Home Perfectly Safe!

We had been traveling on the river for about three hours until we arrived at our destination. After we arrived we had to make sure that the boat and motor was secure from robbers, who are always on the lookout for someone to take advantage of. Then we had to take a motor taxi to get us to the small town of Palcazu. This little town is filled with people walking around, selling food, clothes, and even baby chicks to take home to raise. It is busy with life and regardless of what is going on, I always get stared at. I don’t know why, and I look just like them. I have the same skin color and dress like them also. They have a sense of who “isn’t from around here.”

Berta and I checked into a small hostel, thinking it would be necessary to spend the night as the transport agency told me the next truck would be leaving at 3 AM. We stretched out and rested in the room, using the common bathroom down the hall since we didn’t have the luxury of our own. The room was hot having little ventilation, and there were numerous spider webs in the corners. Palcazu’s noise barges into the room with a fury and there’s no resting. In a short time a lady from the agency came by to tell me that a truck would be leaving for Pucallpa in about an hour, carrying a couple of cows in the back. We scrambled to gather our things thinking the truck would be leaving in short order. We hurried up to wait. After an hour I figured we would just go back to the hotel and leave in the morning.

We returned to the hotel, showered, got ready to rest “again”, when the driver of the truck came by and said, “Oh Chinita,” (all Asians are Chinos) “It’s you!” He recognized me from previous trips between Marty and I. In fact he was the driver who lost Marty’s bag of gear out of the tailgate on a recent trip. I told him I didn’t want to travel at night but he reasoned that it was actually safer than going in the early morning. There would be less danger of robbers along the way. Berta lobbied to leave then as she wanted to get on home.

So we boarded the truck and headed for Pucallpa, with two cows bound up and stowed in the back of that pickup truck. They were secured to the bars welded to the truck bed. Every time they moved the whole truck moved. Berta was afraid they might kick the glass in the back window. But nothing bad happened. The trip went a little slower than usual since the driver had to stop periodically to tend to the needs of those poor suffering cows. They couldn’t move. There they were suffering so they could arrive at the slaughterhouse. I was reminded of how Jesus had to suffer for me in order to purchase my freedom. Jesus was led to the slaughter for me, having come into the world for that purpose. Tears come to my eyes when I am made to think about His suffering on my behalf. Those silly cows didn’t have any idea what was about to happen to them, but Jesus went willingly, knowing the pain He would face, and He did it in love.

We ourselves were suffering a little, though not like the cows. The truck slipped and slid along the muddy road. We couldn’t even roll down our windows because of the slosh of muddy water. There were holes I was sure we would never pass, and this was at night on a dark jungle road! It called for real faith to trust the Lord to get us home, and to take care of us if we didn’t. There have been many assaults and robberies on this road in the hours of darkness. Berta and I both called on the Lord to deliver us safely home. When the driver and the owner of the cows began to pull of their shirts because of the heat my mind was made to think that maybe they had illicit things in mind. At one creek, in the night, the driver got out and took a bath! I said to myself, “When will this stop?” Yet I realized that God was protecting us. We even had an extremely bright moon to help us see. I received that blessing as a reminder that God was taking good care of us. I realized that the Lord was providing many signs of His protecting hand on us and I took comfort in His promises.

We arrived at home at about midnight to find Marty pacing the floor and standing on the front porch looking for us. I had alerted him that we were coming; even Jacob was still up and anxious for our safe arrival. The cows were not so glad as they were headed directly to the slaughterhouse! We headed to our beds and delighted in the comfort of our home and rejoiced in the safe passage the Lord gave us. The trip was far less than ideal in terms of comfort, but how sweet to be, under the Lord’s protective hand, home perfectly safe!

