highlight reel.

this blog is not about the son who just entered the world and our family, but i certainly feel i should at least acknowledge his arrival. if you missed posts on other mediums, his name is shepherd henry and he was born at 2am on october 15. all birthing things went normally (a second vbac for stephanie), and steph would tell you the full story if you ask. let me say a big thank you to the family and friends who have been with us these first weeks with the new human, helping in many ways so that we can settle into the reality of a family of five. so while i will not go into detail, i will add that shepherd is wonderful and he fills me with a bizarre joy and it is great to see how the girls are enjoying his presence as well. there is still much to figure out in the changing family dynamics, but we are thankful for this new human. so here are some pictures and then the rest of the post.

a recent addition to my work here in ecuador has been the teaching of a community development class with living and learning international, a study abroad program and another part of the great youth world network. the semester just finished, and the students have taken the last couple of weeks to visit machu picchu in peru and the galapagos islands before having a beach retreat to debrief. yeah, i’m sure it’s all very difficult for them.

for the most part, the students have choices of what classes they take, from biology to social entrepreneurship. they all take spanish classes in addition to a few other required classes. and community development is one of those few. which means every wednesday morning at 8:30 i saw all 29 of them.

so this being the first class at a university level that i have taught, i took much of the summer to prepare, sorting through all the materials i have collected during my studies in glasgow and since, reorganizing my community development class notes with the el refugio interns, rereading when helping hurts, the main class text (which, if you haven’t already read it, is a fairly good introduction to community development themes in a christian context). i made powerpoints for the first time in a long while.

as i only had an hour each week to fill their minds with ten thousand complex topics, we were always late leaving class. often this was because i never wanted to cut short our class discussions. though from what i understand no one was too angry about this. i received a lot of positive feedback. but i attribute that mostly to how necessary and interesting the material was for students studying international relations, missions, business, etc. the themes and principles of community development can, i truly believe, be utilized to make better, more effective, and more humane work in any field.

and what, you may ask, are the themes and principles of community development that are so transformative? well, allow me to post below all of my class notes. just kidding. but i will describe that on which i base all my community development theory and practice: the Kingdom of God. this of course is an absurdly deep topic, but for much of my teaching it boils down to that idea that our desire to help others should reflect the works and words of Jesus, and any system or organization or program we implement should also reflect the works and words of Jesus. and if any of these elements do not look like Jesus, then we need to critically analyze it intensely. and maybe do away with it. with this in mind we talk about key characteristics of the Kingdom, as seen in the life and doings of Jesus Himself, such as: humility (see philippians 2), radical care for others (see matthew 25, luke 10), humanization and inclusion, or seeing the image of God in all people (see for example matthew 8, john 4, acts 10, luke 4, basically the entire sermon on the mount). a favorite quote is from the book cross-cultural servanthood, which you should all go and read immediately, which says: ‘God wants us to see His face when we look into the face of others…no one is insignificant, no one is worthless.’ see also mark 5 when Jesus makes the crowd stop and hear the ostracized woman’s ‘whole truth’ (i wrote earlier about this story here).

for all of this and more i believe that good community development is living out Kingdom principles in tangible, practical ways. and that followers of Jesus should be the best community developers.

but, of course, looking at our world, this is hardly the case. we see paternalistic international organizations and governments (and even churches) dictating a single path to so-called ‘development’ or ‘progress’, ignoring the dignity, identity, cultures, and general realities of the poor. and any amount of violence or environmental destruction is justified as long as the country’s gdp goes up. none of this looks like Jesus.

thus community development practice is based on relationships, avoiding the wielding of earthly power for the sake of solidarity with the poor, the outcasts, the oppressed (another Jesus example). compassion, a word often used in development circles, does not mean simple charity, but rather, literally, to ‘suffer with’ (from the latin). thus community development is more incredible and more loving and more radical that people often think. because when we base our work on the example of Jesus we will defy societal expectations and challenge structures that do not reflect the principles of the Kingdom of God. this may include some flipping of tables. am i teaching my students to become dangerous radicals? not really. i’m simply teaching them to take Jesus seriously and live accordingly.

the point, then, is not that we all have some interesting discussions in a classroom and think deeply about things, but that these ideas and themes can be actively applied into any context and that students should go and do so. much of this teaching comes honestly from my experiences working with the refugee community leaders in kiziba camp in rwanda. they showed me what was possible with no budget, few resources, but through conversations, relationships, time, dedication, and faith.

and these are all topics i am continuing to work through. last weekend i spent visiting a couple of our partner ministries, talking about the future and our work together. and constantly in my mind was just about everything i teach in classes and how to apply that knowledge. remembering all the while that the foundation is Jesus and relationships.

our last class saw the students presenting their research about a selected community and subsequent plans for potential community development initiatives. i was glad that the plans were necessarily open, vague, even, all the while acknowledging the dynamics of the relationships present, the silliness of outsiders making plans to ‘fix’ a community, the need for time and relationships, the critiques of ongoing government, church, organizational programs. i hope less that i have made them think more like me, but rather that they see Jesus more clearly. i hope that the Spirit continues to work in each of these students’ lives in ways that we often do not see or understand.

until the next semester.

diamond mine.

one of the first classes i taught with the north american interns (there were only two at the time) in the first months of this year (2021) was under the general heading ‘adventure theology’. as in, why outdoor ministry, why we do what we do at el refugio and beyond, how we experience God in creation, etc. and, joking around, we called the class ‘adventure time’. and when i came to the end of my prepared materials and we wanted to use class time to just go on hikes, we called it ‘time adventure’. and then when the group changed a bit (one intern left, another joined) we called it ‘danger time’, which was supposed to be regular hiking times to explore the hills and forests in the area. but we only got a couple hikes in, the summer being busier than expected and the plausibility of all of us escaping for half a day of adventure every week became unrealistic. still, it was nice to have at least the hope of focused outdoor times. and perhaps danger time was an apt name, as when i led two interns to the edge of a desert cliff which, we noted, standing on the edge, was actively crumbling into the canyon below. or when the camp dog followed us on another hike and was so tired at the end i thought for sure we’d be carrying the poor guy down the rest of the hill.

