The Geography of Grace

A year ago, Rocky and I had the privilege of attending the Intermissions Conference in Panajachel, Guatemala.  One of the seminars we attended was entitled “Geography of Grace.”  The presenter, Joel Van Dyke, shared with us his experiences of ministering among the least, the last and the lost.  His work in Guatemala City is among the urban poor, but much of what he shared rang true in our hearts for the people God has allowed us to share life with. 
 
 When the seminar was over, we bought his book, Geography of Grace:  Doing Theology From Below.  As soon as we returned to Chisec, Rocky began reading.  For whatever reason, I didn’t read it at that time, but a couple of days ago I noticed it on the shelf and picked it up, and I am so glad I did.  As I’ve read, I’ve been moved to tears over and over again. 
  
Living and working among the poor and oppressed is a challenge.  Every day we are faced with dichotomies that are difficult to process.  In the midst of the poverty we experience hospitality unlike anything we’ve ever known.  In the midst of difficulties we see the people rise up and continue with a smile on their face.  Groups often comment of the people here, “they have so little, yet they are so happy.  How can that be?”    
     
As I picked up the book and began to read, the Lord, once again, began to show me His heart for the least, the last and the lost. 
    
“Gospel hope dares to cut through the fog and call things what they are.  It dares to suggest that within both beauty and affliction there is the real presence of a loving God.”  When I visit homes where I cannot imagine living, where the family survives on nothing more than tortillas and the bananas that grow beside their little shack, I am overwhelmed by the affliction.  I see their torn clothes, lack of shoes, dirt floor, malnourished bodies, but there is more.  I am called to see not just with my physical eyes but also to see in the spiritual realm.  And when I look up – there is so much more to see and experience.    God is there, and there is hope right there in the middle of that grinding poverty.   There is love, fellowship, communion, gratitude, and beauty. 

     Infant mortality rates are pretty high in the outlying communities and it is not uncommon to be called to pray in a home where a baby has died.  So often I don’t know what to say or do in situations like this.  It is so profoundly sad and to make it worse, often completely preventable.  How can I be “the hands and feet of Christ” to a woman who just lost her precious little baby?  

“If God responds with the sacrament of silence in the presence of  his Son’s agony, perhaps there is wisdom in doing the same when confronted with the reality of another’s pain – to hold and be held by the pain of another long enough to be transformed by it.” 

I can hold her and weep with her, love her and share in her loss and allow the experience to change me.  And maybe, just maybe, if Jesus was here in her village that is what He would do.      

“When all hope is lost, the crushed want to know that God is with them…as One who suffers with them.  This is what the Gospel dares to suggest…The promise of the Gospel is that God does not stand behind the world in some remote or veiled way.  We don’t have to look past this world and her afflictions to find hope.  We do not have to convert the world before we console it.  God is here now, active and present – or as Paul says with breathtaking freedom, Christ is all and in all. (Col.3:11)”

I used to think ministry was doing the important stuff – preaching, evangelism, outreach, etc.   And it is true; these things form a part of ministry.  I am learning, however, that ministry is also in the little events of everyday life.  In living and working among the people, sharing in their pain and in their celebration.