It was fascinating and beautiful at the same time. Allison and I had tons of fun racing through the dirt roads near San Agustin. After five long hourse, we finally dismounted our horses and limped back to the hotel.
Not long after, we all climbed back into the car and headed off to see El Salto de Bordones, the talles waterfall in Colombia, which happens to be the second tallest in all of South America.
On the way, Steph asked if she could have guinea pig for lunch (a typical meal in Huila). My parents thought it was fitting for the birthday girl to chose her own lunch, so they agreed. Allison was horrified. I was slightly bewildered, but slightly intrigued. Upon arrival, my dad started joking around with the restaurant owner (surprise, surprise) and asked if Steph could pick out her own lunch... choose the doomed guinea pig. The owner said of course she could. It was only natural. Soon, he brought Steph a white sack with two guinea pigs in it. Before long, the poor guinea pig was on its way to death. As if that's not enough... My dad asked if Steph could be the one to kill it. A simple nod was all it took. Steph turned and asked if I'd be willing to videotape the whole ordeal and I politely declined. Allison began to lose color in her face. My dad agreed to film the process. Allison and I went back to our seats and tried to think of happier thoughts... like marshmellows and chocolate, but to no avail: we could hear everything. The three whacks on the head of the guinea pig. The scraping off of the fur. It really was traumatizing. And then poor Allison... she had guinea pigs as pets!
Then back came Steph... and soon afterwards the guinea pig. We tried convincing Allison to take a bite and finally did. Trust me, it wasn't easy. Then of course, I had to try some as well... Not bad, actually.
Wow. Long detour... So, anyway!
The waterfall was gorgeous :)It took us another two hours of driving on dirt roads to get there. Crazy thing was, I started to think about how many other forgotten places like these were in this world? This clearly wasn't the only "butthole" that existed. How many other hidden corners of exotic beauty existed that few eyes ever had the privelage of seeing? When I think of the answers to those questions, I can only come up with one conclusion. God really did create ALL of this simply to display his glory. Crazy, huh? And half the time, we're too busy to even notice it.
The next morning (Wednesday, I believe), my mom and I headed off to visit an archeaolgical park that had hundreds of ancient statues. It was a lot of fun and it was quite fascinating :)
After that, we departed and began driving home. Thirteen hours later, I was home.
Break Our Hearts
Here's the summary/update for the missions trip I went on in November...
Fourteen teenagers. Six days. One mission: Cienaga.
I've been back in Bogota for about twenty-four hours and I've actually been dreading writing this note-- not because I don't know what to say or want to say anything, but because there is so much, and so many emotions that words cannot express correctly. So here's my best shot...
Realizing that we only had four days in Cienaga and the surrounding areas to do what we could, we thought it would be valuable to teach the church what we knew. This is what we did Friday. For about four hours we had workshops open to anyone who wanted to learn English, dance, drama, worship or the value of prayer walking. It was beautiful. I was in the drama group and we spent time going over some important as
pects of drama and acting and then we taught them the "Everything" skit. My personal favorite group was a group of kids. They were all about 10 or 12 years old. Its hard to put into words the emotions that these children evoked. For anyone who has seen the "Everything" skit, imagine a mini Jesus, a mini girl, a mini druggie... They were precious. These kids realized their need for Jesus and realized that they could have a part in reaching their city of Cienaga for Christ's sake. It was simply beautiful.
That night we had the opportunity to run an entire church service. Leon led worship with others singing, Kaleb and Cami P gave their testimonies, and we did dances and our dramas. Sara was amazing explaining one of the dramas. Basically, it was an incredible experience. However, I don't believe that we only ble
ssed the church. Perhaps we were more blessed than they even were. Their passion for God was infectious. Their understanding of how useless they are without God was convicting. Their joy in him was inspiriring. I felt privelaged to be able to be part of that church service.
