Not So Subtle Reminders

Brokenness, I am constantly reminded of it, and ever grateful for it. I was sitting in church yesterday and was reminded of the brokenness that exists all around us. It was missions Sunday, so the emphasis was placed on all the missions that we as a congregation support everyday through prayer, emails, and financially and I was all at once transported back in time to our visit to the Philippines. As we saw the faces of the children on the streets and in the government hospitals, it was akin to reliving the experience all over. I could almost smell the sickeningly-sweet smell of the garbage at the Baloc site, or feel the joyful gaze of the children for whom home is the streets or a slum dwelling. As I saw the images tears began to swell in my eyes, the subtle reminders of brokenness that we become anesthetized to.
I must admit that I have found the anesthetic to the realities of the world creeping in with every day that passes. I am anesthetized to my own experiences as a foreigner visiting such disparate circumstances from my own. Life is filled busyness. We have to provide for our families. We strive to be good parents and spouses. We’re making meals, and cleaning rooms, doing laundry, calming teary eyed loved ones in the middle of the night, helping friends, and finding somewhere in the midst of it the time to enjoy life which usually means watching something on some kind of screen because we’re too exhausted to do anything else. Slowly, the anesthetic of life here in the west makes its way into our hearts and minds.
While the gap in geographical distance between my situation and the situation of those I encountered in the Philippines is vast, it seems that every day I am apart from them the gap in my heart between my experiences there and here is ever widening. Then, with the flash of a photograph or small video clip the distancing gap is all at once condensed and I find those feelings that I thought were lost over time and am reminded of something I heard a psychologist on the radio say once: emotional pain, when recalled from memory, acts on our minds as though it were happening for the first time. The pain of sympathy is one that I hope never to forget. It is the antidote to the anesthetic of a culture steeped in materialism. So how do I teach my son the value of this personal revelation?

Our Final Days

I'm on the airplane right now writing this blog entry. By the time many of you read this Josiah and I will already be home. Our last days are a bit of a blur to me now. We finished up the conference at the Frontline Worship Center, and on the last day of the conference we had the privilege of serving the people of the Baloc campus.
Privileged. That's honestly what I feel; privileged. It's hard to describe the feelings I have any other way. I'm almost 100 percent certain that the poor of Baloc, of Gruar, of the Philippines, were more of a blessing to Josiah and I than we could ever have been to them. The way in which their faces reflect gratitude exemplify how we ought to be in our relationship with our Heavenly Father. They lack so much that the slightest act of kindness fills their hearts to overflowing. The weight of the lessons I have learned here will no doubt loose their potency with time, as I reenter the material wealth and comfort of life in Canada. I only pray that the images that I have will fan a flame that can resist dulling effects of life back home.
The poor, Jesus said, will always be with us. In Canada, the poor are invisible. They are hidden in shelters and low income housing. Unless you intentionally place yourself in their path you may never know them. In the Philippines however, the poor are everywhere. You cannot escape the evidence of their existence and it breaks the heart.
I have so many questions for the Father. How do I carry on with this breaking in my heart? How do I let myself continually be broken on their behalf? How do I keep from being dulled, made passive, by the care and concern of the material life? I need Him to Father me in these areas if I am to father Josiah in like manner. How will I help him to understand the weight, the full weight, of what the Father has privileged us with? How do we carry what He has placed in our hearts and still carry on in the life that He has given us? How can we do Him justice? How do we seek justice for the poor on His behalf? I am now more than ever full of questions than I was before, and so much more aware of my need for is Fathering than I realized.
Josiah and I had a wonderful day in Taipei together. We managed to take a free half day tour of the city. We got to see some beautiful sights, in what I would describe to be a beautiful city. All in all it was a good opportunity to transition back into western life. But as we were swept up in the day I could feel dulling effects setting in; the glitz and glamour of the west. I didn't recognize it at first, but after reflecting I realized I could feel my heart grieving. Grieving the loss of fully feeling the plight of the poor as I allowed myself to be caught up in the clean and clear sheen of glass, steel, and technology. I grieved the presence of the poor who cause us to consider their lives. They are not matter out of place, as we are socialized to believe they are, but they are a treasure to behold and a reminder of our own state of being. Jesus said blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom and heaven… blessed are the meek: for they will inherit the earth. From what I experienced among the poor in Manila and San Pablo, the Kingdom of God is there in their midst. By His grace I tasted it and I am broken by it.

