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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?

Can we just get along?

March 25, 2009 | posted by Lars under lent, mexico, reflections, updates | Comments (7)

If you’ve been following our route map recently, you’ve noticed that we’ve made some tracks, and regardless, we’ve had a recent drought of postings.  We’re doing fine, and Jon’s bike is back on the road, we just haven’t had the internet access or energy (we’ve been in southern Mexico and Guatemala, after all!) to post.  We’re now in Guatemala City at SEMILLA, the Anabaptist seminary here, but the past two weeks are worth some collective thought, so we’ll take it in steps.

While in San Cristóbal de las Casas (Chiapas, México), we stayed at INESIN (Institute for Intercultural Studies and Investigation), an ecumenical Christian center which promotes peace in Chiapas through intercultural and interreligious dialogue.  It’s important work in a region as torn as Chiapas has become - the religious landscape shows some of these, with Christianity, both Roman Catholic and ‘evangelical’ - neither of which recognizes the other as ‘Christian’ - and pantheism, woven deeply into the fabric of many indigenous communities.  Add in politics, community organizations, international missionaries & corporations, and indigenous rights movements and it’s a picture which demands more historical background to be even marginally understood.

Geographically, the state of Chiapas lies on Mexico’s southern border with Guatemala, is about half coastal plain and half rugged, heavily forested mountains, and contains nearly 40% of Mexico’s water resources.  Thanks in part to these mountains, for several centuries after the Spanish conquest and into Mexican statehood the large indigenous population of Chiapas (which shares more common history & culture with indigenous Guatemalans than with those in the rest of Mexico) remained largely unified - poor and Catholic - and voted as a single block, as well.  Over the past century or so however, foreign missionaries, strong community leaders, movements for land reform, the introduction of a multi-party political system, and the Zapatista National Liberation Army splintered the state - and its communities - along so many deeply inflamed conviction-etched lines that in many places communities exiled their members who believed differently than the majority, leading to at least 400,000 internally displaced persons in Chiapas in the mid-1990s - fully 10% of the entire state.  Military massacres throughout the ’90s in response to the Zapatistas’ uprising in 1994 (when they demanded what had been promised but not given to the indigenous peoples for centuries) contributed to increased instability and distrust, and brought the perfect storm into the international spotlight.  All the while, the government signs away rights to the region’s biodiversity and plentiful water to multinational pharmaceutical and bottling corporations.

While the situation now has cooled enough that people aren’t dying, the divisions still run deep and painful.  It’s in this context that INESIN operates, offering workshops in their facility and in communities, allowing people to study the Bible and get to know each other in a setting not aligned with one political party or denomination, and teaching elements of sustainable agriculture, conflict transformation, and prevention of family & gender violence to interested community members.  It’s a small effort, rooted in the community and led by a handful of chiapeños and international volunteers (including a couple with MCC), but it’s been a while since I’ve seen something truly worthwhile happen fast.  Maybe someday, community by community, Chiapas will celebrate and find strength in its diversity.

Maybe someday, the church, too, will find similar strength and reason to celebrate.  “We all have strengths,” director Martín Guerrero reminded a group while we were there, “we at INESIN don’t believe that the many churches should lose their identity to be one church - it’s that diversity reminds us of the many forms of God’s grace.”  Their message seemed clear: ecumenical doesn’t mean floating in and out of whatever church serves your needs - it means being rooted and it means finding common roots; it means being able to celebrate and learn from the unique ways each community of faith follows Jesus Christ.  It means the hard work of learning to live together.

But this is our work.

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 Monterrey Challenge

February 22, 2009 | posted by Lars under mexico, updates | Comments (4)

Don’t worry, this challenge doesn’t have to do with tenting in the second largest metropolitan area in Mexico or punishing ascents into the mountains of the country’s interior.  We were well cared for in Monterrey, and the climbing, while more than we had experience to that point in the trip, wasn’t terrible.  It relates to a statistic we learned from our hosts in Monterrey, and an attempt to understand our host culture a bit better.

