The morning of day 4 broke the night's typical sweaty but surprisingly restful sleep with the promise of another exercise in discomfort. This time we were going to a nascent Wesleyan church to partner with them in some door to door evangelism. Now, the whole concept of door to door is kinda muddy for me. I do think it can be done right, but more times than naught, I feel a message that, in it's very essence, carries absolute love and the power to change lives, quickly becomes a sterile sales pitch; a stand-and-deliver predicated on obligation rather than love, and void of any concern for the person on the other end. There is a difference between being talked to and being talked at.
Essentially, all the power and danger in these types of interactions lies within the intent. Are you speaking because you need to tell this person about Jesus? Or, are you speaking because this person needs to hear about Jesus? Trust me, I struggled with the former for the longest time and it left me with an overwhelming sense of obligation that was impossible to satisfy; an obligation that I often attributed God's opinion of me to. Very dangerous stuff.
It wasn't until God changed the operative verb in how I interacted with people that I saw the subject of my sentences change from "me" to "them." That shift in focus allowed me to begin to understand, at some depth, 1 Corinthians 13:3: "If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." (NIV)
The message of the Gospel that we hold to as the lifeblood to all that we do HAS to be proclaimed in love, because that is the medium in which it first was delivered to us (mankind). If we present the Gospel without the love that inseparably saturates it's entirety, we deceive those who hear it into interacting with a bastardization of the Message. We commit a great sin.
Okay, soapbox is going back in the closet. So, where were we? Door to door, yes! I will say, that my team members do a very good job at this "with love" thing. So, I had high hopes for this instance of D2D. That still didn't mean I wasn't nervous as crap.
So, after touring the church/person's house that peculiarly had two kitchens, and after sipping on the coffee equivalent of Coca-Cola, with some bonus carcinogens provided by the plastic dixie cup it was in, we were off. Right away, things were proving difficult. Either almost the entire neighborhood was out enjoying the beautiful countryside (which, I mean, they should) or many of the residents had already acquired an admittedly justified leeriness toward a bunch of people toting Bibles and banging on doors.
After a little while, we did manage to get some conversations going. A sweet old lady invited us into her home and listened to what we had to say. Though she seemed a bit on autopilot when it came to responding, I believe she did, at some level, absorb what Jim was saying. If anything, we were able to share the truth of Christ's death and resurrection as being the sole avenue by which we come to reconciliation with the Father to a culture steeped in a "by works" mentality.
I was able to talk with some older men outside of a motorcycle repair shop while Jim talked to one of the mechanics. Again, conversation felt awkwardly contrived. Often, their responses either seemed out of left field or were so generic that I was left with very little in which to gauge who they were as people. Needless to say, I was rather discouraged by the whole situation and, really the entire morning for the most part.
Once everyone regrouped, we decided to invade the local food shack for lunch. Upon presumably exhausting their entire supply of plastic tables and chairs that weren't currently inhabited by locals, we were soon quarantined to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Once the inevitable chaos of ordering subsided, I was soon handed a plate of sliced plantain, rice, beans and endearingly tough churrasco. Considering I didn't even technically order anything, and the fact that even if I did, I probably would have received the same thing regardless, I happily dug in. Once, everyone was finished, and after receiving the rather vindicating feeling of observing a man plop his full sized dog perpendicularly across the gas tank of his motorcycle and drive off, we soon carouselled into our taxi's and returned to base.
While I was lounging on my favorite multi-seater ottoman in the hotel lobby, I soon caught wind of something going down outside. Turns out, some of the Evokers had met a band of traveling gypsy-kids (young adults) the night before and actually led the girl that sang with them to Christ, and now, the same band, minus the girl (I think her name was Camilla,) was outside having an impromptu jam session. We decided to go join in.
The band, affectionately and coincidentally comprised of Daniel, Samuel, Manuel, and… Carlos, included a large, cow skin tom drum, a nylon string guitar, a traditional, regional woodwind that I forget the name of, and a freestyle rapper. One of the girls in our group, Alexsa, is an amazing flautist herself and was soon running to grab her bamboo flute. In no time, we were all sitting in the middle of foot traffic just jammin' out and drawing attention. Though I've had many moments of surreality on the trip already, this one was special. It was like I got the peanut butter of my deeply cherished high school hangout days in the chocolate of my crazy impactful Colombia adventure.
Later that afternoon, we traveled to Cecilia, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the area. There, after being dropped off on the wrong side of the neighborhood and parading our not-so-subtle caravan of American-ness over to the correct thatched community gazebo, we were soon knee deep in local children spanning the age gamut of a typical public educational system.
While many of the team members went right into talking to different pockets of the kids, I comfortably sat behind my camera and documented. Once everyone had filed in, and after a short monologue from the community representative explaining the kid's involvement in various community projects, Scott and Jennifer took the stage.
They preceded to explain to the kids the message of hope and transformation that is the Gospel. Some ways through, Scott used an analogy that I really think speaks to the heart of a very popular, worldwide mindset. The mindset of knowing of Jesus is enough. Scott equated it to jumping out of an airplane with a parachute on. Simply knowing you have the parachute on is only good enough for peace of mind as you continue to fall and eventually hit the ground. It isn't until you engage the parachute that it become pertinent, life-saving in fact. The difference between knowing of Jesus, and having a relationship with Him is the same as knowing you have a parachute and actually using it. At the end, Scott led those who wanted to engage that relationship in prayer.
After that, we did the usual breakout sesh. As if on cue, Karina grabs me and says, "Lets go talk to them!" The "them" she was referring to was a group of about ten high school boys who were essentially the cultural polar opposite of high school Michael… and current, young professional Michael for that matter. They saw my hippie-long, blondish surfer hair and affinity for post rock, ambient progressive, with barely-on snap-backs and naturally occurring swagger, and raised me a rat tail or two.
