dia de los inocentes

that day is kind of like april fool's day, except it happened el 6 de enero en ecuador. day of the fools. and the way of the fools leads to death, no? one of the first things that whipped my senses to attention as we drove through guayaquil that morning were the ubiquitous cemeteries. whitewashed graves, literally. some garlanded with flowers, some still awaiting occupants... products of the 24-hour-burial rule necessitated by the tropical climate; from a culture of tight-knit families and strong loyalties; and from a 92% Catholic population. where the majority of those can claim also, "Oh, but i'm non-practicing." "Oh, and I'm agnostic." "Oh, and I'm an atheist." where, 20 years ago, someone might have been threatened with stoning or other forms of violent execution or severe punishment and cutting-off from the family for converting from Catholicism to evangelical Christianity, from distant ritual to direct relationship with Christ. i know that many Catholics do have such a relationship, and many protestants have pushed their faith into the realm of meaningless ritual, but the former perceptions hold true for the majority in ecuador, and tend to hinder the increase of true followers of Christ. yet now, with priests in shorter supply, the power of the church dwindling, broken families (whether from emigration, drugs, abuse, adultery, or other destructive lifestyles) come seeking solutions and the Catholic church has not responded in a compelling way, so they become open to other answers, other sources of hope and healing. so that is the hope of the missionaries in Ecuador, that people would wake up from their spiritual sleep, spiritual deadness, and experience a living relationship with Christ and with a community that commits to following him, to giving up their lives for him and for each other.

that day about 20 innocent lives were lost as two busetas crashed into each other on the highway between guayaquil and cuenca and caused a long line-up of largely clueless and curious cars, passengers leaving the parked vehicles and wandering in search of an accurate story, an amusing story, any story as to why we were waiting. shocked and saddened when we discovered the real reason for the holdup, we bowed our heads together inside our intact bus, and though i really wanted it to be a sweet, serious time of seeking God's face and wrestling with the situation together, when i was asked to lead i probably settled into a little pocket of pride, and subsequently i kind of martyred the praying-out-loud thing with a bunch of unoriginal word vomit which left me still shocked and confused about how to feel and respond. yes, i am saying that i failed, that i let people down, that maybe i forgot who i was praying to in the concern over what i was saying. i almost felt like a whitewashed grave, left thirsty after those brief, dry-and-gray-as-cement statements and requests lifted like dead-weight bricks to God that he 'be with us and with the people'. but hopefully that could have done for others what it did for me, which was send me immediately into more silent, more sincere prayer, seeking what words could better express the truth and needs of our situation. and God was faithful to comfort me in that respect, to speak to me through his Word and through others on the team as well as the still small voice telling me to write down these words while on the bus once the road was cleared and we started climbing towards cuenca:

"beautiful Lord Jesus,
THANK you for bringing us safely here to Cuenca, this place we've been thinking, praying, dreaming about for so long. Thank you for your provision even in the face of unexpected obstacles, for the blessing of waiting, of knowing you have protected us. We remember the accident and the people involved--though we didn't know them, they were your children, too, and we will not easily forget the reason for the change in plans today. We're coming here to be a part of the lives of new families, with so many unknowns, but we trust you, and we praise you that there are this many people here who love you and serve you every day. help us to really enter into life here, with humility and gratitude and an ability to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. God, you are doing a new thing in each of our lives today! You just keep taking my breath away! Thank you for 'bringing us home' in a different way than we ever could have imagined--we ask you to go before us and to be with us as we go out to love and serve you and to learn from your people here. Amen. love, Annaranjada"

that day was also what the church in some places celebrates as Epiphany, when traditionally the three wise men arrived to visit Jesus. epiphany can also mean a profound realization or change of perspective. and that is what happened to me on the ride up the mountains. i was so thirsty that i went back to my devotions of the morning and read the story of the three wise men in Matthew 2:1-12, and was struck to the core by the reflective questions the devotion asked me: "Ponder the passage about going home a new way. What new paths do you want to try this year? what new ways of doing things do you want to experience?" it was so remarkable that i could feel so at home, so soon, in such a new place. and yet i knew that God would have completely new lessons to teach me, too, if only i would listen to him first and then offer my prayers in humility, and only then be able to honestly offer my hands and ears and mouth and heart in service to others, as a 'lighthouse'.

that day as i was reading the Culture Shock!Ecuador book, I found an interesting figure of speech in Spanish. when a woman is pregnant, instead of talking directly about when the baby will be born, people will say, "Cuando va a llegar la luz?" (when is the light going to arrive?) Now if one child is a light, a blessing bringing new life to the parents and family and friends around him/her, then it shows how powerful our Christ is, to be the Light of the World, a blessing and bringer of new life to all people in all times and places.

that day we Taylor students arrived like innocent babies into new families, in a new city, a new culture. i received a bouquet of roses, many kisses on the cheek, and a new name: Anita. 'little Anna'. that's right--in God's family we have to learn to be little, to be last, before we can be leaders or effective servants. yes, it made me feel a bit little-girl-ish. yet when i heard people call me this name, it was always filled with the utmost affection and appreciation. like they were pronouncing a blessing on me as they called me by name. like a prayer, offered in humility. i still have so much to learn, from that journey i took on the day of the fools. what can bring life to a dead person? Jesus' power. prayer. and what can bring humility to a proud person? i'm still finding out. pray that i and others would keep on proclaiming the fact that we are just forgiven fools.