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Picture this….the ride into Asunción

July 19, 2009 | posted by Jon under gys, mwc, paraguay!, photos | Comments (5)

	Filadelfia to Asuncion, PY July 5-8, 2009
			Asuncion and Global Youth Summit July 9-12, 2009

Meanwhile, back on the Altiplano…

June 20, 2009 | posted by Jon under bolivia, reflections, updates | Comments (6)

Altiplano: (high plain) An extensive plain that sits at around 11,000 feet above sea level and occupies parts of Chile, Peru, Argentina, Bolivia, and Ecuador, the altiplano is the largest high plateau in the world except for that of the Himalayas in Tibet (Wikipedia).

Besides pondering how many pounds of dirt and rock were underneath our wheels as we rode through this high plain, these past three weeks bring so many rich and varied experiences to mind that I am at a loss as to how to tie them all together, so I will call upon the help of the three photo albums that we just posted to supplement the small tidbits I will leave you with below, in more or less of a chronological order.

• While in Cusco, we had the privilege of staying with Shultz Family, missionaries there with EMM who are closely tied with the Mennonite church in Cusco as well as PROMESA, a Mennonite affiliated bilingual school begun in 2005.  Looking back on it, our time with the Shultz´s was, I think, one of our most comfortable long term stays on this trip.  By the time we left (8 days later), I essentially felt like a member of the Shultz family, and was continually amazed by the quality of the home cooked food that came out of their kitchen.  The hospitality didn´t end when we left either, as we were sent off with 4 sandwiches, 6 homemade bagels, trail mix, dried apples, 8 peppermint patties, and a variety of fresh fruits.  Lars and I talked about how our experience with the Shultz Family provided us with an excellent example of how to be hospitable to others in our own homes when we return to the US.

• Almost three days of riding outside of Cusco, along the northern shores of Lake Titicaca, we had the good fortune to stumble upon a local government capacitation initiative to teach women from the outskirts of Puno how to naturally dye alpaca yarn to use in knitting various handmade clothing articles to see in the artisan markets in Puno and elsewhere.  It was wonderful to see all of the colors, to chat with the women, and to share with them the excitement of learning a new skill.  They also shared with us some wonderful potatoes (baked in the earth), which we dipped into two delicious sauces, one which was also made of earth (see a theme here?).  We left this roadside capacitation project full of hope for these women and more sure than ever that the best way to encounter interactions like this is by traveling slowly, by bicycle.

• Leaving Puno, we encountered our first paro, or strike.  This strike was a nationwide initiative to call attention to deals the Peruvian government was making with international corporations in the selva, or rain forest portion of Peru that gave the corporations basically free reign over the land, with little regard or consultation to the people actually living there.  We encountered people demonstrating, making speeches, and many sparkling shards of broken glass and rocks on the road, which made for nice traffic-free riding

• Arriving in the tiny town of Acora after dodging glass shards and spending our last few minutes of daylight, we sought out the local parish, but were disappointed to find no one there.  A few minutes later a priest came running up to the door, hurrying us inside, telling us we were crazy for being out here in this cold, doing what we were doing.  Many cups of coca tea and pieces of bread with fried eggs later, we learned that Victor, a German priest that had lived in Altiplano for many years, was not your typical Catholic priest.  He was living way out in the campo, helping the farmers to manage their crops and livestock in ways that made sense, were inexpensive, and provided better yields in an already harsh environment.  Victor was one of those people that it was just easy to connect with, and we thoroughly enjoyed talking to him before we retired to our cozy room for the evening, only to have Victor knock on the door and gift us each with some German chocolate sent by his mother.  It was delicious, but even more so for the generosity involved.

• Fast-forwarding to the more recent, after memories of fiery sunsets over Lake Titicaca (yes, our camera batteries DID run out right at that moment), seeing friends in La Paz, and an exhilarating descent into the Cochabamba Valley, we arrived in downtown Cochabamba, where we were met by Natalia, an SPI participant who offered to host us after hearing about our trip.  Our stay with them has been a blessing, especially since I have been battling a rather fierce GI bug for the last few days.  However, I can report that things are improving, and that I am well hydrated after 1.5 L of Mandarin Gatorade, 2 L of sugar/salt water, and a variety of soups and broths made by our wonderful hosts.

