Indigenous Inspiration

Yesterday I visited an indigenous community about an hour and half outside of Asuncion, the capital city of Paraguay. It was my favorite experience I've had while being abroad thus far, and also the experience that has affected me the most personally.

My program has been on a field trip in Paraguay for four days now, and at the beginning I was feeling very uncomfortable. This is the capital city of a country, so it's the best they have to offer. Yet it is still very poor. There are tons of people sleeping in the streets and begging for food and money, lots of starving animals running around, and not many people who are dressed professionally like they have well-paying jobs (this is not a judgement, just an observation). I think because I am used to traveling with the intent of serving in impoverished areas, I am hyper-sensitive to things like this. It made me uncomfortable that our group of 18 students and 3 leaders would pass a young woman sleeping in the same spot on the street every day, and just keep walking without a word like it was nothing. I was internally confused because I couldn't justify being here to learn and have fun, things that are self-serving, while there are so many people who don't even have their basic needs met all around me. I didn't understand what I was supposed to be getting out of the experience, until we visited the indigenous village.

As we got off the bus, the kids from the village surrounded in a pack to giggle and point at us. They followed us as we made our way to their school to hear from the leader of the community, a woman, and three teachers, all men. Everything had to be translated to us because they don't speak Spanish, only two indigenous languages Qom and Guarani. They explained to us the basic struggles of their community, which have a lot to do with the government in Paraguay. Very basically, the rights to land are very unfair. This makes the distribution of land, and therefore wealth, extremely skewed throughout the country. Because there is no land they are permitted to farm on, the indigenous people cannot be self sustaining. The whole process makes it impossible for them to ever have the upper hand.

That being said, their main struggle is unemployment. The men who can find jobs mainly do construction work. Many of the women make various weaving to sell, or work as housekeepers for wealthier people outside of the village. However, working as a housekeeper comes with the risk of of getting caught in human trafficking. On top of all this, there is also the matter of language. Paraguay is a Spanish-speaking nation, but these people only know their indigenous languages.  Once I began to realize how isolated these people are in society, I fired off questions to the members speaking to us. Do the kids learn spanish in school? How hard is it to learn the native languages? Are there translations of the bible in the native languages? Are there ways to produce job opportunities while also preserving the unique culture of the community? I had to choke back tears when I got the answers.

The school is funded by a presbyterian pastor from Korea. The money he sends buys some school supplies and food for students during the school week, but not enough to meet the need that exists. The school is technically a christian school, but I'm not sure to what extent. The kids go to a chapel-type gathering on Wednesdays, but I also heard mention of native religions. Translations of the Bible in either Qom or Guarani do not exist at all, so the Bibles they have are in Spanish. The children don't really learn Spanish in school. Until a certain age their classes are all in their native dialects. The intent is that the older grades will begin to learn spanish, but teachers who know both languages are scarce. The kids may learn some Spanish during their time in school, but not enough to communicate, much less read a Bible. None of the kids I tried to interact with understood Spanish. And the reality is, most of the children will not finish school anyway.

Studies have shown that the average amount of time a person in an indigenous community attends school is 2 years. Out of 140 families in this particular community, only 25 have completed high school. Within the community, the highest level of education offered is only the second year of high school. Only 3 have ever attended college. Most of the children will not complete their schooling, because their families will need them to work to contribute to the family income. The leader of the community said she left school when she was twelve to go and do domestic work outside of the village.

To watch the kids running around outside, so innocent and care-free, yet knowing that life will never be on their side, broke my heart. I look at their smiles and I want to give them the world. I wish there was a button I could press to make it all okay for them. I would press it and they would all have closed-toe shoes for running around among tall weeds. They would all have education and opportunities to advance in life and do whatever they're passionate about. They would have meat and vegetables and fruits sufficient for three meals a day. But as much as I wish there were an easy fix for poverty, there just isn't. I can't just fix it.

But I can try anyway. As broken hearted as I was seeing the hopelessness of their situation, it set a fire inside of me to make the world different for them. Because Jesus exists, there is no such thing as hopelessness. I've been struggling while being abroad, because it's hard for me to study the development of countries apart from God's desire for the nations. I know that a country can be as successful and rich as it wants, but still be spiritually impoverished. Of course I want to see people have their needs met, and live in free societies with just governments. But what I want more is that they know who their savior is, so that even if they don't have all those things, they will look forward to eternity with their eyes set on Jesus, knowing that eternal life with him will be so much better than life on this depraved planet.

