Life, Love, and Why

Monday, July 19, 2010

So Real

After the hike to Bato

We hiked into Bato in the heat of the day, took a look around, and knew one thing immediately. They were poor. Total, maybe 200 people. So, it was the smallest barangay we'd been to. They put us up in a vacant house that was literally falling apart on account of termites. Mike, Mark, and Joal left soon after we arrived to go find some fuel and food. The rest us meandered around, played with the kids, and rested.

Later in the afternoon, Cheryl and I spoke with the First Councilor about a Bible study. He said we could use the school house at 6:00 p.m., and we agreed. Well, 6:00 p.m. rolled around, the sun started to set, and there was no one at the school house. About 6:15, in perfect Filippino fashion, six adults started walking towards the us. Unfortunately, it was getting dark very quickly, and there was no electricity. So, we relocated to the basketball court where there was still a little sunlight. A few men carried out benches and set them around in a square. Our team sat down, and people kept coming. By the time we were ready to start there were about 30 adults and a 20 kids gathered around us.

As I started to the share the Gospel, the sun set and it became completely dark. I thought it was pretty sweet that the people were willing to sit in the dark and listen. Then a younger man asked me to stop so he could go get some light. A few minutes later he came back with three kersene lamps made out of Coke and vodka bottles. After the lamps had been perfectly arranged on the cracked asphalt, I looked around. The brown faces had a golden glow from the lamps, as they waited patiently for me to start.

I opened my mouth and some words came out. Now, it's all a blur. But I do remember pausing at one point, paralyzed by the scene before me. "This is how they did back in Paul's day, huh?," I thought to myself. After Wesley had translated the last of the my words, we asked if they had any question. The barangay Captain spoke up first and asked us how could they receive Jesus Christ's salvation. Definitely was one of those jaw-dropping moments, when you almost don't believe what's happening is real.

The thing is…that was real. All of those Waray people really prayed to receive and follow Christ. Now, certainly, there needs to be a follow-up, baptism, and discipleship. Lord-willing, another missionary can come behind us and do those things. Nevertheless, the Word of God really worked in hearts that night. And those three kersene lamps put out just enough light to illuminate the glorious riches of the greatest mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart."

-Hebrews 4:12

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

A Cool Oven

Our team spent three days on an island not far from the mouth of the Oras River. The circumference of the island Tubaboo is no more than five miles, but in the barangay, Santa Monica, there is well over 1,000 Waray people. Upon our arrival, we had no former connections or a place to stay. So, first Mike and Joal went to speak with the Barangay Captain about the details of our visit. While they were gone, I waited with our gear and the team unloaded the boat.

Those twenty minutes were some of the most interesting minutes of my life. I seriously felt like an animal in a zoo. It would be too much to actually describe the type of people that greeted me, but let's just say, I was just as shocked to see them, as they were to see me. Well finally, Mike and Joal returned to inform us that we would be staying with the Captain and her family. In the Captain's house we were given a small room off of the kitchen. It was a tight space for nine people, but hey, you take what you can get here.

In Gap Ang, our first barangay, we stayed in an even smaller space, so we knew it was doable. It was actually in Gap Ang that our translator, Joal, came up with a phrase we all love to use. Early one afternoon, in the heat of the day, Joal described the barangay hall we were staying in as a cool oven. Definition? A "cool oven" is essentially a room that is has been poorly designed to keep in every bit of heat. Our team has had the pleasure of staying in many a cool oven.

However, none can compare with the cool oven on this island. The first night there I laid down on my thermarest, so happy to finally sleep. But to my dismay, I immediately realized that I was in a cool oven. What a special night that was… I recited 1 Peter 1: 6,7 over and over. When 5:00 a.m. finally came, I was the first one up, and the first one to take a cold bucket bath.

Night number two…it's pathetic, but I was dreading it all day. I laid down, exhausted, and sighed as I began to pour sweat. (At times like this, it's helpful to think about the Apostle Paul or some other famous missionary martyr.) It was 8:30 p.m. and the Lord was gracious enough to let me sleep for an hour or so. But about 10:00 p.m. I was woke up with a brilliant headache.

