Home.

Living in Guatemala, I spend a lot of time subconsciously trying to figure out which culture of the many that surround me I should "be," and possibly even more time making myself decide where to call home. 

As a bridge-builder at heart, I want to be able to cross over completely and BE chapina.  I've chosen to live here for the time being and I want this world to make sense and feel like home.  I want to pull out a flawless accent and witty vernacular and prove that I'm one of "us," that I "get it."  I don't like being different, in the other-than and apart-from sense of the word; it makes me feel discounted. 

However, the part of me that did in fact grow up entirely a US citizen and spent all-but-the-entirety of my developing years in one town and one small sub-culture of close-knit people who all speak with the same accent of our common language is still fairly certain that life would be immensely more comfortable there.  But somehow, to embrace that, I have to leave this behind, and to embrace this, I have to forsake that. Right?

Here I sit, asking constantly if I should sacrifice all the old and join myself to the new (and how long would that really take?) while all the while I fully realize that I'll never erase 22 years spent in another world, and if that were ever God's plan, I wouldn't have been born there in the first place!  

I've convinced myself that I have to be one thing or the other.  It's as though every time a piece of gringo shows up (which, let's be honest, is preeetty often), it overwhelmingly discounts all the little pieces of chapina that I've worked so hard to learn.  The tiniest piece of my not-so-former self can make me feel like I've failed at something that God has never asked of me to begin with. 

Slowly, I'm learning that to love someone doesn't mean I have to become them. 

Yes, Jesus became human.  But he never quit being God.  Not even for a second.  And just for good measure, you couldn't really make a case for him fitting in as a normal human while he walked this green earth any more than you could make a case for Renae Wolf fitting in as a normal Guatemalan in San Lucas.  But did Jesus ever love us!  He brought to bear every ounce of who he was, and sacrificed, and understood even when he was misunderstood, and loved us! 

Can I tell you how comforting that is??  This life can be done.

My prayer is no longer that God would "make me a Guatemalan," or even that he would make me a "not American" (more on that here).  My prayer is that the Master of culture-crossing and the Creator of my heart would speak to me every day the Truth of who I am.  I want to learn the ins and outs of my home culture as God's daughter and a citizen of Heaven who is desperately longing for Home.  

"But we are citizens of heaven, exiles on earth waiting eagerly for a Liberator, our Lord Jesus the Anointed, to come and transform these humble, earthly bodies into the form of His glorious body by the same power that brings all things under His control." 

- Paul, to the Philippians

How big would the box have to be?

Traveling outside of your home country has a way of opening your mind.  Living outside of your home country has a way of messing with it.  

Little did I know that the day I flew out of MSP for GUA, I'd essentially traded in my personal identity for a laundry list of "All Americans do/say/are ________ ."  To nearly every person I meet, I am a 180 cm blonde gringa with a crazy accent and no prayer of ever looking like I belong here.  Almost conclusively.  As such, there are several more assumptions that can pretty easily be made about what kind of person I am, what I like and dislike, and whether or not we could ever understand each other and be friends.  Some may very well line up with reality, but some are FAR, far from the truth, and only the most open of hearts will ever stick around long enough to tell the difference.  

I can't tell you how many people have walked away satisfied with a rather odd idea of who I am or what I'm doing here.  ( Nor could I tell you how many times I've done the same thing to someone else who seemed to fit into one of my pre-fab boxes! )  

I don't want to be lumped in with everyone else who has the same color hair as I do.  I don't love it that people I haven't met will assume that I don't make any sense just because I have blue eyes.  I miss the identity that used to be based on who I really was... so I start to do some really strange things -- Just to distance myself from "them" with whom I have been inescapably lumped.  I start to do things that don't make sense.  Like speaking Spanish to English speakers.  Or not claiming to be an American during grouping activities.  Or ignoring foreign visitors who probably need a friendly face. Or any number of other awkward things I've done that just don't deserve to be mentioned, but were equally as unnecessary! 

And it's not because I hate my country!  I just can't handle the us / them wall that goes up around me when I choose the English-speaking side of the room, and there's this atomic-strength pulse inside of me that really badly wants to prove that I'm not just an American.  ¡Muchá, I'm a person!  A woman, a sister, a thinker, a listener, a musician, a snarky jokester, a daughter, a mentor, a learner, an explorer, a sinner and a Christ-follower.  And YES, a long-time resident of the great state of Minnesota, a German/Irish/Welsh/Whoknowswhatelse European (see what I did there?), and an American.  ALL of those things and more.  And I'm not the same as everyone else from any given one of the groups I've come from. 

