Oasis

An oasis can be defined as something that provides refuge, relief, or pleasant contrast. It sounds like something that is worth looking for. It sounds like something many people yearn for. 


Today we built in a section of San Vicente called Agua Caliente or "Hot Water". It's a place that people from the rest of San Vicente wouldn't normally go. They would be fearful to walk the narrow streets. In a country where violence is extremely high and in a city where violence is extremely high, this community is considered to be a place to avoid - don't end up in Hot Water!  Is an oasis an escape to another location from the dread of reality? If so, then this was a time for an oasis, not only because of the turmoil on the outside, but also because of the upheaval that has been going on within me over these last number of days. 

Yet here we were today, on our first build day of Leaders Week 2017. 32 people, some experienced leaders and some aspiring team leaders together with a large group of Salvadorian teammates walking into this community with one purpose: build houses that build hope...hope in Jesus!

The team that I was on finished our build early. It was one of those smooth and efficient builds where the ground was flat, the dirt was soft and the shade tree over our heads made working conditions favourable. While it was definitely good medicine to dig again and to build again and to work in rhythm with our Salvadorian friends, these things did not make it an oasis. 

Instead it was a simple sign, on the inside wall of the house. On a street that is lined with the tall concrete facades topped by broken bottles or barbed wire and the steel doors that form a mote-like distance between the trouble outside and the family inside, there was this sign hanging on the wall. On it was written Psalm 91...and there I was reminded that an oasis is not an escape from reality but it is the presence of Our Faithful God in the midst of our reality, even when we find ourselves in Hot Water. 

Psalm 91

1Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.^a

2I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,

my God, in whom I trust.”

3Surely he will save you

from the fowler’s snare

and from the deadly pestilence.

4He will cover you with his feathers,

and under his wings you will find refuge;

his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

5You will not fear the terror of night,

nor the arrow that flies by day,

6nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,

nor the plague that destroys at midday.

7A thousand may fall at your side,

ten thousand at your right hand,

but it will not come near you.

8You will only observe with your eyes

and see the punishment of the wicked.

9If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”

and you make the Most High your dwelling,

10no harm will overtake you,

no disaster will come near your tent.

11For he will command his angels concerning you

to guard you in all your ways;

12they will lift you up in their hands,

so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

13You will tread on the lion and the cobra;

you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

14“Because he^b loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;

I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

15He will call on me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble,

I will deliver him and honor him.

16With long life I will satisfy him

and show him my salvation.”

Goodbye

Goodbye

It can be hard to say goodbye. Especially after having shared an experience together. But when you've shared several experiences, the connection between you grows. This makes goodbye almost excruciating, a pain deep down within the soul that you just can't or won't let go. It's almost like the pain is a reminder of the relationship and so you don't begrudge carrying it. That's what goodbye's are like for me. This trip, this time it is another one of those gut wrenching goodbye's.

So...goodbye orange tshirt. When we first met at Old Navy you were bright and beautiful. Your $4 price tag misled and underdefined the legacy you leave behind. One trip to El Salvador turned into two, then three, then four, then...more and more. You were my constant companion on each of those trips. You always had my back...and front... Though you faded to an almost transparent hue of orange, you held me within the impenetrable seams of your shoulders. You have walked through valleys, across streams and up mountains. You have endured dirt, dirt and more dirt. No matter how hot the sun tried to shine...as try it did..you never let my brown torso get browner. You were no ordinary shirt. They say Father Time is undefeated. That nothing lasts forever. You endured beyond the point where other more expensive-fancy-namebrand shirts have wilted, ripped and worn out. If there was a hall of fame for tshirts, you would be in on the first ballot.  Not just because of your in the field accomplishments. But also for the tears you have absorbed on your shoulders, the children you have carried, and the congratulatory slaps  you have received upon your back. Let's not forget the constant wrinkling you have endured from all the hugs. Despite all of this, despite the blackening and hardening of your armpits, you gave everything until the end. You have shown yourself strong to over 60 team members, over 100 El salvadorian families. 