So what is to be taken from each of these experiences?

Notice the people around you.  Open your house to them. Teach them something new.  Provide them with new work. Stand with them in injustices.   Usher them in from the cold.  Live with them out in the sticks. Give them part of your mother´s care package.  Care for them when they are ill.

These are lessons that I have learned from the past three weeks, but only because I was on the receiving end of almost all of them.  May I (we) have the courage of employ such practices in our own lives, so that others may be on the receiving end of God´s provision.

Looking down, looking ahead

May 21, 2009 | posted by Jon under peru, updates | Comments (9)

Because the community of readers that checks this blog regularly has been so supportive of this trip through emails, offers for places to stay, and comments, I figured I owed it to “the enjoyment of the people” to quickly recount an event that actually just happened minutes after Lars’ last post, while we were staying with the Catholic church in Barranca.

Long story short, I fell in a hole.  I know, I don’t remember the last time I fell in a hole either… To my defense, the Plaza de Armas (where the church was located) was being COMPLETELY redone, and there were dangerous 5-6 foot deep trenches everywhere.  Even so, I usually see myself as a fairly well-balanced person, especially from all the slackline practice I have indulged in at EMU.  Despite this, as I was wheeling my BOB trailer around on the sidewalk, I suddenly stepped where there was nowhere to step.  In a split-second I found myself standing upright, chin deep in a hole with my BOB trailer on top of me, and a wonderfully kind 80-year-old Catholic priest trying to help me out of the hole.  I politely but quickly declined his help, not wanting to have the father in the hole as well as I climbed out and dusted myself off.  I later learned that I had fallen on the city water main, which thankfully remained intact despite my landing on it.  I was quite glad to be spared the title of “The Gringo who flooded the Plaza de Armas,” and walked away from the whole thing laughing at myself.

The next day my right shoulder was quite stiff and it hurt to bear weight on it, so we took a bus to Lima, where we were fortunate enough to find the Mennonite church in Lima and stay with them for the long weekend.  We enjoyed getting to know Jaqueline, (”the encargada” at the church while the pastor is on vacation), and the youth of the congregation.  We sang songs and told stories (in Spanish) Saturday night in Miraflores Park, as well as had lunch with the youth on Sunday afternoon.  We also enjoyed having access to a well-equipped kitchen and being within walking distance of a giant grocery story. Highlights include sweet potato and spinach curry and some wonderful avocado/egg/aji sandwiches which I believe are pictured in our photo gallery.

Since leaving Lima on Monday, we’ve encountered:

Hospitality in Mala - staying in a Catholic elementary school and being served delicacies such as potted meat and paneton, the Latin American fruitcake, which is quite good.

Healing in Pisco - the town suffered an earthquake in 2007 which registered a magnitude 8.0 and lasted for 3 minutes.  Much of what we encountered there was related to rebuilding and piecing back together what used to be.

Healthy Eating in Ica - where we purchased 1.8 L of drinkable peach yogurt and then stretched that with another 1 L of 3 grain enriched milk beverage.  The combo was quite good, and we got our dairy for the rest of our time in the Andes.

Today we find ourselves in Nazca, among the mysterious lines and the foothills of the Andes.  We plan to rest here for a day, then begin our journey upwards on Saturday, the 23rd.  We ask for your continued prayers and thoughts as we switch gears, terrain, culture, and climate once again on our way to Paraguay.

On to South America…

May 1, 2009 | posted by Jon under updates | Comments (5)

Despite Managua, Nicaragua being the “official” halfway point, last Friday, April 24th, Lars and I pulled into Panama City, ending our North American portion of our route. At the time I would have loved think about the occasion more, but we decided to go out in style by waking up at 4 AM and riding 155 miles in one day to get into Panama City a day early.  We finished the day just as the sun was setting over the Bridge of the Americas, and without too much trouble, which was encouraging for us, especially with the Andes still ahead.

