Sorry, kid

Right ho, Jeeves!

What's in a name?

Polvo

I'm in a desert. I should understand this. But I've been here in Lima almost three months now, and I still go to bed every night abhoring the fact that my feet are SO DIRTY! You can't walk from your bed to the bathroom without your soles turning black. I have a separate washcloth in the shower right now for my feet. That's disgusting.

Thanks Lisa

It's 6:17. I'm supposed to be going with Patti to her church in 40 minutes and I'm still at Andrew's doing nothing on his computer. I wish I could say that I'm really excited about going, meeting new people, worshiping and fellowshiping with other believers, practicing my Spanish, bla bla bla. But I'm not.

What is it about meeting new people, or even being around people who you aren't totally comfortable with? Why do I feel so drained? So uncomfortable? So guilty? Why is it so natural to smile and pretend I'm at ease? Yuck.

Nonetheless, I'm going. Guess I better go and shower, eh?

Consider It All Joy

On my day off, Andrew and I were discussing how blessed we really are here in Lima...

Oh, and whoever decided not to put a book of G.K. Chesterton's in my hands until now - shame on you! (Thanks, Josh!)

Ronal

He's the reason I was a bit discouraged in my last post.  Ronal has hydrocephaly and also had meningitis as a baby.  Since they don't know how to treat it here, he was left with serious mental disabilities and doesn't have use of his legs or one of his arms.  But what's worse is that another reason (perhaps the main reason) that Ronal cannot walk or control his bladder or behave well or speak well is that his parents do not help him.  His father hates him.  He treats him like an animal.  His mother cares, but, with working all day at the market, is still incredibly negligent.  Since coming to the Huaycan project in December, Ronal has learned to color in the lines, do puzzles on his own, not to hit, to say "si, hermana" when I ask him to do something, and is working on telling us when he needs to go to the bathroom. 

I was thinking of him when I was disgusted with myself and the Church concerning how we treat the helpless and poor.  I'm not telling you about Ronal to try to manipulate you into feeling bad enough to send money, or to even throw up a prayer for him.  You don't even have to remember Ronal after you read this.  The point is that Ronal is just one case.  Here in Peru, in Lima, in Huaycan, at our church.  And without us, no one would cherish his life, provide for him, teach him or delight in him.  Terry Schiavo is just like Ronal.  Only no one - except me, and now you - will know about him, or even care.  But we're supposed to.  I wonder where the Ronals are in Norman.  Is it Mrs. Churchill, the woman RUF helped last semester?  Or is it a young boy who isn't being fed?  Or a single mother who is alone and vulnerable?  Or is it the visitor in the back row of Christ the King?  It's weird to think that I'm called to share in so intimate a way my time, gifts, resources and love - with strangers and with people so uncomfortably different than me. 

 

Helpless

Do any of us really care about God's Word or His Truth? Because I'm convinced I don't. How many laws has God given concerning the helpless? Those people who are widowed, orphans or poor? He warns Israel not to forget these people. David desired to be a king who truly obeyed this law. Psalm 72 says of the righteous king: "For he will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help. He will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death. He will rescue them from oppression and violence, for precious is their blood in his sight."

My main task here in Lima is to help the children's program in Huayan, a city just north of here and said to be one of the poorest in the region. I believe it. When I go, I help feed them, I tell them of the hope of Christ, I teach them to read. But when I leave, they are out of my head. Forgotten. And they probably will be forgotten after I leave. What a wicked person I am. Do I fulfill the law of God to remember the helpless by coming here to South America to help them? Not at all. I lack compassion and true love.

What's worse, I don't even think of this law in the states. What of the helpless and needy in Norman? The ones that by default I am called to remember daily? God requires me to care for them, love them, to share His generosity with them. I don't.

I realize that the Terry Schiavo case is disgusting. It seems that her life was neither cherished nor protected. But as I'm here, in another world, surrounded by people who desperately need their life to be protected and cherished and preserved, I'm reminded of the fact that we really don't care. We care about Terry. But God's law required Israel to help the helpless among them. I hope I learn to love enough to consider them precious in my sight.