We began singing songs with the kids as we waited for more to arrive. When we had run out 
of songs to sing, we pulled out the jump ropes we had been making on the way to Cienaga. The kids immediately came to us. Children came up and down the roads when they saw us jumping around in over 100 degree weather. Many were desperate for love and affection and would just run up and hug us. Others were scarred from abuse and cringed even at the touch of loving fingertips. Still others would grab one of your hands and would never let go. The scars poverty had left on their lives were obvious. Skin diseases were common and many had swollen bellies due to malnutrition. Their clothes were tattered clothing and close to none wore shoes. Countless children under the age of ten held their younger siblings-- burdened by a responsibility that 
never should have been theirs in the first place...When we had dozens and dozens of kids, we got them together and sang songs with them again. During the songs, I danced and laughed with these two little girls the entire time. Later, we were asked to sit so they jumped into my lap. There we were, the three of us, sharing our sweat as it dripped on to each other, but not caring in the slightest because of the greater sharing that was going on: love. We sang some more songs and then is when I met this one girl who I absolutely fell in love with. She was crying and I picked her up. She never told me her name but I'd just whisper in her ear, "te quiero," that's "I love you" for all you non-spanish speakers :). Every time I'd say that, she'd hug me even tighter and bury her head into my shoulder. She obviously wasn't used to hearing those words. After presenting some dramas and choreographies, we continued playing with the kids. Soon the watermelon was brought out and the kids flocked to the food, precious food. There wasn't enought to feel all three hundred of them. Then we had them make a line outside of the church from youngest to oldest. At first I wasn't sure what was going on, but I realized that we were feeding the children bread-- and the only reason why t
hey were lined up like that was because there wouldn't be enough to feed all of them. I don't know if you've ever seen people desperate for food before, but this was definitely my first encounter so close up. Older kids would push younger kids out of the way, crying could be heard with every piece of bread that got passed out. Poverty had hit even the least of these. Starving mothers took some food away from their children in order to feed themselves even a couple of bites. Most had no idea where there next "meal" would come from. When the food ran out, it became dangerous for us to stay in the area any longer because of the desperate state of the people. We had to set the children in our arms down, get them off of our laps and wave goodbye to the rest, before we ran out to the bus that was waiting for us.
Fourteen teenagers. Six days. One mission: Cienaga.
I've been back in Bogota for about twenty-four hours and I've actually been dreading writing this note-- not because I don't know what to say or want to say anything, but because there is so much, and so many emotions that words cannot express correctly. So here's my best shot...Wednesday, November 26
This is was our departure day. Excitement was in the air and concentrating on school work was impossible. Around 10:00 am the whole school watched the elementary Thanksgiving musical. This probably ranks in my top ten most precious moments. God was already speaking gratitude into us. Perhaps it was a simple preparation for what was about to come in the next several days. After the musical, our Creative Outreach team was called up front and the whole school, from the pre-kinder kids to the parents of highschoolers, prayed for us. It was powerful knowing that we were merely representatives being sent out from ECA to bless whomever we could.The next hour was a blurr. Before I knew it, we were sitting in the bus, pulling away from school, on our way to Cienaga. Finally. After nine weeks of prayer and preparation, we were on the road.
Thursday, November 27
We were on the road bright and early, ready for another 10 hours o
f driving. During the drive we listened to music, made jump ropes that we'd be handing out to kids, and just got to know each other even more. No one had any idea of what God had in store for us, and none of us could wait to find out. We finally got to Cienaga late that night. As soon as we stepped of the bus, Lilia (our Creative Outreach leader) told us to put our stuff upstairs in the room and hurry downstairs so we could go to the plaza right away. Fifteen minutes later we were walking to the central plaza of Cienaga in prayer teams with three or four people in each. She asked us to walk around the plaza, praying for it and the people in it. We cried out to God asking him to pour out his spirit that night. Beggin him to change the hearts of those who were there. After some prayer time we congregated once again and turned up the music. A crowd gathered as fourteen teenagers (many who are white) danced to "Shackles". Afterwards, we performed a skit to Lifehouse's song "Everything." Machi shared part of his testimnoy and urged people to realize that God is love. That God loves them. We then had time to sing some songs with kids and walk around praying for some people. Amazing.
f driving. During the drive we listened to music, made jump ropes that we'd be handing out to kids, and just got to know each other even more. No one had any idea of what God had in store for us, and none of us could wait to find out. We finally got to Cienaga late that night. As soon as we stepped of the bus, Lilia (our Creative Outreach leader) told us to put our stuff upstairs in the room and hurry downstairs so we could go to the plaza right away. Fifteen minutes later we were walking to the central plaza of Cienaga in prayer teams with three or four people in each. She asked us to walk around the plaza, praying for it and the people in it. We cried out to God asking him to pour out his spirit that night. Beggin him to change the hearts of those who were there. After some prayer time we congregated once again and turned up the music. A crowd gathered as fourteen teenagers (many who are white) danced to "Shackles". Afterwards, we performed a skit to Lifehouse's song "Everything." Machi shared part of his testimnoy and urged people to realize that God is love. That God loves them. We then had time to sing some songs with kids and walk around praying for some people. Amazing.Friday, November 28
Realizing that we only had four days in Cienaga and the surrounding areas to do what we could, we thought it would be valuable to teach the church what we knew. This is what we did Friday. For about four hours we had workshops open to anyone who wanted to learn English, dance, drama, worship or the value of prayer walking. It was beautiful. I was in the drama group and we spent time going over some important as
pects of drama and acting and then we taught them the "Everything" skit. My personal favorite group was a group of kids. They were all about 10 or 12 years old. Its hard to put into words the emotions that these children evoked. For anyone who has seen the "Everything" skit, imagine a mini Jesus, a mini girl, a mini druggie... They were precious. These kids realized their need for Jesus and realized that they could have a part in reaching their city of Cienaga for Christ's sake. It was simply beautiful.Once the workshops were done we headed to the beach. Bahaha. I loved watching Machi see the beach for the first time. God's glory is displayed through his creation, and we got to witness it :)
That night we had the opportunity to run an entire church service. Leon led worship with others singing, Kaleb and Cami P gave their testimonies, and we did dances and our dramas. Sara was amazing explaining one of the dramas. Basically, it was an incredible experience. However, I don't believe that we only ble
ssed the church. Perhaps we were more blessed than they even were. Their passion for God was infectious. Their understanding of how useless they are without God was convicting. Their joy in him was inspiriring. I felt privelaged to be able to be part of that church service.Saturday, November 29
"Lord, I pray that You would break our hearts for what breaks Yours..."