So thank you faded-yet faithful-crusty armpit-orange friend. You put the capital T in Tshirt. 

Deve

Casson's Post

This week has been one of profound experiences. I chose to blog first on New Year's Day (if memory serves) so consequently plenty has happened since  and been blogged about many times over. The lack of original material available definitely contributed to my "bloglessness", as well as my tendency for over-analysis. I know that when I write, it won't be finished quickly. I've read that there are essentially two types of "creatives" (I, of course, am using this term absurdly loosely for myself) in the world. Cassons, who are extremely scrupulous in their process and are constantly perfecting; and Picassos, who reach their peak quickly and output creativity like the air they exhale. I am undoubtedly the former. I am a much less creative creative who spends excessively long on his creative process to produce sub-creative creations. Anyway...

I suppose a brief summary of key events is in order. On our free day we had the tenacity to climb a dormant volcano by the name of "Chichontepec", which we were told translates to "volcano of two peaks". An exhausting endeavour it was, but one worthwhile. The view from the peak (which guides stated as 2,137 meters above sea level, but the inerrant internet describes as 2,182 meters) was ... incredible? Awe-inspiring? Urine-inducing? Yes. All of the above. The day following the climb we spent a portion of the afternoon learning about the Salvadoran Civil War. I found this incredibly fascinating and I wish we had spent longer hearing about it. The entire discussion took place on one side of a bridge that had been completely annihilated with explosives in 1980 by the guerrilla left, done in order to force the government's hand in paying for repairs. But the bridge was never repaired, and all that lies between the two banks are a couple of piers that once held it. But despite my interest in these activities, they aren't what I came to El Salvador for. I, we, came here to build houses for the broken and express love and compassion to all. 

There are a few reasons that I decided to commit to this trip back in...whenever I committed to it. I've been exploring questions about my faith, my worldview, and about myself. At home I'd been feeling stagnant. Caught in routine. This trip helped to escape from that. It taught me much about myself, and much about how I perceive other people. It was healthy for me. It, at times, made me feel incapable, unintelligent, and insignificant. All of these hopefully contributing to the humility I prayed for before and during this trip. The more I think about the week, and how I feel as it comes to an end, I'm not sure I share the ambiguous feelings some of my teammates do. I think I understand why this trip has been so significant: I experienced something completely different, I was able to help people, and I learned more about humility. 

Much of my reading material for the past year or so has been Francis A. Schaeffer books, thanks to Deve. In his book "The God Who Is There" he talks about communication. Specifically, communicating our beliefs, and the message of our beliefs, to others. He states that there is no automatic or mechanical method of communicating with people in this way, because this would contradict the element of personality (unique personality to each of us) that is so philosophically important to our relationship to God, who is a personal God. But ultimately, Schaeffer says, the only universal form of communicating to the individual is in love. I would like to insert a quote from this book: 

"Love is not an easy thing; it is not just an emotional urge, but an attempt to move over and sit in the other person's place and see how his problems look to him. Love is a genuine concern for the individual." 

The reason I use this paragraph is because I think it really applies to what we did, or tried to do, this week. We expressed love for these people by being close to them, doing things not only for them but with them. We spoke to them about their lives (not without the help of translators) and told them about ours. This engaging, involved, and genuine love that was not only directed from us to them, but was reciprocated, is what I think made this memorable for me. I didn't have a cathartic experience, but I did have an experience. Something that was outside the normalities of my home life. This trip was a small step in my life of continuous learning, and although it was a small step, it was an integral one. 

I've thanked my team, our translators, our food providers, our hospitable hosts, and the families that welcomed us into their communities this week, but lastly I would like to thank you. The readers of this blog. Your support and comments don't go unnoticed, we talk about them within our team daily. I have a feeling this will be the last post on the blog for this trip (editor's note: it's won't be), so if that is the case: here is to El Salvador in 2017, here is to a life of learning, and here is to communicating with genuine love. 

-Duncan