The Soloist

WARNING: SPOILER! If you haven't seen this movie and would like to do so without knowing how it turns out, read no further!

(Written February 3rd)

I went to see "The Soloist" (Robert Downey, Jr. and Jamie Foxx) inthe only theater it's playing at in Bogotá -- Cine Colombia de la Av. Chile.
It was good, but not quite what I expected. I guess I expected redemption, reconciliation, healing... on a grand scale.
I expected the neatly-tied bow, but what I got was life. Gritty, frustration, disappointing, entangling, obligating commitment to people... And the fact that we can't go in and do some "quick fix" -- erase the damage of disease and time and sin in the world, and then pull out unscathed.

At first, the reporter just needed a story, then he wanted to help the homeless guy and take away his problems -- "fix" him and his life. When he saw it wasn't happening, he wanted out, but it was too late -- he was already in too deep.
In the end, he "settles" for relationship: a slow redemption process, perhaps.

Before I left for the theater I was talking with a woman who is in Bogotá with a visiting YWAM team who has seen the movie and felt disappointed by it for the lack of hope, healing, redemption. It's true what she says, that Jesus could miraculously heal the schizophrenic man and redeem his soul AND his life. But that doesn't always happen. In fact, most of the time it doesn't. And we can lose faith, but we can also deal with it and grow in a slow healing and redemption.
If Nathaniel Ayers (homeless) had gotten on meds, off the street, all better, and become a star celloist, then Steve López (reporter) could've pulled out of the picture, self-content, and moved on with his life.
But we need each other, as frustrating and unproductive as it can be.

A quote from the movie, scribbled on the back of my ticket stub in the dark theater... it speaks what I often think, hope, and pray for the street people, addicts, and prostitutes that I see:
"I believe these children of God are gonna be okay tonight. They're gonna sleep and dream as humans do."

amazonas

10 February
On the Amazon River. It's beautiful, broad, cafe con leche brown, solitary. Its tree-lined banks are scattered with occasional huts on stilts.
On the far side is Perú!
Drifiting tree trunks, branches, an anachronistic styrofoam box from someone{s lunch, fishermen let us pass them by.

There is consistent cloud-cover over this, the lungs of the planet.
I am polluting her arteries.

I long for 'simpler' times, days of true adventure, when the carbon footprint wasn't as great, or as noticeable.
Yet, I know that I enjoy the convenience of my era. That, in former centuries, I would never be here, most likely never would've left North Carolina or my region, let alone my continent.

And the environmental impact is unavoidable. Every time I eat fish, I'm contributing to gasoline, exhaust, trash in our rivers, in the oceans, in the clouds. Anytime I go anywhere and I don't walk or ride a bike or an animal, anytime I turn on a light or a faucet, use my computer, grocery shop...

Neither do I want to live out my days farming in the middle of nowhere only using what I produce. (Although there is something appealing to me in the agricultural lifestyle)
But the fact of the matter is, our world is moving away from that. We're all migrating to megacities and then paying large sums to take eco-vacations out to virgin wilderness or to see the few brave souls who are still livingcloser to the earth than we can, but who, nevertheless, have gasoline generators to power their DirecTV, and dream of city vacations.

FALL

I have one "regular" week left here, then a week of travel with a couple friends, then a few days to get my things in order.

My emotions are so mixed I'm not even able to process them all completely.

Bibiana says that the process of the DTS starts before one goes, and I know that. I know that my recent (and coming) moments of revelation, of tears, of breaking truth, are leading up to the six months I'll spend focusing on God.

With so many questions I'm tempted to say "prove me wrong, God" but today, listening to a 100 Portraits & Waterdeep song, I softened a bit. If I want to be made new, if I want Him to make sense of the questions and the dreams and the realities --of the fact of "almost but not yet" which is the state of the Kingdom of Heaven on earth and of our new life in Christ-- then I have to be open to the work of the Spirit.

Will I let myself fall on the Rock and be broken, or will the Rock have to fall on top of me? If I LET myself fall, there's more chance of putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.*

"Since I am so sick, Since I am in need, Since I have no healing within me:
Oh, my God, be mindful of me...You are my help and my Redeemer.
Unto You, oh Lord, I lift up my soul, In Your loving-kindness I believe.
SURELY THOSE WHO WAIT ON YOU WILL NEVER BE ASHAMED;
ALL OF THOSE WHO FALL ON YOU WILL KNOW THE FAITHFULNESS OF YOUR NAME."
(album: Enter the Worship Circle/ song: Since I am so sick)


*Matthew 21:44
also interesting Matthew 21:28-30 ... which will I be? and you? and, are there only two options?

Funny

Funny things J. has said recently (translated to English):

While eating dinner, he asked, “When I finish can I play a little bit more?”
-No, because you need to get ready and go to bed.
-AGAIN?!