all this to say, a key part of my job this past year has been teaching, mentoring, and generally hanging out with the interns. for a bit of context, we have, at el refugio, various levels of internships. alturas is the spanish-speaking group, mainly with ecuadorians, though we have had students from other latin american countries (currently a few from costa rica and colombia). they stay for three months, live in community, work on the property, go on backpacking trips, climb mountains, take classes about spiritual formation, adventure theology, and, most recently, a class on community development, led by me in my fumbling spanish. but more on that later. another group is called basecamp, being more or less an english-speaking version of alturas: three months or so, classes, backpacking, work projects, etc. and then elevation, a longer-term experience (9-12 months) where the interns still do classes, but are seen more as members of staff. for basecamp and elevation i have taught classes on adventure theology, community development, missions and culture, and spiritual formation (in which we just worked through the gospel of mark; it was great). the ultimate vision of the internships is to give young people a chance to step out of their regular lives, engage in intentional work, community, and learning, paired with outdoor experiences, and see where God leads. and this thought brings me back to my days as a volunteer at camp firwood and how that set the trajectory of my life and why i am here in ecuador today. to be a part of a similar journey in the lives of others has been incredible.

additionally, it has been great to include these interns into the life of our family (and not just for the regular, free childcare). last-minute hikes, movie nights, shopping runs, random taco lunches, or ‘please-come-and-help-us-eat-all-these-vegetables-before-they-go-bad’ dinners. beyond the intentional, scheduled mentoring times, we know that simply sharing life together in a key part of any ministry.

and of course there are ups and downs. it is great to know that one intern will be back next year as a full-time staff member. and it was disheartening when one intern left a month early; partly because he destroyed his ankle and was generally incapacitated in a physical sense, and partly because of mental and emotional struggles that i was able to be with him through, but not able to fix. i try not to see that one as a defeat, as i know he has his own work to do and my job isn’t to fix anyone, really. still, it was a bummer to see him go. but soon after his departure an elevation intern left (it was the end of her time with us) and told me that my classes helped revitalize her faith. and that is certainly encouraging, though, again, i hope and realize, ultimately not my doing. and then there is our lone alturas of the summer, who, in our conversations about community development (i can hardly call two people chatting a ‘class’) has helped me immensely in preparing to teach the class to the next group of alturas in spanish. he joined my co-worker jessy and i on a recent trip back to cajabamba and added much to the experience.

and so we are a few weeks into the third group of alturas we have seen in our time here. and with a new weekly routine (we are driving into quito three days a week for ivy’s kindergarten) and preparations for the imminent arrival of the third child, we have seen much less of them. but there is time yet for these things, and i pray that, despite many necessities, we can use the time we have wisely.

shelter.

on my most recent visits to cajabamba, a town in the shadow of the great mountain chimborazo, i have been helping deliver food to the isolated, poor, elderly, and infirm in the surrounding communities. it is of course not the end goal of ministry, these food handouts, deliveries, but to further minister to people it helps if the people aren’t starving and have basic needs met. and this is a great way to get to know the people and the places.

our partner ministry in cajabamba is run by one family, a husband, a wife, their adult son. they are involved in more than thirty communities in the area, leading churches, supporting the poor, training leaders and pastors, feeding school children in the afternoons. they all grew up in these hills, speaking quichua before spanish; they know an incredible amount of people.

pastor manuel and his son marco help me load up the back of our x-trail with dozens of large shopping bags heaped with food: rice, flour, sugar, tuna, beans, pasta, oil, and more nonperishable necessities. we drive up and down the hills south of town, on dirt roads, on roads paved with patterned stone, we pass patchwork fields of quinoa and wheat in dark volcanic soils, rolling hills under rolling clouds, landscape that is – to me – intensely reminiscent of rwanda. we stop at houses here and there, step out of the car, get a bag or two ready while manuel calls out to anyone inside. marco gives me information in spanish on each family, or tells stories about when he was a child, before there was water piped to the homes, or about the first evangelical missionaries in the area.

at one house a handful of children greet us, watch the car with curiosity, and are given the hulking bag of food. as we drive away marco tells me their parents were both lost in a car accident mere months previously, and are now cared for by their grandparents.

an ancient woman at another home hobbles up to us, and when shown the bag of food weeps openly, insisting on hugging us all before dropping to her knees, head to the ground, praying loudly in thanks, and is eventually helped up by manuel and marco who seem uncomfortable with the display.

at another stop, marco carries the food bag around some hedges to a home half hidden, but the matriarch follows him to the car to thank us to our faces.

an old pastor (the first local pastor in the area, i am told, who performed manuel’s wedding ceremony) with failing sight and failing memory tells us we have literally kept him and his wife alive. he writes our names down so he can at least remember to pray for us.

but the basic need for food is an element of larger issues. these communities are what are left when the young see no hope and escape to the cities to try to find work. but they thus abandon parents who are aging rapidly in those cold hills, or children who have few if any educational opportunities. in a town of hundreds there are but a few children. so what do ministers of the church do with such a scattered, aging, impoverished population?

the overall goal for the ministry is to build up functional communities where young people are not driven to desperation and departure. marco, when studying in quito in previous years, saw the incredible amount of people from rural areas (including himself) who could have been contributing to their home communities. he experienced also the discrimination against the poor and the indigenous. he decided to return to cajabamba and help his parents change things. that was several years ago. and from providing teaching and social services out of their small apartment in cajabamba, they were eventually able to build a small house on a piece of property on the edge of town. and now they have a three story building that was built through donations and volunteer effort. (when i asked how they were able to construct such a large building with no budget, marco said he didn’t really know, that God did all of it.) there is still work to do, but the place is a functional center of ministry. they hold church services, provide meals for school kids, host pastor trainings, equip youth leaders. they have relationships with many other ministries and even a local university that allow them to hold classes for sewing, hair cutting, dentistry, and agricultural creativity. much of this has been put on hold during the pandemic, but these programs are beginning again.

on one of my trips, back in february, i spent the morning with manuel and marco, eating pancitos and hard-boiled eggs before my drive to visit another partner ministry. as we were talking, i told them a bit about my background, the things that brought me to international ministry and community development work (quick overview: it was mainly the gospels). and then i asked them, why do you do what you do? manuel thought for but a moment before launching into a description of matthew 25, where Jesus is praising the ones who fed the hungry, sheltered the stranger, clothed the naked, visited the sick or imprisoned, and these acts were done as if to Christ Himself. manuel asked, how can we claim to follow Christ and not do such things? as one who uses this passage when teaching community development, as it was instrumental in the development of my own ministry mind, i was greatly encouraged.

i look forward to the future ministry opportunities in cajabamba (and the surrounding areas) with this dedicated and dynamic family.

