Culture Shock

Where’s Jesus?

After spending three days in the sun and sand, the wife and I needed some Kombucha. We hopped on the little engine that could and took off into the balmy 101 degree weather (that’s 38 degrees, rest of the world temperature). If you’ve never had the opportunity to wait in line at the border straddling a toaster whist the Mexican sun beats down on your shriveling head, well, then you’ve probably lived a very safe and sane existence. My wife and I, on the other hand, aren’t really too concerned about being called sane or safe.

Anyway, after chatting with the really nice border guard we were off again. 40 minutes later we pulled off our sopping wet helmets and hobbled towards the sound of the air-conditioning fans at Barnes and Noble.

After draining the contents of the camel-back and finding a few books on Spanish grammar to keep me busy, I had a look around. Before I start this plea for more of Jesus in America I have to explain a little about what I’ve been doing for the last three days.

Let’s see, there was last night when we lined up the girls and sprayed their hair full of cedar oil because one of the girls had, and I quote, “Some pretty sizable lice”.

Anna and I after we killed some lice.

Or there was the first day (Friday) when we spent all day playing with, tossing around, holding, and talking to 40 little ones. Just waking up to see 40 children running around, yelling, crying, fighting, laughing and singing was enough to send my head in a million directions.

What’s wrong with these kids? Are they like the ugly carrots that get rejected because people won’t buy carrots unless they are perfectly straight and homogeneous?

Are their smiles and laughs different than the smiles and laughs from the kids who have moms and dads that love them?

These children are 5 hours away from where I grew up. How is it so easy to think that this is a far away “other world” issue?

Cesar showing off his pipes.

So I started looking around for the crazy ones. The ones who were in the corner sharpening the plastic forks from lunch so they could stab their friends eyes out when they went to bed. Or the kids with three toes and a hunched over back. And guess what? I didn’t find either.

After four days here I’ve got nothing to point to and say conclusively that you shouldn’t grab one of these precious children and take them home and let them explode your life with life.

And that’s the heart that walked into the Barnes and Noble today. That reality crashed against the reality that was being pumped into the eyes and ears of everyone who was walking around the mall.

Buy this! It’ll make you happy!

Red white and blue! Show America how much you care by buying a t-shirt marked up 300% that some person in Indonesia made in the middle of their 16 hour shift!

Don’t think about real issues! We’ve got Arnold Schwarzenegger and explosions to take your mind off of any real world issue that you might accidentally waste some time thinking about!

Orphans? Do you see an Orphans Today magazine? Come on, you want the good stuff. We’ve got magazines about cars, girls, sex, wooden boat building, fantasy football, video games, and the true wild West! Wouldn’t you rather think about those awesome things instead of orphans?

“Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” -Jesus (Matthew 6:19-21)

Until next time,

Lose your life!



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