And that's exactly what He did.
I'm not too sure what I was expecting God to do after I prayed that prayer, but I left the Poblado with a broken heart.This day was the day I had been waiting for the entire trip.
During breakfast, there was a prayer meeting going on for girls between eight and twelve years old. Lilia told us to go look at them for a second. We were all a little bit curious because you don't usually get asked to watch someone pray. These girls were literally on their faces, crying out to God. Wow.
Lilia then came up to us and said, "Are you ready to have your hearts broken?" She was only too right...We left the main part of Cienaga in bicycle taxis and rode for about 30 mins. The town literally morphed infront of our eyes. It became more and more poor. When I got out of the bike taxi and walked into the neighborhood (the Poblado) I honestly could not breathe for a couple of seconds. I knew that the houses would be made out of plastic and newspapers, but I wasn't expecting it to hit me so hard. Wooden posts supported black plastic bags and newspapers were taped to the inside to serve as insulation. The dirt road was mostly mud from the recent flooding. We walked "into" the Poblado's church-- a wooden structure with no walls and a tin roof.
We began singing songs with the kids as we waited for more to arrive. When we had run out 
of songs to sing, we pulled out the jump ropes we had been making on the way to Cienaga. The kids immediately came to us. Children came up and down the roads when they saw us jumping around in over 100 degree weather. Many were desperate for love and affection and would just run up and hug us. Others were scarred from abuse and cringed even at the touch of loving fingertips. Still others would grab one of your hands and would never let go. The scars poverty had left on their lives were obvious. Skin diseases were common and many had swollen bellies due to malnutrition. Their clothes were tattered clothing and close to none wore shoes. Countless children under the age of ten held their younger siblings-- burdened by a responsibility that 
never should have been theirs in the first place...When we had dozens and dozens of kids, we got them together and sang songs with them again. During the songs, I danced and laughed with these two little girls the entire time. Later, we were asked to sit so they jumped into my lap. There we were, the three of us, sharing our sweat as it dripped on to each other, but not caring in the slightest because of the greater sharing that was going on: love. We sang some more songs and then is when I met this one girl who I absolutely fell in love with. She was crying and I picked her up. She never told me her name but I'd just whisper in her ear, "te quiero," that's "I love you" for all you non-spanish speakers :). Every time I'd say that, she'd hug me even tighter and bury her head into my shoulder. She obviously wasn't used to hearing those words. After presenting some dramas and choreographies, we continued playing with the kids. Soon the watermelon was brought out and the kids flocked to the food, precious food. There wasn't enought to feel all three hundred of them. Then we had them make a line outside of the church from youngest to oldest. At first I wasn't sure what was going on, but I realized that we were feeding the children bread-- and the only reason why t
hey were lined up like that was because there wouldn't be enough to feed all of them. I don't know if you've ever seen people desperate for food before, but this was definitely my first encounter so close up. Older kids would push younger kids out of the way, crying could be heard with every piece of bread that got passed out. Poverty had hit even the least of these. Starving mothers took some food away from their children in order to feed themselves even a couple of bites. Most had no idea where there next "meal" would come from. When the food ran out, it became dangerous for us to stay in the area any longer because of the desperate state of the people. We had to set the children in our arms down, get them off of our laps and wave goodbye to the rest, before we ran out to the bus that was waiting for us.On the bus ride back to the church, we rode in melancholic silence. Why were we blessed beyond anything they could ever imagine? I never had to wonder where my next meal would come from. Why were their bellies swollen from malnutrition? Why are North Americans constantly diagnosed with diseases caused by an excess of food? Why would I, as a child, buy shoes whenever I grew out of them? Why did these kids have to stop wearing shoes once they were so worn out that they were no longer wearable? Why did I have the luxury of shampoo, soap and clean water when these were rarely blessed with even clean drinking water?I never did anything to deserve my blessings. They never did anything to deserve this life they were born into.