These are the scripture verses that came to my mind as we traveled on that night:

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. Isaiah 43:2-3 (TNIV)

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, of craven and cringing and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of a calm and well-balanced mind and discipline and self-control. 2 Tim. 1:7 (Amplified)

A Big Thirst

Have you ever been in a place where you are dying for water? I (Dena) have and I want to tell you about it. I had to climb the bank of the river where it doesn’t even have a place for you to step. It is just some roots and just a little bit of a step. After you get to the top of the bank of the river then you begin to climb the steep hill until it comes to a flat plane for a while and that is where the house and field of one of the local believer is located. We rested for a while before we headed farther up the hill. I made a mistake in that I didn’t take my water bottle thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad, and, anyway, we were going to get sugar cane. So whenever the natives tell you that it isn’t very far, be prepared for some distance between you and your destination. To them it is not far because they have been walking and climbing those trails most of their lives. For someone coming from the city you can bet your pants on it that it will be very far. In a lot of cases I have taken my water bottle just in case. But this time I thought that I could just suck on the sugar cane to relieve me of my thirst. But the house was just half-way. We had to climb at least two more steep hills to get to where the sugar cane is planted. It’s good that you get to climb without anything to carry, but on the return you had better be prepared for the heavy load on your back.
The believers there have planted some pineapple and we were able to find a kind of ripe one for us to eat before going up the hill. Some of the pineapple was stolen from their field and there’s little they can do. They just have to put everything that they have planted in God’s hands, knowing that whoever took it will have to answer to God for stealing from those who have worked so hard, especially the children of God. Even the pineapple was a bit green but it was still sweet and didn’t have the bitter taste on your tongue like in the United States. It was refreshing to my thirsty mouth.
After eating the pineapple we were ready to continue to our destination to get those sugar canes. We walked down the hill to a creek in which I almost fell off the log bridge. Up the hill we then trudged. By the time we reached the field where the sugar cane was growing, my thirst was raging. If only I had brought that water bottle! In a short time my companions were cutting cane and peeling its tough outer covering away. When I was given a piece I shoved it into my mouth and sucked the sweet juice like my life depended on it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thirsty. The natural goodness of the plant’s sugar-water was just what my system needed and in a few minutes I began to feel much better. The sugary juice is pure and contains no chemicals; nothing artificial—it’s just the way God made it.
This reminded me of how I should be—nothing impure or artificial added. God’s word is a guide for me along life’s paths. Sometimes my soul gets so thirsty I don’t think I can go another minute in this world. I can grasp for something that artificially satisfies me; something that distracts me from the stresses and tests of life, but in the end they all return. However if my Lord is my drink and my sustaining force I can find renewed strength. Moreover, He keeps me from slipping and getting hurt or from hurting others as I follow the instruction of His word and let Him carry me over life’s log bridges. Thank you Lord for the pure drink of your word and the everlasting refreshment it provides.

A Walker's Perspective

The statement “I’m going for a walk” used to be so simple. Doing it was simple. You just grabbed your sneakers (that’s what we called them growing up, but now kids don’t know what that means) and you headed out the door. Your walk took you through quiet neighborhoods with the sound of robins in the shrubs and the occasional bunny stopped to watch, not sensing danger, but rather sharing the brotherhood of God’s wonderful creation. The falling leaves danced in spry spirals through the air and the pathway was so smoothe you could watch the clouds and find amazing shapes and designs without the danger of stumbling over obstacles.

I enjoyed some of this in Springfield, MO, during our last stateside assignment last year. I would leave the house at about 6 AM and head through the neighborhood beneath aged maple branches. There was literally a cottontail rabbit that frequently appeared even in this suburban setting. I crossed onto the main boulevard and followed its sidewalks until I turned back through another community, made a large loop around the Golden Pond Apartments, and then worked my way back toward home. Along the way I hardly met anyone and there was very little traffic.

