A Heart-tree

This morning I prayed in what felt like a very long time.  Not that I haven’t prayed recently!  No, what I mean is a time set aside for nothing but prayer, a time dedicated to a true deep conversation between me and God.  Not one that existed only as a short prayer in my mind, not a mental chit-chat with the Almighty, not a series of “text messages” sent up to Him to give him a few updates on my life.  No, this one was deeper and more powerful for me not only because it was very intentional but also for the very fact that I spoke to him.

There’s something powerful behind saying things out loud.  Confessing them with my mind and heart seems easier somehow than confessing with my lips.  Unfortunately, it’s also less impactful.  Praying audibly worked a strange magic over me this morning.  I was reminded of the power words can have when God spoke creation into existence (Genesis 1), when Jesus tells us by our words we will be judged (Matthew 12: 33-37), when Paul encourages us to not only believe in our hearts but to also confess aloud our faith as believers (Romans 10: 8-10), when we are warned of the destructive power the tongue can have (James 3: 1-18), and when God promised that in the end all tongues will confess that Jesus is Lord of all (Philippians 2).  Yes, it’s a bit awkward at first, speaking to thin air and hearing only your voice in this conversation.  But a few moments later and the awkwardness fades away into something much more beautiful: a heartfelt confession to the One my heart knows is with me always.  Within His presence, there is no shame, no doubt, no fear.  It’s just a daughter speaking with her Father in a long overdue conversation.

And so we talked. And talked.  And talked.

At some point during my prayer, I was praying for someone dear to me and asking for God to send this person a rather large hug.  Not just any hug, I’m talking a massive bear-hug that won’t let you go no matter how hard you try.  I asked God not just to show this person His love, but to drown them in it.  Ok, a bit strong of a metaphor but I sincerely meant it.  Why?  I admitted to God that I felt like this person’s heart was hardened and would need something powerful to make it feel again.  I then said that this person’s heart wasn’t like Pharaoh’s heart—it wasn’t like stone.  No, it was more like the bark of a tree—hard on the outside to protect the softness within.

The very interesting spiked Ceiba tree
found here in Central America

What a beautiful picture that is.  A heart like a tree’s bark. 

The more I thought about this metaphor, the more I liked it.  A heart like a tree.  I then realized that I didn’t want this person to lose their bark of protection—they very much needed it.  Instead, I prayed for this person’s bark to be strong against the evils of this world, keeping out things like malice, greed, apathy, and envy.  And then I prayed for God to make this person’s roots of their heart-tree grow strong and deep, to drink up the nutrients of God’s blessings and to be strengthened by things like joy, patience, mercy, and love.  Love like a bear hug.  I prayed for their heart to have strong bark, but soft roots. 

A heart-tree.

What does your heart-tree look like? 

Stay tuned!

The Wheels on the Bus

A large percentage of my life here in Nicaragua consists of riding public transportation: taxis, bikes, buses, trucks, tricículos, mototaxis—you name it, I’ve been on it.  Today was no exception.  Today, I spent a whopping 4 hours on the bus transiting between León and Managua.  Since public transportation is still a rare thing in the United States, I thought I’d share with you a little bit of what it’s like to experience such an adventure. 

Hello, my name is: BUS.  You’ve probably seen someone like me in your neighborhood, filled with schoolchildren on the way to class.  In your mind, picture this beautiful yellow school bus.  Now, add 20 years—enough age so that there are rust spots and torn cushions and maybe a tiny hole in the floor or two.  Now add a few repairs and some updates to give me some new life: paint me with bright colors (some that clash a bit too), add a decal of a Christian blessing or of Jesus or a rosary, throw in some colorful streamers, a luggage rack on top and inside, and don’t forget some new speakers.  Yes, do you see it now?  That’s me :)

Now these buses are the cheaper way to travel throughout the country: my total trip today cost me 80 córdobas (just under $3).  These buses are fondly known around the globe as “chicken buses”—which is quite the misnomer here as I’ve only seen a total of two chickens ever while riding on the bus.  Mainly, these buses are crammed to the brim with all sorts of cargo (humans, baskets, produce, tires, furniture, etc.).  These buses are not the fastest mode of transportation as they tend stop every little bit or so to let anyone on and anyone off.  If you want to hop on the bus, just stick out your hand to wave it down.  If you want off the bus, just whistle loudly or yell at the driver.  High-pitched whistles mean both stop and go here.  When people are getting off, you’ll hear several men yelling, “Suave! Suave!” telling the bus driver to “hang on just a sec” and then when everyone’s set to go either you’ll hear a high pitched whistle or someone will yell, “Jale!”  It’s a very sophisticated system. 