After showering, sleeping very well Friday night, and doing some journaling, I finally had time to think about the end of this leg of our journey and the beginning of South America (no revelations promised).

First, I cannot believe that we are at this point in our trip already.  For all of those lonely, uncomfortable times on the bike these past few months have moved rather quickly.

Second, I have been blown away by the hospitality of…people.  Not any one type or faith background in particular, but just people in general.  We have yet to use the tent we have been carrying, and time and time again we have been offered food, money, a shower, a bed, or even simply advice.  We are journeying with the prayers and love sent from back home and the direct assistance of those we have met along the way.  This combination of support has been incredible to experience.  A wonderful, unexpected surprise.

Third, (and I think I can speak for Lars here), our experience with the North America we passed through has been rich.  The people we have met, the foods we have tried, the cultures we have encountered, the communities we have entered all have been blessings to us - helping to make this experience of sharing with and pedalling through 8 countries unforgettable, and we still have 4 left!

Things I will miss about North America (mostly food related…sorry): Mexican sweet bread, the EMU Guatemala Cross Cultural, Dos Pinos and Estrella Azul icre cream (Costa Rica and Panama, respectively), gallo pinto (Nicaragua and Costa Rica), the Gorton´s house in San Isidro (Costa Rica), Lago Atitlan (Guatemala), Po-Boy´s and The Shed’s barbecue (Southern US), Nutella and peanut butter (wherever it is less than $4 a jar), Oaxacan crickets and mole, and the number of Mennonite contacts we had along our route…..

Things I am looking forward to about South America: the Andes, the native lands of squash, sweet potatoes, and Inca Kola, eating guinea pig, buying alpaca souvenirs, connecting with Andean churches and Mennonites in the Chaco, trying to breath at 14 or 15,000 feet, being cold again.

Prayers of thanks:  for safety, for good health, for a good riding companion, for this experience thus far….

Prayer requests:  for continued safety, for the ”difficult” sections we have spotted on our maps, for continued good health (especially as we start climbing), for our families, friends, and ourselves as we continue on to another continent….

Love your neighbor…

April 13, 2009 | posted by Jon under nicaragua, updates | Comments (6)

Throughout the past few days of riding, a number of chains of thoughts have been cycling through my mind as I try to distract myself from the heat and humidity that the coastal plains of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua have brought us.

I will try to share them with you (hopefully in a coherent fashion) to give you some idea of what we’ve been up to, where we have been, and what I have been thinking about for the past few days.

In Nicaragua, Lars and I recently spoke with man who was wearing a shirt that said, ¨Yes to CAFTA.¨ (for an excellent CAFTA explanation, see Lars’ People of…MASECA? post) We were fascinated by this, and went up to talk to him, because everything that we had ever heard or learned about CAFTA would seem to give Nicaragua one of the strongest voices against CAFTA.  But he spoke positively of the bill, saying that it gave Nicaragua a chance to expand its markets on a more international level.  We shared our opinion as well, saying that we thought the idea in principal was a good one, but that it put unequal markets on the same playing field,benefiting the US more than any other participating country

When George W. Bush was lobbying to pass CAFTA, he referred to Central America as ¨our backyard¨  Does this not make all of the Central American countries our neighbors?  Countries that now share not only the same hemispheres and borders, but also the same products, produce, and ¨prosperity,¨ thanks to CAFTA and the economics of neoliberalism?

Leviticus 19:18 in the Message reads - ¨Love your neighbor as yourself.  I am God.¨  That seems like a pretty clear message to me.  We are called, above many other things, to love our neighbors as ourselves.  I challenge the readers (and writer) of this post to expand the definition of your neighbor to an international level.  I can tell you there is an incredible amount to love about these countries, cultures, and people.  There is also an incredible amount of good that could be done if more neighborly love were shown between countries.

Some questions to ponder:  What does it mean to love neighbors internationally?  Who do we consider our neighbors, especially in this ago of instantaneous communication?  Are we loving our neighbors through CAFTA? What does loving your neighbor mean on the US-Mexico Border?  How do we show our love from afar?  Where do we begin?