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city on the hill.

of course, upon hearing the name of the neighborhood sheikh jarrah in the news, i looked at a map. and realized that when steph and i were visiting a good friend in jerusalem after departing from rwanda we stayed in that very neighborhood. in news recently i have seen familiar street scenes.

sometime after that trip, back in the states, we attended a church where the pastor gushed about his own recent trip to israel, how exciting it all was seeing the ancient holy sites. but we felt that if a trip to israel doesn’t acknowledge the surrounding oppression of palestinians, then it is problematic. we saw those holy sites, too, but we could not gush about the excitement of those places only. because we learned that palestinian homes were demolished to make way for the pavilion before the western wall. because we visited a refugee camp in the west bank. we saw the stark, imposed difference in the standard of living between arab east jerusalem and the jewish west. we saw regular israeli citizens with assault rifles slung ominously across their backs in casual settings. we saw soldiers stroll down a crowded street, grab a palestinian man, and take him away while friends and family yelled after them. we walked through the humiliating checkpoint between jerusalem and bethlehem, a checkpoint thousands are forced to pass through every day. and on the palestinian side of that great wall there were written the words, ‘we are not allowed to live and so we wait to die.’ there are some who think the palestinians are not oppressed, that they do not lack essential freedoms, but i don’t believe words like that are written without oppression.

since that trip, over five years ago now, i have been reading regularly about the history of the region and the palestinian experience.

it is a layered and complicated history, certainly. and yet recently that complexity was narrowed down to specific actions. and bombing children and cutting off humanitarian aid is hardly complicated in a good/bad sense. it is bad. defense rhetoric does not justify war crimes.

now before i continue, let us keep in mind that critiques against the israeli government are not examples of anti-semitism. followers of Christ need to be very aware of the history of our religious roots in judaism and the growth of christian anti-semitism (a history well described in Christ actually by james carroll). and a government oppressing people it doesn’t want can hardly be said to be the whole truth of an entire religion and people. nor do these actions mean that all jews are bad. that’s terrible logic.

i support the existence of israel inasmuch as i support a safe place to live for every human. but i believe very strongly that such a safe place should not be brought about by violence, theft, and decades of oppression. one’s safety should not be brought about by removing safety for others. after describing the pain we saw in israel/palestine upon our return to the states, someone, a strong christian, said, with a shrug of their shoulders, ‘well, God wills it….’ i couldn’t believe what i was hearing, and yet i knew that that mentality was widespread in american christian society.

the Jesus i see in the gospels, however, our example of a life to lead (philippians 2), is someone who welcomes those whom mainstream society has deemed undesirable, unwanted (john 4, luke 19, john 8, matthew 8, matthew 25, mark 3, etc.); someone who expected better behavior from us toward our enemies than we expect from them (matthew 5); someone who demands righteousness on a level we cannot understand if we are only thinking within worldly systems (matthew 5, luke 10, matthew 25); someone who seeks to do what is right over what is societally accepted (mark 3, 4); someone who shows with every act in His life – and especially His death – that our God is not a God of the powerful and mighty and violent (Luke 2).

one of the guiding thoughts in my mind as i have done ministry work over these many years is the verse from the christmas carol ‘o holy night’: ‘truly He taught us to love one another/His law is love and His gospel is peace./Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother/and in His name all oppression shall cease.’

and in His name all oppression shall cease. i hold these words very closely with what they seem to stem from, Jesus’ reading from isaiah (Luke 4), proclaiming the nature of His ministry to be freedom on many levels. i cannot set these very strong themes aside when some people argue that israel has a right to do whatever it wants.

thus i cannot support the actions of israel, nor it’s power structures, nor its ideologies (nor the violence done against israelis). our support should be for people, not nations. nations are often built on ideologies that allow people to dehumanize others, to oppress others, to murder other humans, other souls bearing the image of God. this is not the way of Jesus. furthermore, to dehumanize others is to dehumanize oneself. to make others into monsters one must become a different kind of monster.

all this to say, i doubt very much that the God who commands us repeatedly throughout scripture to care for widows and orphans and the oppressed would like us to support the making of widows and orphans and oppression.

and so, for your own continued examinations, some book recommendations. if your reading time is limited, i suggest taking a look at the first three. for an accessible introduction into the pertinent themes, i suggest the graphic novels.

• faith in the face of empire by mitri raheb
• palestine speaks: narratives of life under occupation
• an army like no other: how the israel defense forces made a nation by haim bresheeth-zabner (free ebook here…at the time of writing)
• on palestine by noam chomsky and ilan pappé
• the iron cage: the story of the palestinian struggle for statehood by rashid khalidi
• the question of palestine by edward said
• we belong to the land: the story of a palestinian israeli who lives for peace and reconciliation by elias chacour and mary e. jensen
• jerusalem by guy delisle (graphic novel)
• palestine by joe sacco (graphic novel)
• the stories of ghassan kanafani
• the poems of mahmoud darwish
• nisanit by fadia faqir

appointments.

in a misty valley, a river winds through hills draped in deep jungle. between the water and the foliage clings the pueblito of rio negro. a short drive west of the town center stands casa tao, a three story building with an interesting past. once a pizza joint, then a night club with a seedy reputation, it stood empty and decaying for years until it became, through much prayer and physical labor, a home for single teenage mothers from jungle communities trying to find a better life for themselves and their children. this drastic change in purpose was brought about by an amazing ecuadorian woman, ana. a young single mother herself once, she long had the vision of opening such a space to help others find their way. thirty or so young women have found their way here in the last few years, and beyond, to a new life.

casa tao (which stands for transición a la autonomía y orientación [transition toward autonomy and direction]) currently houses six young mothers or soon-to-be mothers, who each have a room to themselves and their young ones, as well as a therapist and a social worker, and, in a separate apartment, ana’s son jorge, who, with his hefty dog, is the night guard.