Sensing a theme in the trip by now, I just said, "Eh, why not?"
After silently, but mutually, acknowledging the obvious cultural dichotomy, the kids and I actually seemed to ease into conversation pretty easily. I started by making rounds with some basic questions: What's your name? How old are you? All of them were within the classic high school age range. When it came to names, nothing too out of the ordinary. Though when it came to the kid on my left, he said his name was Michael as well, causing a tremor of snickers throughout the group. I had my suspicions, but I went with it.
Then I asked them what they thought of the message they had just heard. I received the typical half-hearted it-was-good nods.
"So, then, do you believe it?" I inquired. Again, more nods.
I continued, "Okay, so you believe it? Let me ask you something then. You die. Where do you think you'll go? Heaven or Hell?"
Some said they didn't know, while many said very flatly, Hell. Though surprised does not accurately describe my reaction to their answers, I was taken aback by how these kids could answer that question with such a sense of acceptance. I challenged them. If they said they believed the Message they had just heard, why then would some of them still believe Hell was their fate?
"I just think I've done too much wrong…" Michael responded, as he stared down at the floor.
I grabbed his shoulder, and though I was speaking to the whole group, I looked a Michael as I spoke. "Trust me, I understand that thought process. I used to feel the same way. I felt like I was some how un-savable. For twenty years, I was trying to earn God's love. Earn his acceptance. It left me depressed and almost sent me to a mental institution." Again, eyes locked on this kid. "Please, believe me. I'm implore you. God loves you right where you stand. There is nothing you have done nor could ever do that would somehow put you outside of His reach. If you truly come to believe that, and accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and choose to walk with Him for the rest of your life, I have no doubt in my mind I will see you in Heaven."
As I spoke to this kid, his deep, dark eyes would lock with mine as he listened. I saw something in those eyes that I still can't fully describe using any type of conventional language. This kid was getting it. He was listening, in the deepest sense of the word. I can't put my finger on what I saw, but God was knocking on Michael's heart. I know it.
I turned to the group. "Let me explain it this way. Jesus is God, correct? He has all the cosmos at His command. He can do anything he wants. He could have come down from that Cross at any time. There was no reason for Him to remain up there in agony…except He was missing something. The God of the Universe was missing something. What was He missing? You." I put my hand on Michael's shoulder again, "You."
I asked them again if they understood. "Yes." They replied.
I encouraged them. "Press into this. God is real. And He will show you things you never could even dream of. I'm proof of that. I never thought I would be in Armenia, Colombia speaking to a group of teenagers, but here I am."
I asked them all what they wanted to do when they grew up. After unanimously responding with, "professional fútbol player," a good majority of them revealed that they would like to work for the Colombian equivalent of the FBI. Something, I think, that speaks to the youth's dissatisfaction with the current injustices they see played out in the government and in their everyday lives.
I then asked if they had any questions for me. After some hesitation and chuckling, Karina relayed to me that they wanted to know if I had a wife. Nope, I chuckled. What about a fiancé? Nah. Girlfriend? Nada. Finally, I sighed. "Karina, just let them know that I'm bad with the ladies."
As we were wrapping up, I asked them to join me in prayer. I inquired about anything they'd like me to pray for, specifically. One's grandmother had Alzheimer's, another's grandmother had cancer, another asked me to pray for his family. Then, Michael spoke up with his request. "I would like to do something with my life," he stated. So, we huddled and I prayed for all of them and lifted up each specific request to the Lord.
Once we disbanded, I asked Karina to let Michael know I'd like to speak with him away from the group for a second. I ran and grabbed my Spanish/English Bible and met up with them. I locked in on his eyes again. "I see something in you. You get this. The Lord is working in you, I can see it. Press in to this. You said you wanted to do something with your life. This is your chance. God will use you do great things, things you can't even begin to imagine. Take this seriously and God will show up. Believe me. Please. Believe me."
"Do you have a Bible?" I asked.
"No."
I put the Bible in his hand. "Here, this is yours. Read it, and I promise you God will show you things."
I asked him if he knew the Gospel story and he said, "not really." I showed him the Four Gospels and explained to him a little bit about how they are laid out. I also pointed him to Romans and explained its purpose. I then asked for his Facebook information in case he had any questions or wanted to continue the conversation. He put it in my phone.
I then noticed he listed his first name a being Krystian. Playing into my suspicions, I confronted him about it. He said that everyone calls him Michael. Still with eyebrow raised, I dropped the interrogation. Later on I learned that he had told Lirio that his name was David. Very guarded kid, but I know God is working His way in.
We were then asked to collect back up front in order to be presented with some super fragrant orange candles (mine was the shape of a guitar!) that managed to provide a pretty convenient nostalgic link to Colombia upon my return. Thanks, olfactory system!
By this time, Scott and the gang decided to reveal that they had gifts for all the kids. To the guys, a bunch of soccer balls. To the girls, makeup of all sorts. And to the kids, bags and bags of candy. It was like casting seed to pigeons trying to allocate the lollypops to the sea of grabbing hands. One of those hands ended up being mine and was quickly appeased with a maracuyá (passion fruit) lollypop, complete with seeds and gum inside!
After a few photo-ops with the kids and staff, we made our way to the cabs. As a few of us exited the gazebo, we were met by a handful of children who were asking for our autographs. This tickled me to no end. I obliged, chuckling at the fact that I think they were having us sign the Gospel pamphlets we handed out earlier. We said our goodbyes, drew the per usual stares of the surround neighbors and headed back to the hotel.
Well, this seems like a good place to realize that this post will have to be a two-parter. There is actually quite a bit more left of Day 4, but I will make it more digestible by breaking it up into two parts. You're welcome :P.
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