An Afternoon of Hospital Ministry

Yesterday was a difficult day. We accompanied a lady by the name of Nelia to the local pubic hospital to pray for the sick in the surgery and pediatric wards. The scene was incredible to me, and not in a good way, when I first saw how they administer care to the people there. The hospital looks something like a scene from a world war 2 film with dirty walls, broken floors, beds that are falling apart, and medical equipment that is antiquated. We prayed for a lady who had been in the hospital for four days for a surgery that would have been a simple day surgery back home. Many people in the hospital are prescribed medications that they cannot afford and they cannot leave the hospital until their bill is paid. So, if a person cannot afford their hospital bill they must remain there until they can pay it, and every day they stay their bill cotinues to accumulate. Nelia is often an advocate for these people negotiating hospital bills down from 80,000 pesos to 4,000 pesos. But, when the minimum daily salary can be as little as 240 pesos a day it is hardly affordable, even for public health care.

In the pediatric ward, 90% of the children we prayed for were there because of dehydration from diarrhea. We prayed for one lady who was in the hospital with her 11 day old baby because she had given birth to him at home and the baby had sepsis from the home birth. I'm not even sure what the prognosis was for the baby but we prayed for him nonetheless. Another man had his son in the hospital with a kidney infection for 16 days simply because he could not afford the medication. My heart was so broken for the people there I can't even describe the feelings. We ended up buying medications for those who couldn't afford them, but even that contribution feels like a tiny drop in the bucket because the need is so overwhelming.

As I was waiting with Nelia for the prescriptions to be written out so we could buy the medications, a woman came out of the room with her 20 month old son John David. No one had prayed for her son yet and I was told he had leukemia. I laid hands on him and prayed for healing in his little body, and told her I would have my family back home praying for him (so when you think about it please pray for John David). I ended up paying for antibiotics for him as well. The pharmacy was outside of the hospital, not in the hospital and there were several from which to choose. I was in disbelief at the fact that even though they are in public care, the hospital doesn't supply the necessary medication.

Sitting here a day later, our visit to such a derelict hospital seems almost as though it wasn't real. I don't know if that's because of the shock of it, or because I could never have imagined public health care being so poorly supported by the state. All we could do was pray.

Arriving in San Pablo

Well we have arrived in San Pablo after a full day yesterday. We checked out of the resort at one o'clock and then got on the bus at three to make our way back to Manila. We stopped for supper along the way and finally arrived at New Hope at a little after nine pm. Josiah and I were both feeling under the weather and a bit homesick yesterday which made the day feel even longer than it was. Before getting ready for bed we said our goodbyes to the team in Manila and I could feel the weight of the emotions building inside of me. I love the people here. I love their hearts, their generosity, the way in which they serve the least as though they are the greatest. They prefer everyone above themselves and I know that I can, and have, learned a tremendous amount from the people in there. My heart grieves leaving them behind.