I fumbled around for a flashlight then reached to find some Advil. That's when I saw Mark sitting across from me, fanning himself, with a 20 peso straw fan that's in the shape of a heart. You see, Sweet Mark had gone swimming that morning and scored some impressive sunburn on his back. I chuckled because it wasn't the first time I had woken in up a cool oven to Mark with his fan. Just a few minutes later, Megan asked, "Are you guys sweating to the point of dehydration, or is it just me?" (Cool oven 101- A cool oven is most bearable when shared with others.)

So, it's about 10:00 p.m. and Mark, Megan, and myself are all awake. The three of us baked for about an hour. At 11:00 p.m. a dog started to bark. A few seconds later, the dog was right outside our window. I was just about to say something when Joelie blurted out, "This is ridiculous. That dog might as well be in here with us!" So, then Joelie joined our party. The four of us carried on because when you're that tired and overheated anything and everything is hysterical.

Unfortunately, the sound of our laughter woke up our leader, Mike, who lovingly told us to quiet down. And even though he was dead serious, our laughter only grew louder. It felt like I was a kid sitting in church, desperately trying not to laugh, but failing miserably. When we had all shut up for a moment, Daniel let out a little chuckle, which he could not remember at all the next morning. The clock (or $10 Timex) struck midnight and everyone laid there…wide awake, hot as ever. Despite the inevitable cool oven misery, I think I finally feel asleep with a smile on my face.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

O Captain, my Captain!

Ok, so I've been writing a lot of really spiritual sounding stories for this blog, but I feel like I need to lighten things up. And I would like to preface this story by saying our team really needs a good laugh now and then. Therefore, I believe is simply a testimony to God's goodness, and His really impressive sense of humor.

Before we went to our last barangay our leader, Mike, and translator, Joal, hiked from Ji Contol to Osmena (there's a tilde over the "n" in Osmena) to talk with the barangay Captain. When the guys arrived in Osmena the Captain told them that our team couldn't come because they had no where for us to stay. So, the next day a few others from our team walked to Osmena to check things out. Next to the barangay hall we saw there was a "health center" that looked all but abandoned. And we figured we should go ask the Captain if he would let us stay in the health center, even though he had already turned down Mike and Joal. To our surprise, the Captain agreed to let us come!

Now, fast forward with me. It's our next to last night in Osmena. We've just finished dinner. Cup noodles and rice, baby. The whole team is sitting inside the health center reading a short biography on Amy Carmichael. Then all of the sudden, there was a "knock, knock" on the door. Low and behold, it was the Captain and his first counselor! Now, don't be deceived by the titles "Captain" and "First Counselor." I suppose they are official in the context of their tiny barangay, but are probably not what you're imagining. At around 7:30 p.m. these gentlemen strolled up wearing faded tank tops, unbuttoned shorts, and flip flop (slippers). The lovely first counselor also had a cigarette in his hand that he was ready to light up at any moment.

When we saw them standing at the door we all quickly stood up to show the proper respect. Cheryl frantically moved our underwear that was hanging on the close-line in the middle of our room. Someone else grabbed our one and only chair and placed it in front of the Captain. Well, he graciously accepted and sat down in the chair. Next, there was the awkward silence, which is really not that awkward here in the Philippines. Then the Captain, who was a very soft-spoken man, started to speak. Our translator Joal talked with him for a few minutes. While they chatted, Wesley told everyone else what was going on. The Captain was apologizing for the way he acted the first time Mike and Joal had come to Osmena and asked for permission to visit.

As the Captain and Joal talked, we all sat there nodding our heads and smiling like we understood was what being said. I guess there was a lull in conversation, so the Captain shifted around in his chair a bit. Unfortunately, the chair was already broken and it collapsed to the ground. Yes, the Captain fell completely out of the chair and onto the dirty concrete. In the process of his fall, one of the chair legs busted open our almost empty rice pot, which made an incredibly loud noise. Without really thinking, I jumped up to help the Captain. I realized that he had a difficult time standing up, but I figured he was just a bit shaken from the fall. Once we got him back into his chair the First Counselor blurted out something about a "drink."

"Drink" as in alcohol. And it all started to make sense. The Captain was drunk. After another minute of the not awkward silence, the First Counselor patted the Captain on the back and said something like, "Let's go, Cap!" So, we all stood up again and said, "Maupay nga gab-i (Good Night)." As soon as they were out the door, our whole team laughed hysterically for a long time! We tried to continue reading the Amy Carmichael bio, but could only make a sentence or two before someone started laughing again. Good times. Thanks, Lord.