in an apartment on the second floor that will soon be used to house the therapist and social worker, ana and i sat and talked, about life, our histories, our ministries. i was happy to spend this time, productive less in a programmatic way than in a relational way, which is the basis of any ministry, i believe. or, as our friend henry from kiziba refugee camp says, ‘development has to start in friendship.’

i had met ana previously, in november, when bossman jim and i took a tour of various partner ministries, introducing me as the new connection between them and el refugio. i was retracing parts of that earlier trip, visiting the dynamic ministry in cajabamba with pastor manuel and his son marco (more on them another time), and then casa tao. though my spanish is still far from perfect, it was tested on this trip and, in ways, proved. and so ana and i talked.

in our conversation, throughout which i asked a barrage of questions, ana shared her concerns about the future of casa tao. specifically, the government was, fairly reasonably, demanding that certain codes and structures be met in order for there to be home for teenagers. adding the therapist and social workers to the staff, for example, were necessary steps. and a bunch of improvements to the building. which were slow in coming. an american, john, did all the handy work, but could have used some help wrapping things up before government inspectors were to show up in late march. this meeting was in late february.

in my mind, in planning and thinking about how to teach our el refugio interns (at the time, six, from three countries), i had a tentative plan of bringing them all down to casa tao to learn about and from ana and the ministry. thus in ana’s list of worries my brain made a connection. i asked her if bringing interns would be feasible, to learn and to work, for a few days, to finish the construction projects, to make sure that the government requirements were met on time, so that casa tao could continue. of course she said yes, bring them as soon as possible.

thus, meetings were held, logistics were planned, and two weeks later we took the interns to rio negro for four days of work, in which the needed projects and more were completed, and much friendly time was spent with the girls and their children

but i was not there most of that time. i drove down earlier in my own car with two of the longer-term interns. elliot and bethany, so they could join me at a meeting with the leader of another partner ministry, hang out with ana, and prepare a place for the rest. the other four interns and their leader luis would join us that night. the next day, around lunch, i drove back to el refugio with elliot so he could continue leading a group of volunteers there.

but before our departure, after a breakfast of eggs, pancito, and yucca graciously prepared by the girls, we from el refugio gathered in that second story apartment to hear ana’s story and all about the ministry. ana speaks no english, so i began translating for the north american interns who, though knowing at least some spanish, needed a little help understanding the story. soon john came in and took over; having lived in guatemala for three years, he was a little faster on his translating toes than i. but, after a while, as ana described the hardships of the ministry, she teared up, saying that they struggle a lot sometimes, but all their sacrifices were for the good of those girls. there was a pause. i wondered why john wasn’t translating that last bit when i looked up to see tears in his eyes as well, and, trying to get the words past his emotions, he couldn’t speak. so i translated. ana and john are very different people with very different styles of working, and knowing that they butt heads sometimes, it was incredible to see them so captured and moved by the same thought. for all their differences, they have a similar heart for the ministry.

afterwards, when the tears were wiped away, the work began. john described the projects and the interns jumped right in. i watched them grab tools and begin at john’s direction and i knew they were going to have a great week. after the projects were underway, i realized i was no longer needed. i had made the connections i had hoped to make and could step out. elliot and i said our goodbyes and departed.

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  a misty morning from the top of casa tao

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  the casa tao christmas tree of values and hopes

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  i enjoy this area

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  after breakfast, the interns immediately started cleaning

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  down the valley, toward rio negro

a couple weeks later, in the community development class i hold with the four english-speaking interns, we discussed this trip. we were talking about how not to have a god complex when doing development/ministry work, how, in their specific context (and mine), not to be a ‘white savior’. the work trip to rio negro was the most typical mission trip kind of thing they’d done all the internship long, and we had some hesitation that it was the exactly right thing to do, given assessments of such work in books like when helping hurts and toxic charity, and another book i had been referencing much in class, cross-cultural servanthood. i recommend reading all of those, by the way. could we have done the work, completed the projects in a different way? probably. in community development theory, they say that the best work is done when different groups can collaborate to fill the gaps in another’s work, that a community developer will see these gaps across a range of circumstances and settings and make the connections. i see this trip as such a situation. their gap was timely work getting done, my gap was hands-on ministry and work experience for the interns. neither of us had money to spare. justifications aside, the trip happened, tasks were accomplished, things were learned.

i understand that a good community developer will ‘act, reflect, and refine their approach to do better.’* i am trying to do this. to such an end, in planning further trips, i am including the interns in the process, communicating closely with ministry leaders, to tailor the trips to specific needs/desires/assets, and what our interns can both learn and bring to the table. and we will examine and refine, for the next time. the process continues. and as we work, we pray our work does no harm.

*navigating community development by r.o. zdenek and d. walsh

masterworks.

the evening before a mountain hike with the el refugio interns, luis, a co-worker, and i hiked much of the way up the mountain we were to summit the following morning. for fun, and to acclimatize myself to the higher elevation. and when the light grew dim and we decided to return, he suggested we spend some time in silence and prayer before descending. alone, i realized how incredibly quiet it was at 13,000+ feet. as in, when people use the term ‘deafening silence’, it was weirdly true. no wind, no animal sounds, no human noises, no planes, only a vast emptiness that strangely filled my ears. and the pink glow of the sunset bathing the clouds. i don’t know the last time i had experienced such quiet, for even on other hikes to similar heights there was always wind or friends or the bubbling hiss of a volcanic cauldron. of course i think of elijah on the mountain and God being in the stillness, but i’m still not exactly sure what to think about that incredible silence other than simply enjoy its memory and share that with you. i am trying, in the midst of busy-ness and bustle, to hold on to that stillness, carry it with me, a reminder of some permeating peace, of His presence.


as much of my job currently is preparing for things – classes, leading interns, working with communities – i do a lot or research and reading. of course i am in no way angry about this. but the office gets stuffy (mentally, not temperaturely speaking; it’s very cold in there). and so i go on walks around the property, traversing miles of paths using peripheral vision as i read, stopping occasionally to take notes, jot down thoughts, etc. and occasionally my head is up, out of the book, and i observe, listen, think. i find myself thinking about future possibilities, things to build or improve, projects and programs that could be done in some possible future. i think about telling the director, jim, about these things, but hold off. for in our world today, i realize there may never be a future in which any of the normal activities of hacienda el refugio are ever again realized in the same way, let alone some new, half-baked idea i have.

