Fruitful

A week ago we were saying goodbye to the Tikuna village of Guanabara 3. A week ago we packed up our bags and loaded up the boat and headed back to Colombia. A week ago, with tears in our eyes, we prayed with the four missionaries who have sacrificed much to be there.

 Today, as I sit on my comfortable bed in Canada and find myself bundled up because, yes, it is still cold here, I find it hard to believe that a week ago I was in the Brazilian jungle. The two worlds could not be any more different.

Yesterday morning I was asked what some "highlights" of the trip were. How to explain that this was one of the most difficult trips I have personally ever been on? How to describe the feeling of helplessness that surfaced every time I tried explaining the need to boil water, and have the villagers smile and nod? How could I capture the incredibly deflating and dis-empowering feelings I experienced when huge blocks of time were wasted and I sat around doing nothing? How do I share the strong doubts that ravaged my mind as to why I was even on the trip to begin with?

It was a difficult trip. I don't know if the trip itself was the issue, or if I've become more critical of short-term missions over the last many years. I struggled with the size of the group (25 people!) and with the activities planned for the day, and with miscommunications, cross-cultural misunderstandings, and feelings of frustration and uselessness.

But even so, I shared the highlights.

I also experienced God in powerful ways. I was incredibly amazed by the missionaries we got to know; their faith in God and radical obedience was humbling and so convicting. I was completely in awe of the way God moved supporters to give generously. Verses in the Bible came to life in front of me and took on human flesh as I saw people living in complete obedience to the Lord. We were able to witness physical lives saved and see how the medical brigade build bridges for the missionaries already serving there.

And so when people ask, "How was your trip?" I'm able to confidently answer:

"It was fruitful."

PS- My friend Lauren wrote a beautiful post about the trip. I encourage you to read her thoughts and enjoy the pictures on her blog.

An Enormous Thank You!

At the beginning of March I was really humbled and was learning some big lessons about trusting God when it comes to fundraising.

Now, I can look back and really say that I have been floored... utterly astounded. For two and a half months we really struggled to see how God would provide for our trip to the Amazon. We had sent out prayer letters and money barely trickled in. However, in the two weeks leading up to the trip, supporters sprung up and gave quite faithfully and generously.

The day before our trip, I was able to get final numbers from RCE and my mind was blown. You guys gave above and beyond what we could have ever expected.

From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you for your generosity! We are safely back in Bogota after a week in the Brazilian jungle. We will be sure to post some thoughts regarding the trip.

Thank you!

Inconvenient Service

A couple of weeks ago I was in Chicago for an Urban Project with InterVarsity. We spent three days serving with local ministries there and I had the privilege of partnering with Grace and Peace, a Christian church in Hermosa, Chicago. It is located in a primarily latino neighbourhood and truly seeks to meet the needs of its community.

For three days, we served and helped them run their after school program for children in the Chicago Public School system. I loved speaking Spanish with the children and encouraging them to finish their homework.

One day, we also helped the church run their food pantry. We helped them set up and brought clothing out for the clothing closet as well. As we set up, I struck up conversation with several of the volunteers. I learned that they traveled to Hindsdale, a city over 30 minutes away to pick up donated food from a grocery store there. I asked why they didn't turn to grocery stores closer by, but they explained that all the closer grocery stores were already donating their food to other food pantries in the area.

And so, this church decided that a food pantry was a necessary service for those in their community and committed to make the drive on a weekly basis in order to serve their community better. I was so impressed. This attitude of service reminded me that serving others is rarely convenient. If we wait to serve others when it fits into our schedule, when it doesn't take too much time, when I can squeeze it in, then we will serve others rarely.

This church was a beautiful example of inconvenient service. They opened up their building five days a week to dozens of children. They had to schedule worship practices and weekly meetings around this after school program. They drove to Hindsale to pick up groceries. They made hospital visits to church members and refused to stay only 15 minutes. This church practiced inconvenient service every day of the week.

I was humbled and blessed to serve alongside them.

Growing up, race wasn't talked about very often. We didn't think of people as black, white or brown as much as we did American, Colombian or Korean. The idea of being a minority was new to me until I got to university.

I stood out in Colombia, that's for sure. My light colored hair and my green eyes were definitely rare. I was quite a bit taller than most women and my pale skin didn't help me blend in with the beautiful brown skin tones. I was used to being in a room where I looked different than the people around me. But I didn't feel like a "minority."

Then, at the University of Illinois, I self-identified as Latina, but my Caucasian features never set me apart as one. If not for my self-identification, I'd easily pass for a white girl from the Chicago suburbs. And so, my "minority status" really didn't have much of an impact on my daily life.

But last week I spent the week at the Chicago Urban Project (CUP). I was a volunteer staff leader and joined dozens of university students on the west side of Chicago. Including staff and students, there were five of us who were ethnically white. There were three black individuals, eight latinos and the rest of the individuals were Asian or Asian American. Certainly, it was a feeling of displacement.

I felt like a minority.

Did people make comments about me being white? No.
Did I ever feel insulted because I was white? No.
Was I discriminated against? Absolutely not.

And yet, the whole time, I was so aware of my skin color.

I was able to identify with friends who have shared with me that they are the only brown or black person in a certain environment. I'd instantly jump into a protective mode asking if they felt discriminated against, or excluded or anything. The answer was generally "no," but it didn't stop them from being extremely aware of their own skin color.

I began wondering whether I would become less aware the longer I stayed in that environment, or would I only be less aware in white-majority environments? Could this be something I got used to? Would it wear off? Did I want it to ever go away? Could I even live in a majority-white environment and be aware of my white skin or would I sink back into a complacent hole of normality?

And while I was hyper-aware of my skin color and of those around me, I was also sensitive to the strong love and acceptance in the room. Our differences didn't separate, didn't divide; there was a breakthrough from tolerance into love. Watching that happen confirmed the beautiful them of the week: "God's Good News for our Broken World." My awareness of race and ethnicity that week certainly opened my eyes to a lot of the brokenness in our world, but I was able to personally experience some of God's news... and that was great news!