Visiting the indigenous community was a divine blessing. It reminded me why I am so passionate about different cultures and global development in the first place. When I saw real people with names and families and real struggles, I knew that my experiences here have a purpose beyond lectures and readings. The world that allows these people to experience the oppression described in this blog post is not the world I want to live in. And while I know I can't just fix it all, I will spend my life trying to fix it a little.

Bienvenida!

I have been in Buenos Aires for about two weeks now, and it's awesome. This city has so much history, with monuments and beautiful architecture everywhere you turn, but at the same time it's very alive with unique bars, stores, coffee shops, and restaurants. I am loving every second (well… almost) of life here.

The main struggle I've had has not been the spanish, surprisingly. It has been the transportation. I like to joke with my friends from South Carolina that I know what city life is because I'm from Knoxville and they are from small towns. But in THIS city, I am completely out of my element. Knoxville may be big-ish, but I can still drive everywhere I need to go. Figuring out the subway and the bus system may be the death of me. Hopefully by the time I leave in June I will be able to get on a bus in the right place, and get off in the right place. Hopefully. Just to put this in perspective, Spartanburg has approximately 38,000 people. Knoxville has approximately 183,000. And Buenos Aires… 3 million. Living in a city this big also means getting used to the noise, at all hours of the day. I sleep with earplugs because there are train tracks directly next to my apartment building. If the train doesn't wake me up, speeding motorcycles or screaming people or barking dogs or a car alarm will.

A story about one of the many time's I've been lost in Buenos Aires: It was the first day of actual class, and I was determined to get back home on my own. My host mom accompanied me to school that morning to teach me the route, and I stubbornly denied her company returning at the end of the day. I'm twenty years old, I don't need to be walked to and from school. Wrong. I got off the bus three stops too early and wandered around for about 15 minutes before I took out my map and found a policeman. I then managed to get to the correct street, but couldn't remember what my apartment building looked like. I called my host mom and she had to come find me. I was beyond frustrated with myself, but this is the spirit of discovering a new place! I'm learning to have fun with my mess-ups, and also that being twenty years old does not make you above being walked to school.

Speaking of my host mom, my host family is the best. Mario and Maria Luz are an older couple who have three grown kids and several grandkids. They are incredibly sweet and accommodating. My first weekend here they took me around the neighborhood and showed me all the things I could ever want or need that are within walking distance of our apartment. Maria Luz has toast and coffee waiting on me every morning, and also an apple for me to take to school in case I get hungry. She is also my secretary (her words, not mine), and knows my class schedule better than I. She cooks things for dinner she knows I like, and gives me ice cream for dessert. She also insists that I talk to my real mom to tell her that I am eating and sleeping and doing fine. Mario always starts very profound conversations with me at dinner. At first it was intimidating, but having these long conversations has already significantly helped the fluency and vocabulary of my spanish. We talk about politics, religion, family, education- anything and everything. It fascinates me to hear about these things from his point of view, through the lens of his culture. He also loves to read, so he looked up everything there is to know about Tennessee before I came. He asks me about the weather, the economy, and the famous people born there. It makes me feel special that he cared enough to read up on where I'm from. He has also traveled to many places in the US for his job, and gladly informed me that he prefers the cities in the south.

When I'm not with my host family, I'm with the other students in my program. There are about twenty of us from all over the United States, and I enjoy every single one of them. It's refreshing to spend time with people who think about the world like I do, and who also love the adventure of figuring out a new culture. A typical lunch conversation among us would be a very deep commentary and analysis of the topic we learned about in class that day. I love it.

The first week was definitely hard, and emotions were high at times. But I'm feeling more like myself than I have in a long time, because I'm doing what I am most passionate about. I was made to travel, and I was made with the desire to learn about different people and places. People who love sports can practice anytime they want. People who love to draw can pull out a paper and pencil. But people who love to travel have it hard. Buying a plane ticket and leaving your job and family are not as convenient. So right now I am very content as I settle into the Buenos Aires life, public busses and all.

Warrior

Yesterday on my way to church I was listening to an old Caedmon's Call CD (A Call to Worship, check it out. The music is dated but God's praises are never out of style), and one of the songs says: The Lord is a warrior, the Lord is mighty in battle. I pondered that characteristic of the Lord for a good 20 minutes until I got to church and forgot about it.