our extended ecuador team recently had a virtual meeting with the president of our organization, which, though full of tales of struggle of this difficult year, was also, strangely, full of hope. as much in the wider realm of ministry has been ended or at least put on indefinite hold, much else has been able to grow. i shared the sentiment that it is hard to know how to progress when the future is so unsure. the point was made that some great ministries have been born out of adversity. when we are challenged beyond our comfortable ministry boxes, good things can happen. often we have a structure and a fairly clear destination, but the structure now is just continual creativity and a specific destination is unknown, beyond those grander goals that guide us.

as i ponder this all and my own role in making new things happen, coming into a ministry world hindered by social and safety restraints, i am reminded of the old community development adage that the process is as important as the product. and in Christ we are to remain faithful to the process, to the work of the Kingdom, to following Christ Himself. as the farmer ‘does not know how’ the seed grows, but grow it does (mark 4:26-29). i think of this also in terms of the adventure/experiential/outdoor ministry i am now a part of. the teams and camps and groups were all cancelled this summer, but that doesn’t mean nothing important happened in the lives of the ten interns we have been able to host this fall. on that before-mentioned hike to the summit of one of the lesser mountains with the interns, there were some difficult sections. and we put one foot in front of the other, guided each other over the tricky rocks. and we at times rested and talked and processed the experience, and at the very least shared something challenging together. the journey itself had meaning, and would still have had meaning even if a storm had swept in and denied us access to the summit. this is being faithful to the process, to the call, no matter what happens. for truly much ministry has been hobbled by the pandemic, but that doesn’t mean we stop thinking, trying, going somewhere. all that to say, it was very encouraging to hear from all the other ministry members in ecuador and how their ministries continue to grow and adapt.

thus we wait, true (hopefully) to a process, to the overarching goals of the Kingdom, to loving as He loved us, to following Christ, and to pointing others to Him. and if we cannot realize the grand designs for which we had hoped, let us remain faithful in doing small things with great love, and to know that, whatever happens, He is with us.

let me let you use my power

walking around san jose in those last weeks, i found myself looking at rental and for sale properties, imagining life there long term. i did this also in glasgow at the end, i realize. maybe this is part of my process of leaving, purposely saying goodbye to what could be. as we packed, we juggled the desires to visit with friends for the last times, the increasingly erratic behavior of the children (they knew change was coming), selling, giving things away, thinking over what to keep and how to pack months of life into a handful of suitcases. it was hard to leave costa rica, the places and the friends, and all will be missed. and in a flurry of emotional activity we left behind yet another season in another country, entering immediately into the dull drudgery of airplane travel, the conduit of a new existence.

and so life in ecuador begins. the crisp mountain air and the dry season dust the background to our settling. we spent our first days staying in a cabin on the el refugio grounds, planning for our life in our future home, just down the road from the camp, then under some needed repairs, or, let’s say, improvements (new paint, replacing aged carpet with wood floors, etc.), and needing to be fully stocked with appliances, furniture, and all the little things. i think fondly of the frying pans and other kitchen implements we acquired in costa rica that we managed to tuck away into our suitcases; a few less things to buy now. we alternated days at the camp, talking logistics and playing with the girls, and days in quito (a forty or so minute drive through beautiful mountain valleys) placing orders with furniture makers and price comparing washing machines. yay. and from time to time we had long conversations with our friends and co-workers, about the intricacies of life here, sharing stories and histories, each question or thought leading to more. within our first week we attended the team’s first in-person meeting (with masks and distancing) since the start of the quarantine, which formally brought us into the team and in which we used our fumbling but knowledgeable spanish to introduce ourselves (though we knew most everybody already).

the general policy in joining the team here is a month (give or take) for getting settled. and with an empty house to furnish and a car to find and visas to apply for, that makes sense. but others on the team have been asking when i may be ready to talk about my eventual work. and i, as we inch through the list of necessities, am ready, and that process is beginning. for the last year and a half i have been busy with support raising and learning spanish but overall my schedule has been fairly lax. which has given me a gracious amount of time with family. but as we are here now, and i feel ready to begin.

and so i am processing the work that is so close now, not a theoretical future away, but tangible weeks. i am thus recognizing the need for extended learning and time to grow into the ecuadorian context, to see my eventual role in a new light, a clearer, contextual light. and, in a very necessary way, to remember the reasons for which we have come here. for though i have been hired to do specific tasks, fill specific roles, i do not seek to simply overtly apply years of study and experience into a new context. so, really, i suppose i am not ready so much to begin such tasks as i am ready to begin to learn how to do such tasks — as we continue to grow our knowledge of the language, to grow our knowledge of the people, and may all the ideas i have continuously swirling around in my head be used and applied only through deep understanding and communication. i pray for the wisdom to, in all i do here and beyond, be a true servant.

and with that thought, here are some pictures.

always on fire.

below i will highlight some of my topical readings during this summer of unrest. my hope is to share a glimpse into my own continual educative process with you all, as well as encourage you in your own learning and growing. and this in the hope that we can all understand how to live in this world together a little better, understanding better the heart of Christ and how to emulate that in our broken world. if we are truly to love God and those around us, i believe we need a constant, life-long process of learning.

thus, from the below readings and more and my time in the bible, there has been an overarching theme guiding my thoughts recently. namely, when the voices of the oppressed cry out in rage, who are we, the mostly comfortable, to say they are not actually oppressed? should we not listen? i think of mark chapter 5, when Jesus is summoned to heal the daughter of a synagogue leader and an ailing woman reaches out to touch His robes to be healed. and in that incredible, miraculous moment, Jesus stops the procession, stops the crowd, and brings the focus on to the woman. He shunned the disciples’ hurry and, the text says, stayed to hear the woman’s ‘whole truth’. this probably wasn’t a thirty second overview, but a long description of twelve years of suffering. her whole truth. and the crowd was forced to listen. and in this act Jesus told them all, here is the woman deemed unclean who is now clean; you have all been guilty of ostracizing her and now she will be welcomed back into your communities. i see strong parallels in this story with america today. people of color in america have been oppressed. this is historical and present fact that i will not allow to be argued over or pooh-poohed. they are crying for justice. let us hear the whole truth.

the rundown of books:

–the cross and the lynching three by james cone: often more of a history of lynching in america than a theological treatise, this book is heavy. yet cone shows the ways that, while black americans processed their position in society through writing, music, and rebellion, the white american church turned away from the stark reality of extrajudicial killings of black people for decades that went wildly unpunished. even great theologians didn’t think open gang murder of black people was a serious problem. yet in the figure of the lynched black body cone sees the figure of our Christ, killed by absurd violence. there are deep theological implications here, for our country and for our own souls.