Why am I taking this walk down memory lane? Because for the last two days Dena and Berta and I have taken some afternoon walks through Pucallpa, along the main highway into town, and it ain’t Springfield! To characterize the route with accuracy and detail would take several pages. We follow the uneven sidewalk dodging people, dogs with serveral kinds of skin diseases, dumped smelly garbage, low awnings extending over the walkway at eye-level, mud holes, uncovered utility holes, water puddles, and much more. The traffic is merciless toward pedestrians and many drivers of three-wheeled motor-taxis would just as soon run over you as look at you. This very evening one hurried across my path to leave a driveway in front of a bus station and it’s steel passenger framework actually hit my arm and hand leaving a pretty good bruise. I shouted after the driver who just looked back and mumbled something unintelligible and went on.

The whole scenario is backdropped by a steady roar of traffic which pervades in all of Pucallpa. The motor-taxis are motorcycle taxis with three wheels and all of them make lots of noise. The last figure I heard several years ago was 11,000 of them in this small geographic area. Pucallpa has some 400,000 people and most of them utilize this form of public transportation. It was from one of these last year that four young men lept to rob me at 5 AM on a Sunday morning along this very road. I have spent the last year walking only within our gated community, but during the day there’s little chance of being robbed. Chances are much greater for being run over!

I can liken the whole experience to walking in a sort of obstacle course. You can’t take your eyes off the sidewalk for long for there is the everpresent danger of stepping into a hole and breaking bones. Many utility holes are left uncovered. The many stray dogs leave their blessings on the sidewalk and that’s an even worse danger! Passersby think nothing of bumping into you and never say “Excuse me.” Am I sounding negative. I don’t mean to be. This is just the realtiy we deal with when we go out on the town. It’s compounded by being one of the gfw “Gringos” in the area and I am constantly stared at and evaluated by many people who sit along the streets and in front of businesses and homes with nothing better to do. This is one of the by-products of high unemployment and the people are not camped out hoping to catch a glimpse of the white guy. They are there all the time. The white guy is just a curiosity.

One of the great challenges of leaving America and tranquil places like the sidewalks of Springfield, MO, to serve the Lord in the third world is that there is the temptation to become cynical toward a culture and environment that is so different. There are many unpleasantries in a this area where “nice things” seems like a missing concept and the push to serve self without the basic respect shown to one’s fellow man seems like a lost concept. It’s typical to see someone ignore the long line of patiently waiting people and push to the front of the line as if the line didn’t exist. This “me-ism” is what drives the tendency of drivers to ignore the pedestrian on the street; an ironic contrast to the reality that if you hit a pedestrian with your vehicle you go to jail.

Well it’s time to simmer down and bring this gripe to a close! What I want to say is that I don’t want to become cynical toward the culture in which I live and serve the Lord. God has called us here to be salt and light, not to complain. Why is the culture the way it is? It is because for many centuries the people have lived without truly knowing the God of righteusness, justice, and love. Simply put: They need Jesus. With this understanding I can look beyond the flaws of society and its drastic differences from what I am used to. I can love the people who offend me. When I do an amazing thing happens. They really no longer offend me. I’m looking at them through the eyes of Christ who has nothing left to lose and can no longer be put off and offended. He’s already given everything. My complaining comes when I have taken a part of my heart back and find myself insisting that everything meet up with my standards; my expectations.

Salt and light aren’t choosy about where they work. They just do their job. O God take all my expectations and crucify them with Jesus on the cross of love. Let me see the needful hearts and understand where the bad comes from. They need you, Lord. How will they ever love you back if your servants do not love them as you do?

So, Lord, lets’s take a walk. For I want to walk with you through the corridors of this city…and from here to the Ashéninka people to whom you’ve sent us. Make me to see all the hurt, corruption, and sadness as you do, and to hurt for the souls behind it all. To love them selflessly.

Holes in the sidewalk? I know that’s when you’ll carry me.

The Black River

We've written about the Río Negro in our newsletters. It's a mysterious place that's really what the idea of a jungle river conjures up in your imagination. To make the setting even more exotic is the presence of much gold in the river and the frequency of ancient pottery and stone implements that can be seen in many places. There are some mining operations up the river from our ministry area, and many of the local Ashéninka people pan gold from the river at the rate of up to 2 grams per day. That will fetch about $40 from local buyers.