Later last night, I watched the The Bible show that has recently aired on the History Channel. It was the first episode which starts in the beginning of the Old Testament, and I followed along in the Bible just to be sure I wasn't watching a bunch of crap. I only got through Abraham sending Hagar and Ishmael away before I went to bed. Inspired by the Old Testament, I just really wanted to read about David. I've always liked David's story, because it is truly encouraging how poorly he made decisions yet how highly God regarded him. But for whatever reason the Spirit in me just had the strongest desire to read specifically about David before I went to sleep. So I grabbed my bible and opened to 1 Samuel, quickly getting to the story with Goliath. I read through it and a little passage reminded me about what I had been thinking about earlier in the morning.

1 Samuel 17:45-47
David said to the Phillistine, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will hand you over to me, and I'll strike you down and cut off your head. Today I will give the carcasses of the Phillistine army to the birds of the air and the beasts of  the earth, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give all of you into our hands.

I just smiled after I read that, because I delight in God as a warrior. I love that the battle is the Lord's. I love that I serve a God so victorious in all He does. I love that His victories proclaim "there is God in Israel." It fills me with so much joy to think about the battles we see on Earth, and to know they are already conquered! Sex trafficking- conquered. Children who live in poverty and without parents- conquered. Communist countries who hate Jesus and persecute accordingly- guess what? The body of Christ is already there spreading His name; they can't keep us out. Conquered! Satan and the demons, conquered! And of course, the most important victory of all- Christ's victory over sin. The victory that allows me to share in God's endless victories forever. I am just so overjoyed.

I've always wanted to be a woman after God's own heart, like David. But now I also desire to live a life that proclaims "there is a God, the battles are His, and He is going to win." May God's victories in my life make is so.

Tragedy

Ever since my youngest brother was able to understand the concept of Santa, he has been the official "waker-upper" on Christmas morning. He goes running through the house at some ridiculously early hour of the morning, yelling about presents and banging open doors. After hearing about the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I thought about what Christmas would be like if my family didn't have my youngest brother around, who is in 5th grade this year. Even though sleeping in might be a little nice on Christmas morning, our 10 year family tradition would be ruined. The day would not be the same from the very beginning if my little brother did not wake everyone up. It is deeply saddening that several families had a ruined Christmas this year, because they were missing a son, a daughter, a brother, a sister. It is a tragedy.

But the truth is, child tragedy happens every day. And who mourns for those children? Who sends flowers, who sends up nice thoughts, who prays? Who mourns for the children that lose a mother to AIDS, never had a father, and are now roaming streets just trying to find food? Who mourns for the baby girls lying in cribs all day in an orphanage because their parents didn't think they could bring any honor to their family? Who mourns for the children being eaten alive by worms? Who mourns for the children that die a slow death to Malaria? Who mourns for the children that are given alcohol at night so they can sleep without the pains of hunger?  Who mourns for the children that are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and die by our very hand, by our own war? No one. No one mourns for those children. No one cries for them.

This is real life; those children exist. It isn't a dramatized story meant to guilt trip you into giving money. It isn't a wise tale from a far off country. It is reality. So the question I ask myself once I am truly able to wrap my mind around this truth, is what do I do? What do you do? What do we do?

El Shaddai

My small group is currently going through Beth Moore's "Living Beyond Yourself" bible study, about the fruits of the Spirit. This week discusses kindness/ goodness, and day one is specified to God's kindness as a father. This day is mostly directed towards moms, using the story of Abraham and Hagar to show God's compassion towards the suffering mother and Ishmael, her son. But when the story comes to the part where Hagar leaves Ishmael because she can't bear to see him die, Beth takes a turn from the expected theme and says this:

"If you have a child who is rejected by his peers, God knows how you feel. If you have a child who is not beautiful to look upon, He knows how you feel. If you have a child who has been betrayed by her friends, He knows how you feel. If you have a child who has begged you to 'fix' something you could not fix, He knows how you feel. If you have a child who is suffering, he knows how you feel. If you have a child who is dying, He knows how you feel. If you have buried a child, He knows how you feel. He's been there, too. However, there is one big difference. He could have changed every bit of it. But He didn't. For you and for me."