–so you want to talk about race by ijeoma oluo: this was honestly one of my recent favorites. the author breaks down giant social concepts and history into such wonderfully indicative stories and vignettes that, though the subject matter was often harsh, this book was a joy to read. if you need a place to start in all this and aren’t afraid of a few curse words thrown in, this would be a great book for a down to earth overview of the issues.

–why i’m no longer talking to white people about race by renni eddo-lodge: though she brings a british view on racial issues, much parallels and can be applied to situations in america today. the author gives an overview of the racial history of britain and describes the frustrations of being black in a society geared towards whiteness.

–white fragility by robin diangelo: ok so this one is much maligned nowadays, and while i agree with the detractors, there are some good ideas to digest for us white people. if you find yourself defensive about all the race talk in the nation or ruffled at being called a racist for that one joke or comment, or are just a white person who hasn’t really had to think much about race, then this book can help you unpack that. but, as many people of color are pointing out, all this can be learned from people of color and it is very important that white people learn from people of color. so read this book and then go read the above two books and others (check the previous blog post for further recommendations).

–the color of compromise: the truth about the american church’s complicity in racism by jamal tisby: the title and subtitle here certainly say a lot about the scope of the book. much of modern church history in america (and elsewhere) has been characterized by widespread attempts to maintain the ‘status quo’. as in, the traditional norms of society are how things should be, and, sure, they’re not perfect, but we can’t change things too fast. such was the sentiment of the pastors who wrote to martin luther king, jr. while he was in the birmingham jail, suggesting that he leave town so that they could settle racial problems their own way. king’s response was brilliant and essentially held little hope for the white church in america when it came to true justice and actually being like Jesus. the example we have in Jesus is one that pushes against ‘tradition’ and ‘the ways things have always been’, pushing us towards a closer life with God (see His many encounters with the religious leaders for a plethora of examples). if you find yourself curious about this history, or feeling shame over what you already know, or if you are grumbling about all the protests, please read this book.

–the origins of totalitarianism by hannah arendt: whatever your political stance, i suggest you take in this sharp analysis of culture and politics in the western world. several decades old, the work is dated in a number of ways (still using the term ‘savages’ to describe non-western peoples? really?), but her description of the undermining of political and democratic power for the sake of ‘national’ goals and identities is something we can all learn from. i walked away from this book haunted. there is way too much in america these days that smacks a lot of russia and germany in the 1930s. i’m not saying we’re doomed (yet), but that we all need to be very aware of what happened then and what is happening now. and i would doubt very much that Jesus would want us to disregard the image of God in others for the sake of some idea of what a man-made nation is; such as the nazis removing the jews as being good for the german people and thus the right thing to do. (and if you believe that america hasn’t or doesn’t do that kind of stuff, please take a good look at native american reservations and the southern border.)

–go, went, gone by jenny erpenbeck: speaking of humanization of others outside one’s own national boundaries, here’s a wonderful little novel about a german man coming to know and befriend refugees. the book shares refugee stories as well as detailing the mental and emotional processes of the man, his new friends, and the society around them. if you want to know what it is like to work with refugees in such settings (as in, what life and ministry where like for us recently in glasgow), this is a great read. i had a lot of nostalgic emotions. but read it to understand more of a reality of millions in our broken world and your possible role in the alleviation of those terrible situations.

–the dispossessed: a story of asylum and the us-mexican border and beyond by john washington: and speaking of refugee issues, holy cats this one was heavy but necessary. the author mixes history and tales of his own journeys along the migrant routes of central america, weaving them into the narrative of one salvadoran man’s many attempts to enter and stay in the united states. the author gives a sense of the prevalent threat of violence that force many to flee and the dehumanizing absurdities that await them along the southern u.s. border. whether you agree with america’s heavy-handed crackdown on the border or not, these stories need to be absorbed and acknowledged.

–the very good gospel by lisa sharon harper: and then there’s this book. i had such joy during it’s entire duration. it was incredible that one could speak of the brutal realities of our history and our present and yet still instill such deep hope. often focusing on the early stories of genesis, this book is all about the redemption God is working into being and our role in that work, the reflection of this godly work in the things we believe, the actions we take. and how do we realize the great shalom, the peace of God, in our lives and world today. such a challenging and beautiful work, it was a breath of fresh air.

–the myth of the american dream by d.l. mayfield: a reflection on culture and religion, mayfield examines the beliefs about what america is versus the realities of those for whom the ‘american dream’ doesn’t quite work: the immigrants, refugees, the poor. as in, someone in china has more of a chance of rising out of poverty than someone in the states. ‘people that love God can also love systems of death’, she states. so what does it mean to follow Jesus when the surrounding culture claims Jesus while ignoring His actual words? we need to listen to the people at the margins and understand the bad to move towards something better. with personal stories and societal critiques, this book is concise and thought-provoking.

–the violence of love by oscar romero: salvadoran archbishop oscar romero was shot by government assassins in 1980 while he held the eucharist before his congregation. for years previous he had spoken truth to the corrupt and violent powers of his country, had empowered the poor to embrace the mission of Christ and also to refuse to accept the rampant dehumanization from their own government. for such truth-bringing he was labeled a subversive, a communist, a radical, and murdered. but his words, thankfully, live on, and show us how to embody the mission of Jesus in a violent and broken world.