Clipped

March 23, 2009 | posted by Jon under mexico, updates | Comments (13)

Looking back on it now, sitting on the shores of Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, it seems like a distant memory. In many ways it is.  On Friday, March 13th, on our way to San Cristobal de Las Casas, a dump truck carrying dirt clipped my B.O.B trailer and brushed past my left hand, thankfully leaving me unharmed.  Unfortunately the B.O.B took a dent and the impact bent my rear wheel so much that it was unrideable. The encounter was more than a little scary for both of us, and I spent the rest of the afternoon in a bus (since we couldn’t ride) wondering how things would have been different had I been two or three inches to the left at that point and time.  I’ve tried not to think much about it since except to thank God for the life I still have and for the continued protection and safety both Lars and I have felt while traveling on a number of mountainous, windy roads to arrive here in Guatemala.

Physically feeling how close the truck came to me was a very unnerving experience, especially after seeing how easily it dented the cro-moly trailer.  Right now I am still getting used to being passed regularly by large trucks again, and I certainly ride more cautiously as a result of what happened.  I don’t want this post to be cause for any alarm, I am fine.  However, I do think this experience can serve as a reminder of the fragility of life, that it is not something to take for granted.  That is about the extent to which I have reflected on or unpacked what happened to me two Fridays ago, but take from it what you will.  Right now I am just thankful for the gift of life and the opportunity to journey onward.  Lord, grant us safety as we travel.

“In the name of…”

March 4, 2009 | posted by Jon under lent, mexico, updates | Comments (11)

As a quick orientation to time and space, Lars and I now find ourselves in Mexico City, MX, where we have been staying since this past Saturday.  We are being hosted by two Mennonite Church communities nestled in the sprawling complex of buildings and traffic that calls itself Mexico City.  Our first stay was coordinated by Ofelia Garcia, a pastor and coordinator of all things Mennonite here in Mexico City.  We stayed with families associated with Pueblo en Transformacion, a Mennonite church she pastored until recently, when her son and another young man took over the pastoral roles. 

We were fortunate enough to be able to worship with this community of 40 on Sunday; attending a bible study, worship service, and then a potluck complete with a birthday cake for Lars.  On Monday we left for another church community, and were met by the pastor of Iglesia Christiana de Paz (an interesting group of church communities affiliated with the Mennonite Church both in the US and in Mexico), Mario Lopez, and his family, whom we have been staying with since Monday evening.  

Since arriving on Saturday afternoon, our time in Mexico has given us much to think about.  First, the city itself.  Mexico City is huge, a whirlwind of people, cultures, traditions, traffic, smog, and buildings, all constantly mixing in what seems like a large vat rimmed by mountain ridges.  Built on top of what was Tenotichtlan, an Aztec metropolis, one could say that the terrain Mexico City was built on ground that has almost always been populated, and unfortunately, contested. 

No one tells the story of this transition from indiginous prosperity to Spanish dominance better than Diego Rivera in his murals on the walls of Palacio Nacional in downtown Mexico City.  Rivera depicts the Spanish Conquistadors as deformed, almost demon-like suppressors of Aztec prominence, and it is hard not to agree with him when viewing his murals.  Most poignant was Rivera’s usage of the cross in his murals…especially in scenes of conquistadors branding and baptizing Aztecs under said symbol.

These images caused me to stop and think about Christianity today (NOT the magazine).  Sure the times, cultures, and religions are different today, but are the worldwide perceptions of Christianity really that much better?  Aren’t there still things being done currently in the name of Christianity in the broadest sense that we are ashamed of (think Iraq war…)?  How can we, as Christians, work to change such perceptions? 

I don’t mean to be critical or the writer of Doomsday Daily, but I do think it is important to think about how the larger world views the way we do things, especially when it is “in the name of something.”  I think we need to be careful when charging forward “in the name of”…be it Christianity, Progress, or even the Common Good. 