I'm not even a parent, but that touched me. So many times I seperate God from my hurt, because I have the image in my head of an untouchable God who knows no grief. This, of course, is completely wrong. Jesus hung dying on a cross, screaming to his dad to "fix" it all, and God turned his face away. He turned his face away from a perfect Son so that we could also be his children. This role of God is the one I overlook the most, since I have a tangible dad on Earth. But God's paternal love for us is the reason he can be a part of our lives at all. He loves us so deeply- as our dad.

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

That's Bruno Mars's song. I just wanted this blog to have a catchy title because it's all about marriage! Now obviously I don't know ANYTHING about marriage, since I am 17 and still in high school. But somewhere near the end of my freshman year I decided I was going to start writing letters to my husband. In all honestly, this idea was probably inspired by The Notebook, and how Noah wrote Allie 365 letters. It's kindof a ridiculous idea, but I personally feel like it is the sweetest thing ever :) I have three in the collection so far, and I pretty much just wanted to share some major things I've learned through the process.

The second letter I wrote to my husband was the product of a pretty big fight my parents had. Since it was their fight and I'm sure they don't want the whole world to know, I'm not going to share details. It turned into a family ordeal, though, and there were definitely tears shed. As I was reflecting over it that night in bed, my little girl fairytale fantasy fell apart. So I started a new letter and wrote this:

"I just wanted to share this because we have to realize our marriage isn't always going to be good and happy. There's going to be times that are really hard. There's going to be sin in the midst of it too. I know that sometimes we're going to cry, curse, and have hatred in our hearts towards one another. But who else would I want to do that with?"

Married people all over are reading this thinking "well DUH," but to a girl who has dreamt of her wedding since age 8, this was a huge realization. After the vows, the cake, and all the "fun" you can possibly have on your honeymoon, you have to go back to real life. And real life isn't always cuddling and kissing and whatever else girls day dream about. I especially like the part I wrote about sin. Both parties of a marriage are sinful people, and you have to deal with that together. Why don't artists ever write songs about THAT?

Another thing I have realized is that my idealized view of marriage is so completely selfish. I once had a small group leader that said "I wake up every day and think of ways to serve my husband." Marriage is not for anybody but God. People who go into it selfishly thinking their spouse is going to fulfill them or complete them are probably so dissatisfied. I mean, I wouldn't want to wake up everyday thinking "Oh my gosh. I have to fulfill my husband today." Talk about pressure.

So. Now you know all kinds of marital wisdom from a 17 year old who writes letters to a person she may or may not even know!

Tell Me Once Again...

Tonight Andrew Peterson and several of his fellow musician friends performed at my church as part of their anual "Behold The Lamb of God" Christmas tour. Before they actually got into the 45 minute long continual Christmas set, they all shared two songs from their normal albums. One artist, Jason Gray, played a song called "Remind Me Who I Am." I have heard it a few times on the radio, but for some reason the truth of it did not sink in until tonight.

This school year has been... tolling. Besides the normal stress that comes with honors and AP classes, I have let myself make decisions that put me directly on the path of destruction. The consequences have been varying, but with the same underlying theme: hurt. Completely disregarding the Bible's wisdom about guarding your heart (Proverbs 4:23), I basically bound myself in rope and sat down on the train tracks. Needless to say, life has been depressing lately. Usually I think of myself as a very strong person, being able to deal with things on my own and overcome the greatest of obstacles. Recently, however, I have realized that I'm not strong at all. I wallow in the hurt, because it is easier to find than the joy. That's not strength.

Getting back to the song, the lyrics that really spoke to me tonight are as following:
When I lose my way and I forget my name (Beloved), remind me who I am.
In the mirror all I see is who I don't want to be, remind me who I am.
In the lonliest places when I can't remember what grace is...
Tell me once again, who I am to you.
Tell me lest I forget, who I am to you.

When Jason started singing that song tonight, I realized that it's okay to be down, and it's okay to have struggles- that's just life. When the insecurity and doubt creeps in, Christ reminds us that we are his BELOVED. There's a method to the madness. Whether it is a lesson learned, or a battle for his glory, the hurt is for a greater good (Romans 8:28). To me, there is joy in that knowledge. And already He's taught me about His sufficiency through all of this. He is everything that humanity cannot be for us. Whatever standards or expectations we have of people that they cannot meet (which is all of them- we're broken people), He will meet 1000 times over again. He is perfection. Praise Adonai.