–tear gas by anna feigenbaum: a short history of the uses of weaponized gas from the battlefields of world war one to the streets of today, and very interesting. i include it here for the analysis of the police use of gas around the world, the regulations around its use, and the industry that profits from the suppression of citizens doing what governments allow them to do on paper (and for more on the global industry of borders and crowd control, check out todd miller’s empire of borders). there are even resources for those protesters out there to track where and who the tear gas used against you came from, so you can then track how such companies are linked to your politicians. fun!

–the end of policing by alex s. vitale: i mentioned this book in an instagram post when the protests were really picking up in june. many are advocating for the complete removal (or at least wide dismantling of) police departments across the nation. this book details the history of the police in america (yes, originally started as slave catchers and such), and their gross abuse of power over the decades. the police, in short, have ever been the tools of those in power. and when police officers flood the streets in wars on drugs and the like, the crime rates skyrocket. but when social services are made widely available in every neighborhood, crime rates decrease because the reasons for crime are addressed. this is the world the author points to, one where police are not necessary and our communities are treated with holistic care rather than contempt. yes, this advocates a drastic restructuring of the societies many of us have grown comfortable with, but doesn’t such a vision of empathy and community development look like what the church should be?

i hope that you seek some of these books out and read them. many are free on library borrowing apps like hoopla (my favorite). if you have little time for more reading, i will simply say that listening to audio books while doing the dishes is truly a game-changer. if you have thoughts, suggestions, critiques, or questions, please do not hesitate to reach out. i’m still reading and adding to this list, so let me know what you have been reading, too. have fun learning and growing. peace to you all.

 

killing in the name.

from our central american idyll we have watched the news pouring from the united states and are increasingly disturbed. more state violence, more unnecessary death. and now every scroll through social media has the potential to bring me to tears. tears of frustration, rage, hopelessness, weariness. there are so many amazing thoughts and heartbreaking stories being shared. i’ve started listening to christmas music again, which is a sign i’m emotionally overwhelmed.

yet this mix of emotions is not my own, but touches on the realities of entire communities across the states and beyond for many, many years. we again see more layers of injustice and discontent exposed, another opportunity for drastically expanded learning. we have another chance, tragic as the circumstances are, to reexamine the country on a number of levels and to hope that the future can be better. thus i have been pondering much lately the nature of our home country.

this process has been augmented by the reading of the charles dickens novel martin chuzzlewit. by sending his main character to the young american states, dickens was able to share with his readers his impressions of that country based on his own travels there. and what he said over a century and a half ago rings depressingly true today. dickens paints a dreary picture of people blind to the humanity in others, an entire society based on the accumulation of wealth, where property holds more value than human life. and: ‘Thus the stars wink upon the bloody stripes; and Liberty pulls down her cap upon her eyes, and owns Oppression in its vilest aspect, for her sister.’

as the characters mark and martin finally leave america to return to england (the critique of which i will reserve for another day), mark wonders how, if he were a painter, he might paint the ‘American Eagle’. he says:

“I should want to draw it [the symbol of America] like a Bat, for its short-sightedness; like a Bantam, for its bragging; like a Magpie, for its honesty; like a Peacock, for its vanity; like an Ostrich, for its putting its head in the mud, and thinking nobody sees it–‘

to which his friend adds:

‘And like a Phoenix, for its power of springing from the ashes of its faults and vices, and soaring up anew into the sky!’ said Martin. ‘Well, Mark. Let us hope so!'”

and yet, i do not feel inclined to agree with martin’s hopeful assessment.

maybe it is my own version of some lingering white saviorism (which i am actively trying to unlearn) that i feel able to insert myself into the social issues of other countries while i throw up my hands at such issues in my own country. but nothing makes me feel more exasperated or hopeless as thinking about trying to help america live up to the ideology that ‘all [humans] are created equal’ and that governments have an imperative to uphold systems that treat its citizens in such a way as to reflect that stated equality.

let’s remember that the unites states was born of violent revolution. and land theft. and slavery (which is a theft on many levels). ingrained in the formation of the country was widespread dehumanization. this dehumanization has been present throughout u.s. history, an initial characteristic, perhaps, due to its growth out of the devastating ages of exploration and colonization, and the bigotries of europe. but this justifies nothing, for the dehumanization has continued to today.

and do we think the people protesting in the city streets, after centuries of exploitation and legislated discrimination, have any less reason to be angry about their situations than a handful of landowners 250 years ago who were angry about taxes and not being allowed to steal more land? if you know your history, none of what is happening now should surprise you. not the brutality, not the murders, not the reactions. these struggles are in the very blood of the country.

and so in my despair i have no expectation that america will ever be any better than it has ever been. namely, a discriminatory, greedy, violent mockery of all the ideals it claims to uphold.

and yet.

and yet. i know my hope is not in a system of government or a delineated geographical space, but rather in Jesus Christ. and thus i feel the need to act. though i hardly know what this action should be, not actually being in the country in question, beyond sharing, learning, pointing to other speakers, etc. i know that we are called to love without exception, to look out for the forgotten and dehumanized, following Christ’s example in seeing the image of God in all. such actions are hardly simple or easy, and certainly protracted. yet what i glean from Jesus’ teachings is not that everything needs to drastically change on our watch, but rather that we are to remain faithful to the work no matter what. i have had a lot of hopeless seasons in a lot of different ministries and every new day i needed to choose faithfulness to His example over the expectation of change.

while discussing these things, steph encouraged me to pray actively for opportunities to truly act on this faithfulness, whatever that may look like from day to day, in this new context. and i ask you to join me in this prayer. i suppose we should also pray that we are ready when we have the chance to live out what we believe.

and so, in hope that my pessimistic assessment is not ultimately true, that real change can indeed happen, and that education is one step in this process, i offer you all a reading list. because one of the encouraging things in this time are the many voices sharing resources for learning and advocacy. as one who has been stewing on these sweeping issues in america for the last decade, i am glad that so many are showing so much interest. though i am also still learning continually.

i hope and pray that we can all be more present in acknowledging and dismantling injustice. and let us not simply rest passively on the accepted way of things, but rather seek to be actively thoughtful people. let us radically humanize those around us and those far from us, those of every skin color and background, those who break things wantonly during peaceful protests, those who chose to remain silent, and yes, even those who use or advocate violence against brothers and sisters, even the corrupt and openly discriminatory, and those who have corrupted justice. in our rage against oppression, let us not become oppressors. and let us remember that those doing the oppressing are operating from a dehumanized space as they dehumanize others, and thus need love as well.