The small Spanish outpost that once stood atop a smoldering Tenotichtlan has grown into one of the largest cities in the world, with little room to expand, originally in the name of God, Gold, and Glory.  What is the future of Mexico City?  Is growth and expansion always best?  Is it the way we are taught or meant to live?  What would Christ have to say to the Aztecs? The Spanish Conquistadors?  To us today?  All questions to ponder…”in the name of” careful, prayerful discernment. 

The Promise of Peter Piper

February 18, 2009 | posted by Jon under mexico, updates | Comments (15)

As we left the relative comfort and security of the Casa Migrante on Monday morning, I had no idea what to expect.  We tried to ask many different people about the road from Nuevo Laredo to Monterrey, but it was difficult to get a concrete answer.  The general concensus was that the road was dangerous, mostly due to drug trafficking and the unofficial “lawless zone” that exists in the 40 miles leading up to the border.  Some people we talked to told us we would have no problem at all, that we shouldn’t worry about a thing.  One man we talked to gravely told us that he hoped we would make through the stretch of road alive at all…..so it was with his words running through my head that we headed out into the drizzle for Monterrey.   

The first 20 miles weren’t memorable except for the fact that I was overly jumpy, eyeing each car or truck with tinted windows with suspiscion.  I wasn’t at ease, and wasn’t inclined to trust anyone except God, Lars and myself.  It was a stressful time for me, and I felt alone. 

The checkpoint didn’t help matters.  They asked us for the form that we filled out when we crossed the border.  The problem was we never filled out a thing.  We had to be driven back to the bridge to fill out the form and pay the $18.33 in order to leave Nuevo Laredo.  Aside from wildly fishtailing due to the rain on the way there, it was an uneventful process, and we were glad to be spared the additional 40 miles of riding. 

After leaving the checkpoint, the buildings diminished into scrub brush and prickly pear.  It felt like we were truly vulnerable now, especially with the fog that limited our visibility.  As we were riding along, a car/truck combination slowed down to our speed and pulled up beside us.  I was scared, and gave the truck a wide berth.  Still moving at 12 mph, a man rolled down his window on the passenger’s side and asked me in Spanish if I wanted a pizza.  I thought I had misheard or misunderstood him, still slightly doubting my Spanish abilities.  But as we slowly rolled along he reached down and handed me a pizza box, full of 7 still-hot slices of Peter Piper Pizza, complete with sausage, bacon, and onion with crushed chilis on the side.   

The pizza was, not surprisingly, delicious, and Lars and I delightfully pulled off to the side of the road to partake of our precious pie.  As we ate, we discussed the random kindness of this act, and how it fed more than our stomachs.  This pizza was reassurance that no, not everyone was out to get us, and that people still exist that are willing to help out absolute strangers.  Moreover, it was assurance of God’s providence (how else do you get a hot, fresh pizza in the middle of a rainy Mexican desert??) and protection.  Suddenly (and I think I can speak for Lars as well) we felt at ease, more comfortable in this foreign land. 

The remaining 35 miles passed easily with a wind at our back and the wide shoulder of the toll road, even more encouragement for the day.  After being told that we didn’t have to pay the toll (as long as we went around their gates), we left the main drag to look for a place to stay for the night.  We pulled into Super Stop and Go (think very friendly gas station without gas and better food), and began talking with the owners - Maria and Iseo.  They immediately sat us down in chairs and served us two boxes of taquitos.  From that simple act of hospitality flowed many others (see pictures)- tamale making instruction, tamales, coffee, and fresh grapefruit for dinner, a “casita” where we could stay the night, and then to top it off, breakfast in the morning (huevos rancheros, more tamales, hot tortillas, avocado, and more citrus fruit).  

As we left (after buying a dozen more tamales for lunch), we felt limited by our Spanish, lacking the words of considerable thanks necessary for such an outpouring of one´s home, business, and resources.  That’s how I feel now as well.  Limited by language in my ability to express the transformations that occurred throughout that first day in Mexico.  The theft we anticipated turned into abundant giving, and the fear and distrust we had was replaced with reassurance and hospitality, allowing us to simply relax and experience this new place we now find ourselves in.    My hope is that we can find ways to engage the “pizzas along the road,” with the intention of returning some of God’s many unexpected blessings we’ve encountered throughout our journey.   