Okay - brace yourself.  This is mind-blowing, so you’d best sit down.  As we biked through the suburbs of Monterrey, we could tell we were entering a world-class city, but to learn from our hosts that Monterrey tops the world in soda consumption per capita, tipping the glass at 2 liters per person per day was unimaginable to us.  For a city of 3.8 million, that’s 3 Olympic-sized swimming pools filled with soda each day! Needing to be sure, we asked others we met, with the uniform response of “oh, at least.”  For the statistically-inclined, we might consider that the median is actually higher than 2L - that most people drink more thank that, with those who drink none pulling the average down.  Incredible.

Our experience anecdotally confirmed what we had heard.  Coke and Pepsi, alongside apple, grapefruit, and other sodas stood on most tables at mealtime, with slogans like “a place in your kitchen” (that’s Coke, for the curious).

With soda as the drink of choice for lunch, snack, and supper, it’s little wonder that there are so many signs advertising “new, cheaper diabetes treatments” peppering the streets.  There seemed to be plenty of knowledge of the cause-and-effect present, but economics and the lack of drinkable running water defined choices for families.

So, without really intending to, we attempted what we dubbed “The Monterrey Challenge” - drink 2L of soda in one day.  (We also decided that the real challenge would be to drink the required volume each of the days you stayed in Monterrey, but we weren’t equal to that challenge.)  Even after a half liter each for lunch the day we left Monterrey, we had no intentions of downing four times that before bed, but the economics of it did us in.  With no restaurants in the dusty little town of Puerto México, we stocked up for supper in the only store in town, where a 2.5L bottle of Coke was a better deal than individual .5L bottles for both of us.  Washing down our cold tostadas and refried beans in the dark after almost 80 miles of biking (yes, there’s more of a story here!), we realized we only needed to split a .5L soda to log 2L each for the day.  Jarritos tamarind-flavored soda did the honors.

Ugh.

Anyone up for a challenge?

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.   

Migrantes al sur

February 15, 2009 | posted by Lars under mexico, updates | Comments (6)

These are excerpts from my recent journals.  While they’re not a comprehensive look at the past several days, hopefully they’ll at least be a picture for you.

February 12, 2009 (Thursday)
Freer, TX - Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, MX : 68.5 miles

An early start helped us finish the day’s ride before the heat of the afternoon.  Sunrise and the morning light seems to re-enliven all the world - even the brush desert.

Sunrise -
even the tumbleweeds
bloom with freshness.

We spoke with border patrol officers at a checkpoint 40 miles north of Laredo (there are checkpoints on every road north out of Mexico), at the border, and also called the USBP Laredo office in homes of getting a tour of a detention facility, etc. with no luck - apparently they don’t get the question much.  They were nice enough people, it just seemed like they were unwittingly caught as part of the gauze on the wound of someone who’s been taking anticoagulants for years.  They’re just not stopping the flow, not addressing the issue, and arguably making the situation worse by trying to clean the wound constantly.

We crossed the border, though (it wasn’t hard for us - no documents were necessary to leave the US) and made our way to La Casa del Migrante, a migrant hospitality house run by the Roman Catholic Scalabrinian order.  While we waited outside for the house to open, our bikes (and our gringo-ness) made conversation with the other men who were also waiting.  Some wanted to practice their English with us, others simply asked, “¿Qué haces?” “What are you doing here?” and others asked about the load we are carrying or the brands and costs of our bikes.  Generally, it seemed, we were seen as novelties, as curious aberrations from the typical migrant - we are heading south, after all - but as migrants, nonetheless.  In the midst of one of these conversations, a man from Honduras told us, “si eres un amigo a los migrantes, eres un amigo a Dios,” “if you are friend of migrants, you are a friend of God.“  From him, it was an especially poignant reminder of the upside-down kingdom, the politics of gentleness and love upon which Christ’s community is built.  Between moments like this and fielding questions about how much we spent on our bikes, we had plenty to think about before anyone even opened the doors of the shelter.