such work will certainly not be comfortable, but i believe Jesus desires nothing less.

stamped from the beginning by ibram x. kendi
the condemnation of blackness by khalil gibran muhammad
darkwater by w.e.b. du bois
the history of white people by nell irvin painter
the fire next time by james bladwin
between the world and me by ta-nehisi coates
freedom is a constant struggle by angela y. davis
Jesus and the disinherited by howard thurman
slavery’s capitalism edited by sven beckert and seth rockman
the half has never been told by edward e. baptist
coming of age in mississippi by anne moody
the autobiography of malcolm x as told to alex haley
the accident of color by daniel brook
black against empire by joshua bloom
race, religion, and resilience in the neoliberal age by cedric c. johnson

and of course there is a wealth of other writers i would suggest, such as zora neale hurston, maya angelou, toni morrison, bell hooks, ralph ellison, langston hughes, sojourner truth, frederick douglass, colson whitehead, lisa s. harper, and gosh gee there are just a ton of others. now let us all learn and listen and grow. let us become martin’s vision of the phoenix.

everything now.

halfway through our first trimester of language school, as schedules and friendships were being solidified, i began to compile thoughts and accounts of our daily lives. but because daily existence can be somewhat boring, and it seems now somewhat superfluous, i offer here a short(ish) version of what was once our reality.

i wake up early, at 5am, to read my bible and other religiously inclined books, and at some point in this process everyone else will awake. we make coffee, have our bowls of cereal, pack lunches, get dressed, load up our packs, and after seven we are out the door. our two-block walk to school generally coincides with those of friends’ and their families near the local park, so we greet and chat and walk together. after dropping the girls off at the preschool/daycare area in the greater language school compound, steph and i head to our first class, which is language. we learn and practice with new vocabulary and hold fumbling conversations (but actual conversations!) completely in spanish. and that’s two hours. there is an hour break where we do our homework, study, run errands, and twice a week attend the chapel held for and by the language students. we have both led worship at times. class two is grammar which is, with great classmates and a great teacher, a lot of fun. a little after noon school is over, we pick up iona and go have lunch, often inviting a friend over. in the afternoons we study, play in the park, pick up ivy at 2:30, visit, and do all the little things that make up a life. we go to bed earlier than we used to, contentedly worn from a day of entertaining kids, social interactions, and using our brains in new ways.

dropping the girls off at school.

our class area; steph chats during a break.

giant waterfalls in the nearby hills? yes, thank you.

the walk to school.

the usual sunrise.

the first hike, looking back down upon san jose.

and of course our postcard wall is back in action.

these girls eat a lot of watermelon.

raising readers, i guess.

iona’s really using those legs lately.

when the leaf cutter ants you grew up seeing on the discovery channel are in the local park.

been working on my pancake game.

getting to all local parks is a faorite afternoon/weekend activity

drawing, also.

this routine blends into the strange but welcome opportunities for travel. weekends have allowed us to see more of the city and of this beautiful little country. for example, the other week, after weather changed plans, we were offered spots on a day trip to jaco, the closest coastal town. the beach was nice; the sunburns were not.

the beachy part of the beach.

iona enjoyed the sand.

another recent outing took me and some fellow dads and their sons to tapanti national park. such an incredible little place and it reminded me so much, oddly enough, of many other outings, and i felt when in that new place a sense of familiar peace. i thought of creek walking around lake whatcom with my good friend tyrell; of rock-hopping along the chuckanut coast with keaton; of walking mountain access roads with both of them; of counting the many types of ferns in nyguwe rain forest in rwanda with dear friends anna and travis. and it ended up being more of an adventure than planned, what with no cell service, a several-mile walk outside of the park, a ride with friendly canadians, and an uber driver who got us around a road closed by an accident on forest routes, valiantly crossing a river in his wee car. a great day.

and now all of the burgeoning normality has been incredibly disrupted. as i’m sure you all well know. in the last few weeks, each day brought news of another little shock to society as we know it. plans for a memorial service in california were cancelled and we switched our flights to miami, the cheapest exchange, in the need of renewing our visas. in that ocean-side sprawl we saw the tangible fear in the empty shelves, stores devoid of toilet paper, baby wipes, any sanitizing product, any frozen food. we enjoyed our time as we could. we returned to costa rica and entered what felt like a different world. schools and borders closed, friends returning to the states, the local parks taped off. and so here we are, waiting in semi-isolation and hoping like everyone these next weeks to see if we have that sickness hidden in us now, if we brought anything with us, if we passed anything unwittingly on to others. it is a bizarre time, not without its element of trepidation, not without the doomsday scenarios of the book station eleven buzzing in my mind, and all this with the boredom of expectation, waiting. yet we are active. in addition to meeting online in our classes, we have our daughters with us. so we are students and teachers. we are trying to be intentional and creative with our time, making new routines, finding joy in being a family. steph and ivy bake something new every day. i take iona on a walk through near-abandoned neighborhoods. we’ve gathered a hopefully more-than sufficient amount of food. we exist.

during this unprecedented time, many are encouraging us to remember the most vulnerable, the least, the poor, the communities in which we serve. i feel these encouragements, and, like many i am sure, i am wondering just how we are to be good neighbors in a world where we can’t (or at least really shouldn’t) physically be neighbors. the internet is great, yes, but what do we actually do? some are saying loving your neighbors these days is staying home. so we’re staying in touch with those around us and those in the states. we are praying for and supporting those in our wider network as we are able.

and we stand on the street outside our friends’ house to have a somewhat restriction-acceptable hang-out. we take the girls to run around in the field adjacent the closed playground for a few minutes. staying home is a luxury, i realize, that much of the world doesn’t share. a friend who lives in china recently posted a picture of the authorities opening up their neighborhood playground. on the day they taped up our playgrounds, this was a good thing to see. yet i can’t stop thinking about the vulnerability of our refugee friends around the world, of the potential disaster if this virus finds its ways to the structural poverty of the camps. i am torn between hope and something else.

another day.