Pinata Party

Nothing says "party" more than hitting a paper maché doll with a stick until candy falls out.

Yes, folks, we're talking about piñatas. Traditionally used in Nicaragua with children, I prefer to use anyone's birthday as an excuse for a piñata. And really, no one here complains. So on Sunday, my friend Roberto had a birthday, and we went to celebrate with him. All of us Cohort members went, thinking we would go to church, have lunch, and enjoy cake and piñata in the afternoon. But our plans were not the only plans that day.

The teams that we work with in the León communities (ETU) decided they wanted to celebrate Roberto's birthday, too. They showed up around 10:30 with food and went to work in the kitchen built for a family of 4. I think they crammed 8 women in there at one time! Needless to say, we did not go to church.

While we waited for the food to cook, we decided to do the piñata before lunch to pass the time. Here's a live video of Gordon, our Cohort mentor, taking a swing. The general practice is to blindfold the person, help them locate the piñata the first time, and then let them go at it. Onlookers shout "Arriba" (up) or "abajo" (down) to indicate where the person should swing. Sometimes we like to shout the opposite because it's really funny to watch someone swinging at nothing. See?

After a delicious meal, we had cake, too! While Roberto was posing for pictures, one of the ladies from an ETU team smeared him with frosting. Always holding onto his sense of humor, Roberto left it on for the rest of the cake-cutting ceremony. We sang a birthday song, everyone congratulated him, and we prayed for him. It was a great celebration, and a beautiful expression of friendship and appreciation even from the people with whom we work in the communities. Happy birthday, Roberto!

Gifts from God

Being part of God's plan is a precious and humbling thing. Could the Lord really use a broken vessel like me?

Often I focus on how God is working in my life. I know that he is using other people to speak to me, to provide for my needs, to inspire me to continue in the path of Jesus Christ. However, I rarely think about how God might be using me to answer others' prayers. I ask him to make me a blessing to others, but I don't expect to know how he is carrying that out. Yesterday, I heard a story about God's provision and plan that still brings me to tears.

On Saturday, January 4, my friend and supervisor, Roberto, and his wife, Gricelda, knocked on the door of a beautiful orange house. The family was getting ready for their evening church service, and everyone was busily getting ready. Who could be knocking at this hour of the afternoon? Rebecca, the 9-year-old daughter, said, "Mom, I think that's Roberto's voice." "What could Roberto want with us? The student who was living with us left a month ago," thought Idalia, the mother. She went to the door and welcomed the couple. Roberto explained that a missionary girl was coming to Nicaragua for a year. She had come three years earlier as a student, but now she was returning to work, and she wanted a different type of experience. Idalia's family had not hosted a student when the missionary girl was in Nicaragua, so she didn't know them. "Don't worry about the room for her. This girl can handle anything," the couple told Idalia. The girl moved in on Monday, January 6.

Idalia's husband, Mario, owns a microbus which functions as a taxi for groups as well as transportation for the family. It was in the shop most of December, and the repairs cost a lot of money. When the micro needed more attention in January, the family didn't know how they would pay for it. But Idalia prayed to the Lord, asking him to provide. She trusted that her heavenly Father would take care of her family and give them what they needed. That week, the missionary girl moved into the house, and she paid the family for room and board. The amount of her payment was exactly what was needed for the repairs to the microbus.

I am the missionary girl, and Idalia is my host mother. She told me last night that I am the completion of God's promises to her family. The Lord provided for her through me. And we dreamed of other ways that God will use us together in the next months.

These past few weeks, I have been thinking that this family is God's gift to me. The house is comfortable, and I love the atmosphere of the family. They are respectful yet playful. There is a spirit of harmony and hard work in the house. The father, Mario, has worked on an American cruise line for over 20 years, and they understand a bit about cross-cultural relations between North Americans and Nicaraguans. I feel comfortable to be myself in this family, and even to argue about doctrine or teachings in the Bible. They are good at challenging me, and I feel comfortable challenging them and speaking from my experiences. I pray that instead of offending and damaging relations, we are building each other up in knowledge and wisdom of the Lord. All the while that I have been rejoicing in my placement with this family, they too have been thanking God for me. Incredible. What a gift!