All of the men we spoke with on the street raved about the hospitality of the Scalabrinians (though they spoke of it as “La Casa del Migrante”) and assured us - without our asking - that they would also take care of us.  And they did, but not without a bit of to-do and the calling of superiors.  See, we are not your usual migrants who are forced to emigrate for economic reasons and do not have means to stay elsewhere besides the house, so we don’t quite fit in the center of the mission’s mission, one could say.  They did finally decide to host us - there was plenty of room in the inn - and made sure to tell us that we would be treated no differently from the migrants, to which we responded that we assumed nothing differently.  So, sure that we would not be displacing anyone who was heading north, we registered and joined the other men who were lounging about the interior patio, giving each other haircuts, and washing their clothes.  After supper, a man from a local newspaper came looking for workers for the next day, we were lectured about the house rules (there are many, thanks in part to the human and drug trafficking so closely linked to migration here), and after free time filled with casual conversation and our obligatory shower (it’s in the rules!), all 70-80 of us bedded down by 10:30, set for a 6:00 wake-up and 7:00 on the streets for the day.

February 13, 2009 (Friday)
Rest day in  Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, MX

As we left the house for the day, I saw a woman in line to leave and this evening I saw another.  This may seem like an odd observation, but it’s quite apparent when you spend any amount of time in groups of migrants - here or in the Shenadoah Valley, for that matter.  Both appeared to be with their husbands; I imagine that very few single women travel north alone.  I have seen no children here at all, save for the young men on their first trip north.  I’m sure that some of them would still be in high school in the US.

We spent most of the day trying to find and unlock cell phones for use in Mexico.  This entailed riding our bikes from shop to shop - and there are plenty - and asking if they carried “celulares cuatribandas” and if they could unlock Jon’s cell phone.  Since just about every block in Nuevo Laredo’s downtown has a storefront for both of the country’s major cell providers, and each of these is independently owned and operated, we received any number of responses to these questions, from “¿Qué es cuatribanda?” to offering to unlock Jon’s phone if we left it with them until Monday, when we hope to be on the road to Monterrey.  Mostly, though, the quad-band phones are exorbitantly expensive and the stores don’t know what to do with Jon’s phone -it’s a bit of an anomaly, apparently.  Our search for Mexican cell service will have to wait until Monterrey, next week.

Back at the Casa del Migrante for the evening, we played Dutch Blitz with some of the guys, which was a hit.  We started playing with two others and soon there was a crowd gathered around the game being played on the cement patio floor.  We were called away from the game to hear from a Nuevo Laredo Public Works officer looking for people to help clean the city the next day.  We signed up with at least a dozen others, and though we won’t be paid, we’ll get lunch, and hopefully be re-admitted at the Casa tomorrow night wih the signature of our supervisor and a description of the work we’ve done, as is required for all the migrants.

It’s time for lights out - 10:30.  En punto.

From Corpus Christi

February 13, 2009 | posted by Lars under united states, updates | Comments (8)

I drafted the first paragraph of a post on Tuesday; now, just three days later, it seems hard to finish these thoughts, and not only because of the Spanish keyboards.  I hope this can stand alone for now… more to come (tomorrow?)

I am writing now from Corpus Christi, a town bearing the name of the Body of Christ; simultaneously universal and historical, whole and bloodied, forceful and weak, it’s a body mysterious enough to make one wonder what the city’s founders were thinking when they settled and named the area in 1519.  Here we are, though, with over 1500 miles (2400 km) behind us and the U.S.-Mexican border at Laredo 150 miles (240 km) through the desert ahead.  Resting with the Iglesia Menonita Principe de Paz in Corpus Christi, we are preparing ourselves and our bikes for a new and demanding stage of the journey we began over a month ago.  We’ve been warming up our Spanish with our hosts here and in New Orleans, talking to folks here about recent violence between drug cartels and law enforcement near the border as well as construction of “The Wall” along the border from Laredo to Brownsville.  On Saturday, our hosts in Tivoli, Texas told stories of immigrants walking through their ranch after their coyote (people immigrants pay to get them across the border and who generally take advantage of the immigrants) dumped them on the state highway nearby; tomorrow, we will be biking through the very same desert which migrants are currently crossing by night during the “cool” winter in south Texas.  In Harrisonburg, VA, the realities of immigration seem very present, but here we have no choice but to engage the issue, with all of its personal and socio-political complexities.