We got out of the bus and Lilia gave us the afternoon off to process what we had seen that morning. I had to journal and try to understand. Honestly, I still don't understand. I'm not sure if I'll ever understand why these people are so broken and lost to the eyes of the world. But I do know that they aren't lost in the eyes of God. I may never understand why I've been blessed in these ridiculous ways, but I do know that I have the potential to bless others. I can let my blessings over flow. I can do my part to try and ease the pain in this world. I can share God's love with them, knowing that they are precious in his eyes.
As you can guess, I could go on forever and ever trying to put what I saw and what I felt into words. And I'd fall short every time. I can't express the pain, the hunger, the desperation I saw in the eyes of every child who hugged me. So because I'd never finish, I'll try to keep going...
That night we went to a concert that was held in a coloseum. A christian singer said we could present one of our dramas before he sang. We presented our skit to the Underoath song "Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape." It was powerful, but that isn't what most impacted me. There were about two hours of worship-- typical coastal music: vallenatos. People were dancing unto the Lord with joy that overflowed out of their hearts into their hands and feet. It was infectious. People on the coast were so in touch with this all-powerful God who could complete them in their weakest state. God's grace really was sufficient for them. His power really was made perfect in their weaknesses. Their passion and joy was so evident in their faces, in their energetic dancing and their desperate raised hands.
Sunday, November 30
Leaving Cienaga ripped my heart apart. We left early Sunday morning and headed toward a church in Santa Marta, another coastal city. When we got there Lilia asked us to pray and think about giving our testimonies. Leon, Cami B and Allison were willing to share. During the church service, worship was energetic once again :) My personal favorite was the pianist. His joy for God flowed out into this piano playing moments. He was an extremely talented musician, and it was obvious he was playing unto the Lord, only to the Lord. It was amazing :)We did our dramas and some shared testimonies. It was powerful. Afterwards we were invited to stay for lunch, so we did :) One lady came up to me after I had just finished eating and asked if I would pray for her. We went outside and she told me what was going on in her life. I prayed for her and when I opened my eyes, another woman was standing there. Her name was Marta and she wanted me to pray for her as well. As I listened to her, I realized that she had just unleashed a series of emotions that she had been damming up inside. The pain that had been bottled up inside gushed out and I just stood there, completely astounded by what she had been through. I wasn't sure how to pray for her, but I just did. I asked God to pick up each piece of her broken heart and put it together, piece by piece. It hit me how hard that prayer had impacted her. Why don't we pray for one another day by day? Why do we wait for missions trips and service days to pray for those who are burdened? Prayer is so powerful yet we seem to wait to use it as a last option. We turn to prayer when there's nothing else to turn to, but this mentality is so backwards. Prayer should be our first and foremost response. After lunch we went to the beach and spent some time with the youth group from that church. It was nice, having a chance to relax and let God's majesty and glory refresh us.
Leaving Cienaga ripped my heart apart. We left early Sunday morning and headed toward a church in Santa Marta, another coastal city. When we got there Lilia asked us to pray and think about giving our testimonies. Leon, Cami B and Allison were willing to share. During the church service, worship was energetic once again :) My personal favorite was the pianist. His joy for God flowed out into this piano playing moments. He was an extremely talented musician, and it was obvious he was playing unto the Lord, only to the Lord. It was amazing :)We did our dramas and some shared testimonies. It was powerful. Afterwards we were invited to stay for lunch, so we did :) One lady came up to me after I had just finished eating and asked if I would pray for her. We went outside and she told me what was going on in her life. I prayed for her and when I opened my eyes, another woman was standing there. Her name was Marta and she wanted me to pray for her as well. As I listened to her, I realized that she had just unleashed a series of emotions that she had been damming up inside. The pain that had been bottled up inside gushed out and I just stood there, completely astounded by what she had been through. I wasn't sure how to pray for her, but I just did. I asked God to pick up each piece of her broken heart and put it together, piece by piece. It hit me how hard that prayer had impacted her. Why don't we pray for one another day by day? Why do we wait for missions trips and service days to pray for those who are burdened? Prayer is so powerful yet we seem to wait to use it as a last option. We turn to prayer when there's nothing else to turn to, but this mentality is so backwards. Prayer should be our first and foremost response. After lunch we went to the beach and spent some time with the youth group from that church. It was nice, having a chance to relax and let God's majesty and glory refresh us.
Around 5:00 we got back into the bus and prepared for a long busride home-- only we didn't know exactly how long. We drove all night and got home Monday night around 7:30, 26 hours later.
Thank you so much for your prayers and support. We wouldn't have been able to go on this trip without your help.
I love you all :)
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