this is not a dream

As you can imagine, being in Mexico (or any foreign place) provides a number of different feelings and emotions. I've had this really surreal experience quite a few times when I actually stop and think, "I am in Mexico" which is usually followed by sincere thankfulness for where I am and what I am doing. Today was one of those times. My good friend/special friend (not exactly sure what to call her at this point) Silvia and I went to the market this morning. We took the bus, which went the long way today, through the really ancient city that I live in, Cholula. I couldn't help but bask in the sun and the experience of driving down a dirt road which included basic housing, random horses, a field of wild yellow flowers, and cows (which Silvia is absolutely in love with). When we got to the market it was my time to really observe, so I watched Silvia buy her groceries for the next few hours. Please note the difference between market (which is the open-air place with fresh stuff and indigenous people) and supermarket (which would be Wal-Mart). So, I watched Silvia buy Papaya, Cactus, Cilantro, Avocado, and a bunch of other fresh foods. We walked by raw hanging meet, dead, skinned chickens with their heads hanging over the counter, and candy skulls made for "day of the dead." It was great. If you enjoy people watching (or even just observing for that matter), the experience is intensified like 20 times when you are in a different country.

After the market, we made our way to the supermarket, which consisted of taking a bus back to the school and then walking to the "bodega." The scenary of the walk was basically wasteland with views of poverty and bridges and restaurants. I know that I've said this before, but today was another time when redemption in the face of poverty was very real to me. I woke up realizing that I was in a foreign country and was amazed by the things I observed. There is a certain contentment that comes with being with someone you care about and observing created things. There is the fall, but there is also redemption. Redemption was real to me today. I pray that I might believe and enjoy it more every day.

the Laotian mission and the Gospel...

As many of you know, during my senior year in high school I had the amazing experience of helping out at the Laotian Baptist Church in Spartanburg down near the Deaf and Blind School. To say the least, it was a season of change, and to really be honest, it changed my life forever. And I´m not saying that lightly. I fell in love with the kids, and with Mrs. Tucker, and with Linda who helped there too. Well, there was a pretty big falling out between Mrs. Tucker (the director) and the Baptist network and she ended up leaving. Ever since, the Laotian mission has basically been treading water and, from a heart standpoint (as far as I can judge the heart), is pretty much dead. That leads us to the problem.
One of my good friends Gary (who just happens to be Laotian) and I have both worked at the mission and, if you know either of us, you know that we are both reformed. What does that mean? Well, basically, it means that we trust that salvation is from God from first to last. If that is too vague, I would love to talk with you about the matter. Well, the new guy who works at the mission is named Leroy. I'm going to try and be loving towards him, but I must admit that I struggle to love the guy because of his actions at the mission. He is your typical hyper-conservative Southern Baptist minister. What this means is that every sermon or talk with the kids about the gospel centers, and sometimes only consists of, "you need to ask Jesus into your life." Gary and I, being reformed, have a huge problem with this. We believe it is much more biblical to preach Christ, preach his glory and his attributes and his salvation, which is completely about him bringing His people through life from choosing to glorification, even when they are whores. If you don't believe me, read the Old Testament. I've just recently realized that it is a story with that being the storyline.
Anyway, the Laotian mission is dying at the hands of a weak gospel and Gary and I, but mostly Gary as he still lives in Sprtnbrg, must stand by and watch. Gary has shared many times with me how much he longs for the kids to hear the gospel of a loving God who brings prostitutes from their whoredom and loves them, really loves them (read Jeremiah if you don't believe me on that one). So, Gary just emailed me saying that Leroy basically preached a sermon at Gary, and not to the kids, this past Sunday. In Gary's words, here's what happened, "He [Leroy] said some people ask Jesus into their heads but not into their hearts. He also said some people think that they understand the Bible but they don't. We may never understand the Bible, he says. Basically, he [Leroy] says theology is irrelevant." And here is Gary´s answer to that thinking, "Its sounds very disturbing, I know. We're not going anywhere if we won't come to a conclusion of what the gospel really is. I believe that it's the gospel of grace. " Man, I couldn't agree more. We must not stand for the belief that the study of God is not important. A concrete prayer prayed after a preacher never saved anybody, it was God softening their hearts. I really hope that this is the gospel that will be preached from our churches (and Laotian missions). That God comes to sinners when they have been beaten and left for dead, when they are at emnity with Him, and transforms their standing and lives. If you were "saved" by saying the sinner's prayer or by catechism class and have really been brought from death to life I pray that you will realize that you were saved by grace. Even when you labeled it something else (as I did in the past), it was God taking your cause in hand and promising to carry you through. I pray that the Laotian kids will know this truth. Please pray for them too. In love, Jared.