The bus driver today,
surrounded by some lovely streamers

Now mind you, these buses were built to hold around 60 small schoolchildren.  At its fullest, I bet these buses hold double that of adults.  It’s tight.  The seats each carry two or three people.  The aisle is packed two-by-two.  Sprinkle in some people every so often who hop on to sell home-cooked goodies or something to drink (very handy if you’re suddenly craving something).  Wind ever blowing in your face, Spanish pop music blaring from the speakers, and people pressing in on you from every side, these long bus rides are the perfect place to catch a nap.  Every time I’m on the bus now, I am either taking a nap or trying very very hard not to fall asleep.  Instead of narcolepsy, I must have a bad case of buscolepsy…  When you need to get off, well, you need to wiggle and squeeze your way through this human barrier to either exit out the front door or the back door (aka the emergency hatch).  The emergency hatch is sometimes the easier way to go as more people crowd in the front.  Then again, you have to yell or whistle much louder from the back to indicate to the driver that you would like to get off as soon as possible. 

Every single time, it’s an adventure.  You’re never quite sure if the bus you’re riding will break down along the way.  You’re ever so pleased when you don’t have to run to catch the bus, but you’re even more impressed with your athletic ability when you do.  Every time you exit the bus it’s a miraculous event—how could that many people fit in there and how in the world did I manage to squeeze my way out??` And at the end of the day, you’ve saved so much money by cramming into various modes of public transportation that you can treat yourself to a nice ice cream cone :)  Like this one:

Stay tuned!

Waiting in Hope

A week ago today I was sitting in Honduras, staring into the flames of a bonfire on a mountainside just outside of the capital of Tegucigalpa.  My senses were drinking in the beauty around me, savoring the smells of burning wood and pine trees, reveling in the goosebumps on my arms from the chill of the air and the heat of the fire.  Surrounding me was the cheerful company of a mixed sort: missionaries from World Renew and Christian Reformed World Missions, volunteers from the Cohort program, friends from the organization AJS (Association for a more Just Society), and children of the aforementioned persons.  Finding myself momentarily lacking conversation partners, my attention was quickly absorbed by the fire before me, as a moth to the flame.  Many a thought flitted across my mind, there for a second and gone the next.  One, however, kept popping to the surface: hope.

I have been gnawing on this subject for the past couple of months, trying to grasp what that abstract word really means.  Hope.  When you think of it, what comes to mind?  For me, for some reason the color blue comes to mind.  Blue is peaceful, calm, centered.  To me, that’s what hope is like.  I’m sure some of Obama’s campaigns have also influenced my thought associations :)  But obviously hope is bigger than a color, much much bigger.  What do you think of when I say the word hope?  Even more, what gives you hope?

Visiting with the Cohort missioners
in Mangulile, Honduras

In Honduras, I asked my group of Cohort missioners the very same question: what is hope?  In the everyday trenches of life, what are the things that give you hope?  I wasn’t interested in hearing the Sunday School response of “God”—I wanted something more tangible than that.  Yes, God gives us hope—but how?  The responses I heard that evening were each unique and equally profound.  One friend brought up Psalm 77 and how, by it, he is reminded to be hopeful by remembering the past and seeing the places where God’s hand has been.  Look back—where do you see God’s presence in your story?  What miracles has he shown you?  What strength of faith and character has he given you in difficult moments?  Remember that and hope.  Another friend said that while being hopeful ever looks to the future (to restoration and shalom), it can also be seen in the little things right here and now.  Seeing the bright eyes of a newborn baby, observing a moment of kindness or humility from an unexpected person or place, seeing something beautiful in a place where no beauty should be found, praising God in worship with brothers and sisters from around the world—these are the moments where hope can be seen most visible.  These are the moments where hope manifests so obviously you just want to reach out and touch it.

After hearing these wonderful responses, a thought of my own jumped into my mind.  The word for “hope” in Spanish is esperanza.  This word derives from the word esperar which has two connotations: “to hope” and “to wait”.  The Spanish language does not differentiate between the two, but in English we do.  Never before had I ever intentionally connected the words “to wait” and “to hope” together in English, but now I was curious.  Today I stumbled upon a very popular verse in the Bible: Isaiah 40:31.  And guess what?  The NIV version says “those who hope in the Lord” and the KJV says “those who wait upon the Lord”.  Could the two words be more connected than I thought?  Could there be hope in the waiting?  This brings to mind my blog post from a few weeks back (“The Ache of Rain”) in which I explored the intensity of waiting.  Looking at my examples, I realize something now that I didn’t see before: there was Hope in the wait Sarah and Abraham endured; there was Hope in the 40 years in the wilderness; there is Hope in the return of our Lord and Savior. 

In the spirit of 1 Corinthians 13, I’d like to share my own version for Hope: “Hope is patient, hope is kind.  It does not give up, it does not despair, it is not weak.  It looks to the past, it embraces the moment, and it believes in the future.  Hope does not delight in misery, but rejoices in the truth.  It always expects, always trusts, always persists, always endures.”

Stay tuned!