I had the opportunity to share some of the material I have taught with men's fraternity (a program that I used to facilitate that teaches biblical masculinity) and the teen boys there received it very well. I had them gather in groups afterwards to discuss and pray with each other which I'm told was very well received. It was great for me to revisit the material from that course. It brought me back to the reason why I had looked into it in the first place: to learn what it means to be a father to a son, but also a son to a heavenly Father. I took the group to Proverbs 17:6 that says "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers." This has been a revelational passage in my life. It made me realize the amount of influence fathers have in their son's lives and inspired me to be a better father knowing that my kids look up to me with such unreserved admiration and trust. Because of that scripture, I have journeyed a path that has inspired me as a father to bring my son to the Philippines to share the love of our heavenly Father in whatever small ways we can with as much love in our hearts as we can offer.
But, it seems that the Lord isn't done with my personal journey yet. As I have been digging into the material again it seems I can feel his pull on my heart telling me that I need to fully embrace my sonship in him. Even now, as I write these words, I can feel the tug on my heart pulling me towards abandoning my reserved nature and to boast in him, giving him my full confidence, saying with my life that my dad is the best dad, because he really is my glory. My prayer is that I can inspire others to do the same with their lives. Most of all, I hope that I can inspire my own children to boast in their heavenly Father in full confidence of their role as His sons and daughters. As we enter the second phase of our trip here in San Pablo, I do so fully anticipating my Father to continue the work he has begun in my heart.

Sitting here watching God's version of fireworks

As it turns out there is wifi here at the resort, so I didn't need to blog in a panic after all. As I type this blog I am watching God's version of fireworks. Every few seconds the sky lights up, illuminating the bay with bursts of brilliant white and purple. As it is everywhere in the Philippines this time of year it is hot here. I feel like a snow man melting in the heat at times, and then I am rescued by a gentle breeze. Then, the sound of rain as it plays its song on the leaves of the trees and the rooftops of the picnic shelters. It's a wonder to me that anyone can experience these moments and fail to see the splendor of our Father in it.
Today was a day of travelling as we made our way to camp (or as Marlies said earlier today, Alan's version of it). We left Manila on Philipino time today which means we were supposed to leave at eight, but actually left at 9:30. As we were leaving the city the evidence of poverty was all about us. Squatters set up their makeshift homes wherever there is space or wherever landowners turn a blind eye. Where a river once ran, evidenced by the concrete structures of causeways and spillways, the poor harvest the lilly pad stalks and dry them by the roadside to be used for making baskets and shoes as they try to etch out a living in the heat of midday. It's a jumbled compilation of people and places devoid of any sort of city planning committee's influence.
To alleviate the overstimulation of the senses I read for a while only to lift my gaze upon what seems to be a totally different Philippine experience. As we enter the resort area all of a sudden the roads are clean, less congested, and the makeshift homes have disappeared from view. It was a weird experience as I fully expected to see what I already knew to be the Philippines, but instead saw a tourist destination. I had the odd sensation that this was an artificial representation of some kind. People who come to these places don't have to see the faces that make up most of the Philippines: the poor. It's not that the Philippines don't have their wealthy here, they certainly do. But unlike home, there is little semblance of a middle class so the wealthy are few in comparison to the many poor here.
At first I struggled to be here, but when I saw the faces of the youth, for whom this is really meant to bless, I quickly changed my perspective. For many of them the air conditioned bus ride alone is an event they haven't had, never mind a trip to a resort. I suppose perspective is important to consider on occasions like this. So, I am grateful to be here. Grateful to have small role I have been privileged with to bless these youth. And the Father blesses me with his version of fireworks on the sea.