I am learning what it feels like to be in the minority.  I live a golden life by any standard, and it's still not easy.  Prejudice comes in many shapes and sizes; it is at best annoying and at worst painfully degrading.  Let's be careful with our boxes, friends.  I have yet to meet a person who fits really well inside of one.  

Some of the amazing girls from church who have gone a long way to explore my "box" and make me feel like family.  ¡Las quiero mucho!

A Gentle Reminder

La Vía Dolorosa

I had the privilege of going with a handful of our girls to a vivid presentation of God's love for us and the price he paid for our freedom.  Sitting amongst a pile of friends, babies, and small children is my new favorite way to enjoy all angles of God's story.  Did I mention that there were babies??  Sweet, precious Arquilla babies and their beautiful, brave, young, learning about life the hard way mammas.  We had a lovely evening together. 

I also had the privilege of walking with one of our girls through a crowded auditorium - once toting the diaper bag and once holding her baby.  Now, if there's one thing living in Central America has gotten me used to, standing out and having random strangers downright stare at you is definitely close to the top of the list.  Not a day goes by where someone doesn't bluntly point out that I'm very different from everyone else in this country.  Thank you, I'm going to choose to embrace that.  But let me tell you, we got some looks walking through that auditorium; the kind of looks that make my "mother bear" realize it's Spring time.  

Yes, ma'am.  This girl is very obviously a new, inexperienced mother.  Good catch!  You have probably also noticed that she doesn't exactly have a diamond ring on her finger.  

But ma'am?  

You know absolutely nothing else about her!  Maybe she is a foolish girl seducing for love in all the wrong places.  But I'm here tonight with a friend who had been through hell and back before she even qualified as a teenager, who made it out on the other side with another life depending on her for the safety she didn't even have herself, and that's all the compassion you can shoot her way?  Impressive.  I realize we just crossed your path, but I sincerely doubt that that gave you the whole picture you needed to judge appropriately.

At about this point, I realize that I'm doing the same thing I'm mad at "those people" for doing: drawing conclusions about someone's character without bothering to meet my fellow God's-image-bearer.  Ouch.  

All of this going down as the greatest story of God's grace plays on in the background.  Good heavens, do we ever need that grace! 

So Renae, before you pounce, take a second to pray
and before you assume, please ask
and if that second pause only makes you mad, 
go ahead and take an hour or two at the feet of the man who had to die just to save you...

until you can come to the point of rejoicing in God's grace

... For "creepy-looking guy" loafing outside the grocery store
... For the mom who smells like smoke and is yelling at a kid
... For the rich couple who just zoomed by you on the highway 
... For the pregnant teen who looks like she's enjoying herself
... and for the tall woman sitting in front of you with a noisy baby =)

and take a reminder to be gentle. 

Matthew 6:22

And Jesus cries because He loves ‘em both

We've had a week of victory in the world of justice here at Oasis .  
     Truth has silenced lies ,
          Light has revealed darkness , 
               Evil has been bound and the innocent set free!

The same God who empowered a shepherd boy to slay a great and horrible giant has empowered our amazing , special , vulnerable little girls to stand up against their own terrifying , powerful giants . . .  and win .   Justice has won.  

I can't tell you how proud I am of our girls .  There are absolutely no words for it .  They have stared evil in the face and spoken truth .  Brave .  They have healed enough to see through the shame and threats and manipulation of past abuse and discover who they are . Courageous .  They are being made new .  They have said with confidence, "I am God's daughter .  I belong to a God of justice."  Friends, these little ones are Strong . 

It's been a pretty amazing week. 

But I wasn't prepared for the tide of emotions that came when I opened an article in the Prensa Libre covering the successful arrest of a couple of our girls' "bad guy."  H e a v e n   a n d   e a r t h .   Please pray before you open that link , if you open it.  In this corner of Guatemala, darkness has come to light and evil has been bound, and that is gloriously righteous!  But for this man, the darkness still holds him captive.  His soul is shattered-broken and evil wraps around his neck like a chain.  Oh, his face . . .  He is wicked.  
God loves him. 

He is wicked.  God loves him.  

How do you reconcile that?  God's infinite love and man's deep wickedness can only meet in one place : Jesus Christ hanging on a cross to pay for all of it.  That love is expensive.  

Will this man ever see how much he is worth?  Or will he go to his bitter grave refusing to accept the mercy God offers him?  My heart hurts for him.  My heart hurts for everything he has done to my sweet friends.  
Love is really expensive. 

I am wicked.  God loves me.   
You are wicked.  God loves you.

"… I wondered why
The good man died, the bad man thrives
And Jesus cries because he loves ‘em both
… "

 - Josh Garrels Farther Along