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.