Dena just returned from a trip into the Apurucayali River area where we have a rustic jungle house on the riverbank. She was able to make plans with pastor Justiniano from Belén to accompany me (Marty) to the Río Negro later this month. We have recently turned our sights toward this river and its communities where there are a number of believers who have no spiritual guidance. There is no church and no prepared leader. We are planning to return there with more frequency, having the conviction that this is an area that needs our attention and sensing the Lord's leading.

The Río Negro is not the easiest place to go. One has to catch a crowded truck over the bumpy Marginal Highway of the Jungle (Carretera Marginal de la Selva) to the tiny riverside town of Yuyapichis. This town is very small and the people a bit distrusting of "gringos" who "must" have some ulterior motive for showing up in such an unlikely place. I usually secure lodging in a rustic hotel that has unfinished wooden walls, lots of cobwebs, and some lonely cockroaches. There isn't anything better in Yuyapichis! When the rattle of the road has settled down in my head and my nerves are up to it I wander across the pueblo to a small FM radio station that is set up in the living room of a private family (very friendly people). Here I pay about $1.50 for them to put an announcement on their radio broadcast which informs the named Christian friends of my arrival and requests that they come down from their community to pick me up in Yuyapichis. This works most of the time, but once last fall my partner and I sat for two days waiting only to conclude that no one was listening or no one could come. We left and invested our time elsewhere.

The river itself is very low, runs fast, and has lots of dangerous rocks. Nevertheless like all the jungle rivers it's a very beautiful place. On a jungle river whatever stress you brought from the city trickles out like water from a faucet and you are left with the purity of nature and the tranquility it brings. So there's something to be said for traveling in this manner: it takes the city and the world out of you and leaves you "cleaner" for the spiritually focused work you've come here to do.

Please pray for this return to the Río Negro and the Ashéninka communities of Pueblo Libre and Tahuantinsuyo. Pray for sensitivity to needs, spiritual conditions, and that our small team will be able to connect hearts with the Christians in those places. Pray also the the Lord will do a great work in drawing people to salvation and in building His local church among them.

The key person with which we have been working in the community of Pueblo Libre is Santiago. He is the brother of Ema Rojas whose husband Alejandro has had an important role in the success of the work in the Apurucayali River. Santiago is a sincere and dedicated man of middle age. Like many committed Christians in such places he often finds himself all alone, even among those who have once proclaimed their personal faith in Christ Jesus. They tried to walk with God for a time but the pull of their friends and the pressure to conform to the ways of the local people won them over again. Santiago has resisted the pressures and along with his wife are many times criticized and laughed at for their faith. When our team has been in Pueblo Libre Santiago has dedicated lots of time and energy to fishing or hunting, trying to provide some meat for his guests: this done with love and true Christian character.

There was once a "church" in Pueblo Libre--years ago. A "pastor" was appointed to lead the congregation, but he eventually fell by the wayside like so many "Christians". He's still there, but can't seem to decide whether he will stand with Jesus or the world. Many of those who were baptized in the past are not to be found among the faithful, but at the fiestas in drunkenness. They make their home brew of boiled and fermented yuca root. We often weep for the eyes of the people to be opened to see how hollow this lifestyle of drunkenness is. But even if that lifestyle is not enjoyed it still has an amazing pull upon everyone. It begins in youth and continues until death. If a person doesn't conform he is ostracized and severely criticized. It's hard for believers to be believers. We long for them to see that if they can tough it out, the Lord will vindicate them; will bring them their reward in due time. This is not just Pueblo Libre, but everywhere among the indigenous peoples of Peru. Pray along these lines with us that God will liberate many from Satan's ancient grip through alcohol.

Photos: the Pachitea River from Yuyapichis; believers gather at Tahuantinsuyo; main street in Yuyapichis and my lodging there; Santiago; overlooking the Río Negro at Tahuantinsuyo