Things I love about Mexico...

I must say, when I hear other people from the study abroad program here talk about how they don't like studying here because it's no France or Spain or whatever, it makes me quite mad. The fact is, I love this country, and here are some reasons why:

The mornings-I love walking out of the gate of my house in the morning. The alley I live in forms a tunnel into the light. So, I ride my bike over the cobblestone street into the warm of the morning sunshine. It's really great. Then, I turn onto the main road which basically looks like the Mexican road you would picture if someone told you to think about a Mexican road. It's really simple and beautiful. There are taco stands, stray dogs, pollution-making cars (i know because it kills my lungs as I ride my bike), women walking with babies strapped to their backs with really indigenous looking blankets, children in school uniforms, and two of the most beautiful (ok and only) volcanos I've ever seen. That's why I like the mornings.

The women-If you know me, there need not be an explaination here. I walk around my campus every day and think about how beautiful the "chavas" are here.

Public Transportation-I take the bus almost every day here. Two days a week I ride it an hour into Puebla and an hour back for community service. I have learned to love people watching and just being amongst other Mexicans. Sometimes it's really hot and sometimes I have to stand up for almost 45 minutes of the ride, but other than that, it's really special. I'm gonna miss it. Why doesn't America have better public transportation?

Tacos-I was never a huge taco fan before coming here, but I have to say, I have been converted from my evil ways. These tacos are made from meet sliced off of a warm rotating masterpiece of beef and there is always spicy salsa and lime available for my tasting pleasure. Hmmm.

Surprise...

Things I didn't expect to be popular in Mexico that are:

• The faux (pronounced "fo") hawk
• the three wheeled bicycle-these things are amazing, two wheels in front with a big bucket for carrying stuff and one wheel in the back
• The Nightmare Before Christmas (who would have thought? but the merchandise is everywhere)
• Kneck braces (people drive crazy here and it shows!)
• The fact that nobody has change. Sometimes I need to pay for something that costs 30 pesos with 50 pesos and a store won't have change (note-that's like paying 5 american dollars and needing to receive 2 dollars back). This is a serious problem!
• The fact that everybody smokes. It's like I'm in Europe or something.
• The fact that the majority of people at my university speak at least 3 languages moderately fluently. Most speak Spanish, English, and French.
• The fact that there are so many clowns. I see so many of these guys in the center of town and on the buses it is really ridiculous. They are professional clowns who make their living doing clown things. Wow, now that's a foreign concept.

the state of things

One thing I did not expect out of this trip to Mexico was the extent of the situation of poverty here. Through assigments for school and just experiencing the culture I have come to realize that the poverty of Mexico is something foreign to me and almost everyone who comes from the 1st world. More than 40% of the people here live below the poverty line. I was astonished to find that the minimum wage in my city (Puebla) is about 46 pesos a day. That's about $4.50 American dollars a day! A person can work a day at McDonalds here and make what a person in the states will make in an hour. 25% of the people who have degrees can't find work that pays what their education says they deserve. It is because of these two things that there is such a huge immigration problem to the U.S. No, it is not because they think America is an amazing country and want to experience life there. It is because they can work 1 hour doing intense physical labor that no one else will do and make more than they would make in one day in Mexico. This has been on my mind a lot lately.

I sat near a family of three one day coming home on the bus from church. They sold nuts and fruit and had huge buckets with all of their goods. The mother was reading her son's math book. The son was guarding the bucket of nuts as it was sliding everywhere when we went around turns. He seemed quite content. The father carried a bag of two sodas that I assumed would wash down their lunch. I was struck with the simple beauty of the family. They were dirty and poor, but they seemed satisfied. As they got off the bus the woman carried a sack of goods on her back and a bucket in her hand. The man carried the heaviest bucket and the sodas. The boy struggled with the last bucket which I am sure weighed more than half of his weight. There I was, in the face of poverty. My guess would be that the family makes less than 10 American dollars a day (that's the whole family). Yet, they went about what they were doing with love. In a situation like that complaining seems past trite. I think about the complaining I hear from above middle class people constantly and it really looks ridiculous. There is redemption among the poverty. A poor family of three with no hope of ever accomplishing monetary success or even comfort can live for the shear love of each other. And, whether they realize it or not, they live in the image of their creator, whose love is seen in their family far clearer than the middle class family down the street who complains about their lack of luxury and will be ripped apart by divorce in 5 months.