nica church reflections

I meant to post these thoughts ages ago, but well, with moving and all, my mind and energy have been elsewhere.

Several weeks ago I was talking to some friends who are still living in Nicaragua, and we were discussing what the North American church might be able to learn from the Nicaraguan church (side note: I am thinking specifically about the evangelical/protestant manifestations thereof, with whom I had the most contact-I believe there are things to be learned from the Catholic church too, but unfortunately in Nicaragua a cultural form of Catholicism tends to dominate rather than the authentic faith and expression of a smaller remnant).

I remember that my initial impressions of many evangelical churches (pentecostal and charismatic for the most part) was that they tended toward the legalistic side of the spectrum. Rules about dress, hair, makeup, jewelry, drinking, dancing, etc abounded. Having developed a strong theology of grace over the years, I admit I found these rules excessive and unhelpful for the most part, and for that reason sought out a more relaxed church while I lived there.

Back in the USA however, I found myself more sympathetic toward the attitudes and practices of the Nica church. I was able to see how those rules were an attempt to "set themselves apart", to take a stand in a culture where a cultural form of Christianity that involves drunkenness and idolatry has taken hold. I could see more clearly the rationale for wanting to adopt a lifestyle that was so clearly different, even if I didn't think the particular rules that some evangelicals lived by were necessarily the ones I would adopt myself.

I found this line of thinking much more compelling because I realized I have the same desire to live a life different than the culture around me, one that clearly points to my personal values regarding simplicity, justice, and hospitality...and their roots in my faith in Christ. Maybe I don't go so far as to call them "rules" but I have standards for my own life, ways of thinking about wants and needs, ways of making decisions about how to spend money and time and energy, etc. I desire consistency, even if I don't always succeed at maintaining it.

And this is what I realized that motivated my Nica brothers and sisters as well. And it caused me to wonder whether in our rush to be "seeker sensitive" in this culture (USA), if the idea of being "set apart" and "different", a lamp on a stand as believers, has not been sort of neglected. Certainly I am speaking in broad strokes, glittering generalities, if you will. But I realized the global northern church now tends to opt not only for "grace" (which is good), but also in many places (not all), "blending in". And I wonder if maybe there is something to be learned from our southern brothers and sisters...

after one week in my new digs

+ I'm really happy that my new bedroom is finally decorated, even though it hurts sometimes to see all my Nica art and pictures and be so far away. But it's nice to have a place of my own after house hopping for 3 months.

+ My new condo-mates Christie and Jody are fun, extroverted, food and exercising loving, and frugal! Example of the week: they came home with a bunch of stuff my second night here and told me they had just gone "dumpster diving" (not literally of course) and picked up a bunch of other people's rejected stuff (still in great condition). I followed suit the other day and picked up a lamp someone left in their yard a few blocks from my place.

+ I really love jogging in Hyde Park, my new reparto. I stopped for about 3 weeks after my accident but am back into it and almost up to 3 miles again. I signed up for my first 5k next month and a half marathon in November. I think I'm getting serious about this running thing, and I'm excited to be disciplined about something in my life.

+ There's so much to love about Austin, I hardly know where to begin. Related to the above, I love the respect I get as a pedestrian/runner (people stop for me!). I love all the parks and green spaces. I love all the hole in the wall restaurants and coffeeshops everywhere (not that I can afford most of them, but it makes me happy to see independent business flourishing somewhere, instead of just chains.). I love that there is a decent (free for students) bus system (that I still need to figure out). I don't think I can really love skyscrapers, but I like that the architecture downtown is artsy not boxy. I love that a river runs through Austin too (just like San Antonio, only here they've made in a hike and bike trail rather than a commercial center).

+ I'm glad SA is only an hour away and I can be a more involved aunt and big sister again. I went back this past Sunday to see Alex and Robbie sing at church and then was able to hang out with my sister and brother for a while afterwards.

+ Some days, I am really glad to be here. Other days, it still feels like a dream.

austin, coffee and dishwashers

I hadn’t cried in a couple weeks, so I guess it was time. It’s always an unexpected, small event that produces my sometimes disproportionately emotional response. This time, it was the dishwasher.

I just moved to Austin on Saturday, and among my few but prized possessions is a blue ceramic coffee mug decorated with a hand painted scene depicting volcanoes, lakes, and palm trees with a cursive Nicaragua adorning a small corner (if mugs have corners….). This mug was a Christmas gift to me from Andrea, my roommate, our first year in Nicaragua, and it became my beverage holder of choice for all the shared mornings that followed. It managed to survive the trip back to the USA, and five different moves around San Antonio this summer. I drank out of it every day, always remembering the many mornings I sat at a small wooden table in Managua, where Andrea and I drank our French-pressed café, talked a lot, laughed, and cried together.

Then, this morning, after my first jog around my new neighborhood, I came back and went looking for this mug to pour myself some already made coffee. After searching the cabinets, it occurred to me that maybe it was in the dishwasher, which one of my roommates had loaded the night before. It was, but when I pulled it out, I was not prepared for what I saw. Half the paint had disappeared, other sections had become distorted, and all that remains in one solitary palm tree trunk and parts of a few leaves. Ni se dice Nicaragua ahora.

I stared at it for a few minutes in disbelief. Then I proceeded to cry. It never occurred to me to tell my roommates that mug shouldn’t go through the dishwasher--I’ve been hand washing everything for years now. And I have a lot of things that I brought back from Nicaragua, which had they broken or disappeared, I might have been fine. But of course, it wasn’t any of those things. It’s one of the things (if not THE thing) that most connects me to my very best friend from those three years we spent together.

So even as I’m excited about all new places, new people, etc. in my life here in Austin, I’m also sad. My damaged mug is a symbolic reminder that things are changing, that I can’t hold on to everything from my life in Nicaragua, and how I choose to adapt to all the changes happening in my life will have a big impact on how things turn out in this new etapa.