 

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….

Lean on me

February 1, 2009 | posted by Lars under united states, updates | Comments (5)

Like half of the other sober tourists in New Orleans’ French Quarter, we were eating our obligatory beignets at the Café du Monde, only a levee away from the muddy Mississippi. We couldn’t see the levee, though; it was a breezy day with a bit of a chill, so heavy curtains had been rolled down to enclose the covered patio, with the exception of two panels, through which one of the districts many street performers sang.

Sometimes in our lives,
we all have pain, we all have sorrow;
but if we are wise,
we know that there’s always tomorrow.

Though it wasn’t evident from the historic district of New Orleans, the wounds of Hurricane Katrina still permeate the physical and social landscape of gulf regions of Mississippi and Louisiana.  Two days earlier, we had biked along the beachfront drive through Biloxi and Gulfport, Mississippi.  Battered live oaks and concrete slab foundations like tombstones lined the newly paved road; carpets and other debris still hung from trees as some odd memorial of the devastation.  Some of the huge oaks did not survive the storm, however; in many of these cases, new seedlings are growing, but in some places the trunks remain, carved into rooted public artwork.  Reflecting the gulf ecosystem and some image of freedom and liberation, most of these sculptures depict herons, eagles, and fish in sweeping, fluid motion.

Lean on me when you’re not strong,
I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on,
for it won’t be long,
till I’m gonna need somebody to lean on.

We stayed in Gulfport with Nelson & Pat Roth.  Soon after we arrived, Nelson, the pastor of Gulfhaven Mennonite Church, told us the story of how he and Pat camped out under a couch in their hallway during the worst 12 hours of Katrina’s wrath.  “No one was unaffected by the storm,” he said, recounting how one family at Gulfhaven unexpectedly got a beachfront lot when the 20 houses between them and the shore were wiped away, making them the second house from the beach.  Because of the income demographics and Mennonite Disaster Service policies at the time, afer the hurricanes, Nelson said they realized that “no one at the church was going to be helped by MDS … but people with $250,000 homes still needed a lot of help.”  So the church of 200 decided to get to work, repairing each others’ homes, as well as those within a 10 mile radius of their church building.  Now, Nelson says, there are folks at the church who say “a storm blew us in here, but no storm’s going to blow us out.”

Please swallow your pride,
if I have faith you need to borrow,
for no one can fill those of your needs
that you won’t let show.

This isn’t the case for everyone, though.  As Hurricane Gustav was building in the gulf, “the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife,” Nelson said, “people’s stress was so high.”  Nelson’s just in the past year begun to realize the “spiritual damage” that was done in 2005.  “I’ve had grown men, native Mississippians with families, tell me that if another hurricane comes through here like Katrina, they’re done - they’ll pack up and move.”  In response, Gulfhaven has given its pastor time to develop a non-profit called Relevant Ministries to provide intern staff for small gulf states congregations of all denominations and to give young adults a year of ministry experience in these congregations.  The project is very much in its infancy, but it’s one which both Nelson and Pat have a deep passion for.

You just call on your brother when you need a hand,
we all need somebody to lean on;
he just might have a problem that you’ll understand,
we all need somebody to lean on.

The road into New Orleans along US Route 90 bears the wounds of Katrina, but one can see that some healing is taking place; the scabs are forming, slowly.  Rows of piers still run into the bayou as memories of former docks and boats are grounded in the grasses by the roadside, but people are returning, building houses that are almost comical - raised 15-20+ feet above the ground and reinforced to withstand a bombing - or a hurricane.  It was because of a bridge under construction, in fact, that we took a detour through the village of Pearlington, Mississippi and happened by a group of conservative Mennonites from Alberta working on a house there with Mennonite Disaster Relief.

As we neared the city, a kingfisher flew with us for awhile before veering off into the lake; throughout the day we had seen countless egrets, herons and other birds we wished we could identify.  Mostly, we’d see them fishing, nattering about, or simply standing in the bayou, depending on the species; but sometimes they’d fly, too.