Throughout the past five cities…

February 3, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates | Comments (13)

…..we’ve encountered church in its many manifestations. Hospitable, worshipful, solemn, uninviting, impersonal, friendly, interested, uncaring, alive, thriving, and bold. In each of the days of riding between New Orleans, LA and Port Arthur, TX, we have either stayed in or been provided for by some faith-based organization, and it’s been an interesting journey. Lars and I have been discussing our recent church sampling over the hours we spend on our bikes everyday, and we wanted to share some of the insights and also questions from our time spent moving from congregation to congregation. Here’s the rundown:

New Orleans, LA : Iglesia Amor Viviente

The Big Easy - a city of contrasts. Bourbon Street blocks away from the Catholic church on Jackson Square, thousands of church-goers and practicing witches, Mardi Gras and Lent. A mixture of cultures, customs, and religions that is evident in the city’s cuisine and music. While in New Orleans, we stayed in a luxurious 4 bed, 2 bath apartment provided by Iglesia Amor Viviente in Metairie, just outside the city. Their church was doing a week of prayer and fasting along with nightly meetings to worship and pray together. We joined them in two of the services, but unfortunately not in the fasting :). The church experience there was alive, caring, and interested in our journey, recommending contacts for us in Latin America as well as where the best shrimp Po’ Boys could be found. I continue to be surprised and renewed by the diverse group of people that associate themselves with the term “Mennonite.”

Morgan City, LA : Ministerial Alliance

A town of industry, much of the business route into Morgan City was dominated by shipping and oil structures. We eventually found our way to The Healing Center Fellowship - a non-denominational church pastored by John Smilie (yes we liked his last name, too). His wife, Jean, took us in and offered something to drink while John told us about the Ministerial Alliance - a coalition of churches in Morgan City who fund food and hotel vouchers for “transient” people such as ourselves. So after a short background check, we were eating McDonald’s and staying in a hotel courtesy of the churches of Morgan City. As delighted as we were to encounter this program (and, being recipient, we can’t knock the program), it raised some questions for us. Is this program, wonderful as it is, doing the work of the church in a less personal manner? Is there anything lost when buying a hotel room for someone rather than hosting them in your church or home ?

Abbeville, LA : St. Mary Magdalen Catholic Church

Abbeville is 90% Catholic. Not all practicing, but it certainly seemed that way as we pulled into town right before the 4 PM Saturday mass. Cars were parked triple wide on the street, but it didn’t matter. Almost everyone was going to church. So, naturally, we did too. After the service, (and realizing that I hadn’t been to enough Catholic services to know when to do what), we got to talking to Father Don, who led the worship that day. In ten minutes we were in his car headed for one of the nicest seafood restaurants in town. In two hours we were full of great seafood and had a hotel room for the next two nights. That was how Father Don was. You couldn’t refuse his hospitality. He didn’t give you a chance, and you had to have a good reason not to accept. His hospitality knocked our combined socks off, and we laid on our hotel beds bewildered, wondering how we so quickly went from a church service with no place to go to a hotel room with 2 continental breakfasts to look forward to. God is good, and sometimes more than good for no apparent reason. How can we emulate the grace and “pushy” nature of Father Don’s hospitality? How does it become so natural that it seems rude to decline?

Lake Charles, LA : First Methodist School

After trying our public library standby, and getting turned down by two huge churches telling us “they weren’t equipped to host us,” we decided to try a preschool connected with a Methodist Church in town. Unconventional, but it worked. The director, Sharon, let us in and gave us a 1/2 gallon of grape juice and four Lean Cuisine microwave dinners, which were delicious. After dinner we spent the night in the Frog Room, next to Dora the Explorer Huggies and LOTS of colorful laminated signage. So why did we get invited in by a preschool and refused by churches with gyms, weight rooms, and intramural sports? What should the church’s response be to people like us? What message does “not being equipped” send?