P.S. Another gift from today: I visited a church called Promesa (Promise) that is only 3 blocks from my house. I met the pastor at a meeting of pastors with the Nehemiah Center, and I found out that he has a church close to my house. Wonder of wonders, they had a screen with the words for the songs so that I could follow along on the ones I didn't know. I was a visitor there, and I really liked it. Maybe I've found a regular Thursday night church service!

Whose Mountain?

Somehow as Christians, we always find things to fight about. We discuss whether infant or adult baptism is more biblical, whether or not we should go out to eat on Sundays, if an evening church service should be preserved at all costs... In Nicaragua, I have heard people argue about whether or not women should always wear skirts, or if the tithes should strictly support the minister or be used for other things in the church as well.

These discussions are valuable. "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" (Proverbs 27:17). When we need to defend our opinions and customs according to the Bible, we learn more about what is in God's word. We may also appreciate the diversity in humanity and even Christianity.

However, sometimes these discussions can carry us away from the real point of our belief, which is Christ and our worship of him. Some of us don't like hymns, and others can't stand the so-called "Seven-Eleven" songs. Should women, men, or no one cover their heads in church? Does the pastor need to wear a tie or not? Should the elders wear dark suits when they serve communion?

If we think Worship Wars are a new thing, they are not.

In John 4, Jesus is traveling from Judea back to his hometown of Galilee. He had to go through a region called Samaria, where few Jews deigned to walk. They would add days to their journey in order to avoid going through this area. But Jesus chose to travel through Samaria. With the midday sun burning down on Jesus and his disciples, they stopped in the town of Sychar. Tired, Jesus sat by the town well while the disciples went to get food. As Jesus sagged by the well, a woman came to draw water. When he asked her for a drink, she was taken aback. What could a Jewish man want from a woman, much less a Samaritan? They talk about water and being thirsty for a while, and then the woman's husbands - or lack thereof. Suddenly, a change of subject. The Samaritan woman decides to talk religion.

The woman said to him, "Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship."

Is she picking a fight? [This is the part where I could do serious exegetical study and give you some background on the Jewish/Samaritan conflict as well as worship practices... but it's 9:30 at night, I'm still warm sitting in my shorts, and I've been in meetings all day. We'll leave that for another time.] She purposefully chooses to ask about whose mountain is the place of worship. Maybe she's even implying that the Samaritans have worshiped faithfully on their mountain even while the Jews were far from Jerusalem in exile. She chooses the hottest topic of the current worship wars, and brings it up to this stranger, Jesus.

But Jesus answers her differently than I expected, and it probably wasn't what she expected, either.

Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth."

Spirit and truth. This is what I prayed for last weekend. I had gone to church with my family on Thursday night (in Nicaragua most churches have a service 5-6 times a week), and I visited a different church on Sunday evening. The service on Thursday had been, well, less than satisfying. The pastor tried to play the keyboard to accompany spontaneous soloists, but he always used the same rhythm and chords. Even when I knew the song, I could hardly follow because of the overpowering volume of the music that didn't really match the melody. In the midst of my internal complaints, I realized that my worship is very small.

I need the service to be just so. If I don't agree theologically with what people are saying, I criticize and feel superior. When the whole congregation raises its voice in prayer, I feel distressed because I can't hear the pastor praying. If the music is out of tune or without a good melody, it bothers me. I cannot put aside my preconceived notions about how a worship service should be in order to adore the Lord and learn from his people. That is wrong.

The way I prefer to worship is my mountain, and I want Jesus to explain why people worship somewhere else, in some other way. But he says that the time has come when the place - and maybe even manner - of worship is not important. Rather, spirit and truth are what God desires for worship.

I visited a church on Sunday night that was quite foreign to me. Nicaraguans in general, regardless of church denomination, are a livelier bunch in worship than I am accustomed to in worship. They all raise their voices during prayer, shouting "Si, Senor!" "Aleluya!" "Gracias Padre!" This is not the quiet agreement that some in my circles murmur during prayer; it is an out-and-out interruption in my North American mind.

The music was loud enough to make my heart vibrate in my chest. The worship leader shouted into the microphone, and the people were getting more and more excited. Usually I'm quite suspicious of such emotional behavior while singing because it feels manipulative and fleeting to me.

True worshipers will worship in spirit and in truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him.