Superkids as promised

So I'm not sure if I'll have an internet connection when we are camp and I don't want to forget the events of the weekend here so I thought that I had better write another blog about the Superkids program here at New Hope. But before I do that it is probably a good idea to tell you some of the history about it as told to me by Pastor Ding.
As he tells it to me, when he and Mona took over New Hope they didn't really have much of a passion for the kids ministry as we have the privilege of seeing it now. But as Ding tells me it was around Christmas time several years ago that it started. Every Christmas the kids from the squatter villages make their way out into the main streets knock on the windows of the vehicles and sing carols for the drivers in the hopes of collecting a few pesos. Ding felt challenged by the Lord to do something about this and so he and Mona decided to invite the kids from the local squatter villages to come for a Christmas party and only expecting about fifty kids (only really prepared for 100) they had over 500 children come for the Christmas party. From that one party was sparked Superkids. Now years later the program is run by some of the very first young people that they reached out to plus so much more. Every Saturday they feed anywhere from 350 to 500 kids and had to stop advertising because their facilities couldn't accommodate the numbers.
Ding, Mona, and the volunteers here at New Hope feed the poor on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays. During the beginning and middle of the week they go to various squatter villages, and the remaining days they feed children and youth right here at New Hope. First for superkids on Saturdays, and then at the Sunday evening youth church. Also, they run a school for kids in K-3 and each year they hope to add another year because they have a desire to see these kids lifted out poverty and see that a powerful tool for that is through an education that is better than the one public schools here offer. Right now they are in the process of negotiating for land across the street so they can build more classrooms for the children.
My heart is broken for these kids, and for the work that Ding and Mona do here. Surely they will be among the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, for they are truly the servants of the least, and by doing so they serve us all. Please pray for New Hope that the Lord will bless all that they do here, and that they will have favour in their endeavours. If anyone is deserving, it is them.

I am truly humbled by the way in which they serve.

A Bit of Time to reflect

It's eleven o'clock here on Sunday and I've just come away from chatting with my wonderful wife who I miss more and more as the days go by. I discovered that Blackberry messenger can be used while signed in to a wifi connection and had the wonderful privilege of hearing her voice as well as the voices (and in Shiloh's case sounds) of my other kids. We shared voice notes back and forth and laughed at hearing Titus in his two year old way, try to have a conversation with our recordings.
Being apart from those you love is both a difficult and blessed event. Difficult because you're apart from those who are most dear to your heart. A blessing because you are removed from the numbing effects of daily routine just enough to realize how much you really do love those who are closest to you. Things you take for granted like to cooing noises of a baby, the bright and cheery sound of a two year old's greeting, the endearing words of your daughter, or the loving sound of a spouse all cause your heart to remember its first loves.
While it was nice to hear the sounds of loved ones, it also came with its sadness in myself and Josiah. I think that the past few days have had an emotional toll on him and while hearing the voices of loved ones was good, it also brought up few other issues with it. Just after breakfast this morning I could tell Josiah was having a difficult time when one of the young people came up to him to give him a high five and he didn't return the gesture of friendship. I quickly took him into our room and asked him what was going on and I could tell that the heat combined with late nights were taking their toll when, with tears in his eyes, he told me that he was having a hard time because he couldn't understand the language, and that he thought that the kids were making fun of him. I had to explain to him that the kids here thought he was cool (after all they either called him Justin Beiber, or asked how he was related) and that when they were talking to him without understanding him that they laughed as a way to deal with the frustration they were feeling and not at him per se. Instead of getting angry and frustrated they laugh and giggle. The people here are very kind-hearted and happy so it isn't an illogical explanation. What I think was really going on though was a little home sickness. After a few minutes of discussion and some settling down we managed to gather ourselves together for the church service.
It made me wonder though, how many times in life do we have similar emotions? Perhaps we're going through an overwhelming situation where we don't understand what is happening and in our longing for the familiar misdirect our melancholy feelings on others whose intentions are farthest from our assessment of the situation. How many pep talks has the Father tried to give us to help us through the situation, and how many of us are really listening to what he is saying? As I journey on this faith walk with Josiah, I have to ask myself these questions. Am I really listening? Am I misplacing or misdirecting my emotions in areas that are not the cause. And so I look to the Father to help guide me through. Look for His pep talk or His insight when I can't tell the forrest from the trees. What I know for sure is that if I am interested in my own son's heart and can see what he's going through when he cannot, our heavenly Father sees and knows infinitely more than we do and is far more interested than we have the capacity to conceive.
Well I intended to write more detail about what we have done in the last couple of days but it seems that this blog has taken me elsewhere... probably the doing of the Father. Perhaps next time I'll talk about superkids and the amazing work that pastors Ding and Mona are doing here in Manila for the poorest and least of the city.