Port Arthur, TX : The Rock Community Outreach Center - Assemblies of God

According to Pastor Baugh, pastor of The Rock Community Outreach Center, the town of Port Arthur was planned on the basis of witchcraft and used to be entire white upper class. That has since changed, and the booming oil town of yesterday has gone and with it a “white flight” occurred. The town is now mostly people of African American, Latino, and Vietnamese decent, with quite a few rundown housing projects. We arrived in Port Arthur early, and were trying to decide our next steps when a man at the corner gas station recommended a church two blocks away. So we stumbled upon The Rock. The pastor answered the door, and we soon had a nursery to stay in for the night. Pastor Baugh told us many fascinating stories of passing out food and clothing in the projects, as well as prostitutes and drug dealers weeping when he told them he was there for them. “You just need to go out there and love people” was a quote of his that stuck with me, and one that I think we can all learn from.

So it has been a whirlwind tour of different beliefs, experiences, cultures, and people these past couple of days. One thing I have come to depend on is God as the Orchestrator of all things. In looking at the constants throughout these 5 cities, one thing that remains is that we were provided for, in some way or another. Where someone dropped the hospitality ball, someone else picked it right up. Not that we’ve come to expect people to take us in, it has just happened to us every day for the past four weeks. Even skeptics should start to see a pattern here….

Another constant is that we met and interacted with people trying to follow God. Each in their own way, and with their own twist on things, but that core desire to live a life pleasing to the Lord remains, and we have seen evidence of that pursuit in many people, each serving as a witness to their own spiritual experience.

May the delicate intricacies of this web of connections, people, cultures, religions, and backgrounds that we are attempting to weave throughout this trip be strengthened and guided by God….

Poarch Community Church

February 1, 2009 | posted by Jon under united states, updates | Comments (1)

       Thursday afternoon, January 22, we rolled up to Poarch Community Church, a Mennonite congregation on a Creek Indian Reservation near Atmore, AL.  The first thing we saw upon arrival was the church building, a quaint white structure bookended by two huge oak trees.  Legend has it these two trees were planted when the church was founded, and by looking at them today one can tell the church as been around for a while (50-60 years).  During my time there, I began to associate the those trees with the church community - well rooted in the past, yet providing shelter and fruit (OK, acorns) for people of Poarch today.

     Lars and his home congregation, Harrisonburg Mennonite Church, have been coming to Poarch for a week of fellowship and service for the past 12 years, so he was very well acquainted with everyone there.  However, by Sunday afternoon I was feeling very much at home with the 50 or so members of Poarch Community Church, and more than once was invited back anytime. 

       After the service on Sunday, the church held a potluck that we quickly learned was in honor of us.  I was amazed at how quickly word got around that we were visiting, as well as how quickly so much delicious food was assembled in one location.  Collard greens, fried chicken and pork chops, multiple casseroles, chocolate cheesecake, and SWEET tea were all present and enjoyed by all.

     After eating our fill and “taking some for road,” Lars and I got to sit and talk with three elderly ladies in the church for about two and a half hours.  It was very life-giving and interesting to talk to them, and I wish the conversation could have been recorded.  They were both genuinely interested and concerned about our trip, and at one point we had to pull out a map to reconcile differences in advice regarding the best route to Mobile.  Our conversation wandered from our trip to the broader Church, then back to Poarch Community Church, its history, and finally to what the new casino on the Creek reservation means for the tribe and the church community.

      As we all grew sleepy and the time for Sunday afternoon naps rolled around, we prayed together and then were given big hugs as we said our farewells.  I felt blessed to be part of a conversation that spanned gender, race, and age differences, and I look forward to other such conversations throughout this bike trip.

       That next morning, after some bike maintenance, a few posts on this site, and another delicious meal with the pastor of the church, who we stayed with, we said our goodbyes and headed off towards Mobile.  As we pedalled away, I was left with a pleasant mixture of memories of Poarch, AL. The congregation, the pastor, the three elderly ladies we spoke with, the histories and cultures of Native American Mennonites, the wonderful food, and finally the two huge oak trees - symbols of the ever growing work of God, both in Poarch and throughout the world.