Last Sunday, I borrowed an outfit from Jessica, who is from Laguna Beach, California. The shirt and jean jacket were definitely my style, but I felt unsure about the white jeans (I don’t think I’ve worn colored jeans since fifth grade). I didn’t have anything else I wanted to wear, though, so I kept them on and we walked out the door.
J. saw them and said, “Emily those pants are funny. But only when you wear them.”
I laughed and told him I felt the same way!

Out of nowhere, he comes out with “OH MY GOODNESS!” in great English. We’ve definitely reached a critical point in the bilingual bridge. He repeats things we say all the time, and his pronunciation is pretty good.

Rain

It’s raining for the first time in two months; the kind of slow, steady rain that Mom likes, that the parched ground can actually soak up. I’m making brownies for I’s fourteenth birthday tomorrow and cookie bars for the day after that, when the whole ministry team will be up here at the farm for a workday. Beef stew is simmering for this evening’s meal. Bibiana is on her way back here after being in her home country of Venezuela for a week. Little J. is up the hill playing at another house. The girls here have finally finished their chores, which they started approximately five hours ago, so there’s no more fighting in the house and the peace seeps in around our roots.

Listening to a sermon today, Greg made reference to a time about two years ago when I and a couple of people at that church tried to start up a new ministry, and it flopped. Comparing that with this venture I’ve been on for a year, I can see what he means about God’s gifting and calling and equipping for his work to be done. When we were trying to reach out to the neighborhood around us, I remember feeling mostly frustrated and unsure. Here I feel that I flourish, even when I get aggravated with J. or other situations. A couple of sermons back in the series, he mentioned a missionary who said he knew for sure that God had called him to Uganda when the plane landed there, because keeping him from arriving was the final thing the Lord could’ve done to stop him. But, looking at Greg’s own experience in Uganda, where, as he puts it, he hid in the mud hut reading comic books to escape while his wife made friends with the village women, I think that the arrival is only one part. Flourishing or faltering demonstrates a lot about calling and capacitation.

I’m not saying that I’ve always felt like I’m thriving here. You just need to go back and read entries from March, April, May to see a glimpse of some difficult times I’ve been through. Confronting my dream with the reality of what it means to take care of neglected children in a family-style setting caused winds of doubt and disenchantment. But God knows when to send the rain; the confirmation, the salve to our wounded souls. My parent’s mid-year visit was a two-week long oasis. The early-December vacation with friends was another time to relax and soak up.

In Colombia, when it rains a lot of activities get cancelled. People stay home. They don’t go to their parties, don’t run their errands, they rest and wait.

In February I’m going home for a month, then I’ll head to Chile for my Discipleship Training School. My heart is divided: I want the time with God, the rest time to focus and fall in love with Him, time to hear his voice, to wait for confirmation and direction. But I ache for my foster son, worried that he won’t understand, that he’ll feel abandoned again, worried that I won’t be allowed to keep my promise to return to be with him. I’m jealous for all that will happen here while I’m gone and all that I’ll miss.

But I’m not God. The Lord is J’s father; it is the Lord who takes care of him, whether I get to be His hands or someone else here. And there is so much that I don’t understand, so if what I need is six months of resting, of focusing on God instead of pouring myself into these children, then I will go. I will wait out the long, steady shower.

note

A note on that last post: In a conversation with a friend, we realized that it turns out that struggle I referred to springs from a huge LIE that we both (all) believe too often. That is, "God doesn't bless me. God doesn't want to give me good things." The blessing or good thing we perceive him to be witholding depends, of course, on each person. It's the same thing as in the old Garden of Eden story: "Don't trust him, he's holding out on you!"

New?

New year, same old sin.

I woke up this morning struggling with something that I've dealt with my entire life, since preschool at least! You can change the calendar, but it doesn't change the paradigm we live in.
My journal entry this morning (not the first this year, since I also wrote last night before sleeping):



I realize that this is the same struggle I've had all my life.

I recognize that it exists because of sin; because I was created for intimacy with You but that got broken. That I'm supposed to find my worth and identity in you, but we've been separated and I consistently look to other things or people to define me.

I know these things, but it's still a fight I have to live.

Holy Spirit, come.
Lord Jesus, come.
Loving Father, come.



A Chris Tomlin song that encouraged me this morning, as I strummed my guitar and waited for the answer to that prayer of invitation:

Great is your faithfulness, oh God/ you wrestle with the sinner's heart/ you lead us in the song of our salvation/ and nothing can keep us apart.
So remember your people, remember your children, remember your promise, oh God...
Your grace is enough/ heaven reaching down to us/ your grace is enough for me.
Your grace is enough/ I'm covered in your love/ your grace is enough for me.