With a heart open to worshiping in spirit and truth, I put aside everything that made me feel uncomfortable or superior. I lifted my hand in praise to the Lord. In the crescendo of music, I knew the words in English and Spanish. "Come, now is the time to worship/ come, now is the time to give your heart..." And again, "From the mountains/ to the valleys/ hear our praises/ rise to you..." When a visiting team of charismatic Americans began circulating through the crowd touching people's foreheads and holding their hands as they jumped up and down in the Spirit, I was not afraid or critical. Instead, I was able to pray alongside those who worship differently from me. I was able to rejoice in the idea that every nation, tribe, and language will be in heaven together. As a linguist, this verse from Revelations 9:7 about every tongue excites me, but I didn't realize until this trip that that also means every worship style of the tongues and tribes.

Heaven, it seems, could seem quite chaotic to a reserved Christian Reformed Midwestern girl. GLORIA A DIOS!

[Please forgive the poor photography. I wanted to give you an idea of what church may look like, but I hate taking pictures during services so I moved the camera too quickly while I took the photos.]

Washing dishes

I really like the family with whom I live. The father, Mario, works on a Carnival cruise ship 6-7 months, then returns to Nicaragua for 1-2 months at a time. This has been has work since before he was married. The mother, Idalia, works at home preparing food, taking care of the kids, and is also the secretary for her church, so she keeps busy with the church accounts as well. The oldest son, Albert, is 17 and about to begin university in March. The next son, Samuel, is 12 and usually giggling. The youngest child, Rebecca, is 9 and likes her clothes to match her hair, to match her shoes, etc. They are a wonderfully relaxed family, and their home is beautiful. In the backyard, they have several rooms that they rent to university students who are from out of town. I have not met these students because they are on vacation until the beginning of March.

A major indicator of my comfort here is that they let me do the dishes - and they even thank me for it! Most Nicaraguan families don't let guests help out, but Idalia does. She has no problem with me serving myself breakfast, washing my own clothes, or even cooking. This attitude makes me feel comfortable here because I like to be independent and also helpful. I feel very much at home here, especially because I get to wash the dishes!

Gracias a Dios

It seems like every affirmative in Spanish is followed by the phrase, "Gracias a Dios," which means "Thanks be to God." It could be only custom, a tired phrase that no one really hears. However, for me, it still has meaning.

Gracias a Dios, I made it safely to Nicaragua. I was supposed to fly with another young woman going to Nicaragua, and we knew each other from training in the fall. However, we left on Thursday, January 2, and the airport had cancelled flights on Wednesday, and the weather was still not good. We ended up being separated, but we both arrived at our intended destination with all our bags by 11:30 pm Thursday night.

Gracias a Dios, my aunt and uncle hosted us at a farming ministry near the city of Diriamba for a few days. My uncle and aunt are involved in this agricultural ministry for several months of the year, and I got to see what they have been telling me about for the last three years. I was even able to help with a sorghum harvest. The weather was lovely, the food was good, and I really enjoyed spending time with my aunt and uncle.

Gracias a Dios, the Nehemiah Center is still an active, vibrant ministry. Since my first trip to the Nehemiah Center in 2008, I have been enchanted with this ministry. I love the model of international and national believers working together to bring Christ's transformation to a country of great need. When I was in Nicaragua three years ago, I interned at the Nehemiah Center, and I'm glad to return for a year of working with its programs.

Gracias a Dios, my new lodgings in León are great. I really like the family with whom I live, and I also have a lot of freedom to do my own thing. The house where I live has luxuries like internet and a microwave, and the family is a bit familiar with the United States. They are strong Christians, and I like their approach to life.

Gracias a Dios, I have begun to explore options for work. It seems I'll be working with my friend, Roberto, in community development as well as some new friends in church partnerships. I have met with some, but the work is still taking shape. We will see what happens, but I am excited about the possibilities.

Gracias a Dios, I have not been sick yet, and I have been eating what is put before me. The breeze makes the heat bearable. My Spanish is coming back bit by bit. All in all, I have begun to be accustomed to living here after one week.

Thanks be to God for taking me to this place, for preparing the way for me, and for keeping me while I'm here. Thanks be to God for his unfailing love in our lives. He is the one who gives us life, who protects us from all sorts of dangers, and who gives us rest. Today, I am thankful.