How a hankering for buffalo jerky at the Grand Canyon ended at the New Mexico border

            He smiled when we stepped into the store, laughing at ourselves: who stops at a roadside “Indian gifts” store to fulfill a craving for buffalo jerky?  As we moved toward the counter, he asked our names, where we were going.  He slid his book off the counter.  “That’s a good book you were reading,” my companion said as she pulled out her wallet.  So began the conversation.

He continued speaking, many minutes later.  The joy shone from his face, a radiant peace that desperately wanted others to find the Gift he had.  He talked, words flowing from his month faster, quicker, as if he feared that he might not have enough time to tell of all the wondrous things he had learned.  “Like the thief on the cross, you can have Jesus too.  He paid the price for our sins!  All you have to do is accept Him, you don’t need to go to mass, see the pope, say ‘Hail Mary,’ read the Koran, be baptized.  You just have to accept Him into your heart and you will go to be with Him in heaven when you die!  It’s such an amazing gift!”

            He was glad to talk with us, to tell his sisters in Christ about his ministry, about what he said to travelers who stopped by his store, about his passion for seeing people saved.  “I’ve been doing this for about three months.  I came back from college, in Alaska.  I’d been working for six months, eight or more hours a day, seven days a week, going through some really tough times, backsliding from God.  And that’s why He gives us tough times, to draw us closer to Him.  Christians, we’re so forgetful, we don’t remember the good times, the blessings from God; we have to have the tough times, the struggles, to draw us to Him.  These are what we remember.”

            His passion was evident, this young Native American man who had so many riches, despite what passersby might surmise from the surroundings.  “I love to talk about God, about what He’s done for us.  I sit here and read my Bible, I read it for three hours sometimes!  Then I have to make myself work, because you know, laziness is the reason for poverty.  But I could read it all day, for hours on end!  I pray so often, alone and with those who come into the store.  It’s so amazing what God has done!”

            He understands why others—why you and me—refuse to talk about God, why Christians are scared.  “We just want Him to fit in our cage, tuck Him under our arms, have Him behave the right way.  But that’s not right.  He’s done so much for us, we have to talk about Him!  And you know, some plant the seed, some give it water…you never know what you say or what you do, how it will affect someone.  So I tell everyone, I make sure they know about Jesus, and maybe then, maybe down the road, maybe five weeks, maybe sixty years later, what I said will come back and they will accept Jesus.”

            He asked to pray with us, thanking God for his sisters in Christ, seeking safety and guidance for our trip and for our futures, praising God for the blessing that we had been to him.

A Morning Routine

We walk toward the door, three interns in a row.  The screen door  loudly opens, its familiar squealing and moaning barely noticed.  I twist my key onto my keychain, holding the screen open with my foot as Stacy, then Anna, exit.  Anna holds the screen door as I hand it to her, while Stacy turns and locks the front door.  I walk toward the car.  They follow a few steps behind.

We slide into the car, three interns into a warm oven.  Our various bags are stowed in familiar places as the A/C is cranked up.  95°F before 8AM?  That’s crazy.  The stereo turns on, playing the same CD as it has for the past three weeks.  Coldplay? Yes. 

We drive in silence, three interns inside their own minds.  The traffic is light today.  Yellow, red, green. The interstate.  Two exits.  Thoughts turn toward the workday as the cross-streets slide by our windows.  Right turn: Washington Street.  Bump, bump, bump.  The Toyota sedan was not made for four-wheeling; do construction crews understand this?  The familiar parking spot beckons. Gathering our various bags, we travel across the parking lot.  Chime: the car locks.  Click: the office door unlocks. 

We walk away from the door, three interns in a row.  The door softly closes behind us. 

Who would have thought you could get cabin fever in the summer??

From My Internship Journal

The "highlight" of my week actually did not occur at my internship, and it was not exactly a pleasant experience.  My housemates and I had stopped at the store on the way back from work Friday evening, and a poor man came up to me asking for money.  He showed me an injured arm and said that he and his son could not afford to pay for a doctor.  He asked me to buy a paper to help him.  I did not, politely turning him down, but the experience shook me.  I suddenly realized that I was interning for a poverty relief organization, excited about ending poverty worldwide, yet here I was, refusing to help the poor in my own neighborhood  Talk about hypocritical Christianity! 

What should I have done?  As a lone female in a parking lot of a not-so-nice part of town, I was probably justified in refusing to dig through my purse for money.  Still, there is something wrong when I can unfeelingly refuse a poor man in front of me when my day job is "fighting to end poverty" at my non-profit organization down the street.  What would Christ have me do in that situation?  Honestly, I don't know.  He calls us to be merciful, to love justice, and to walk humbly before God (Micah 6:8).  Proverbs says that "He who oppresses the poor reproaches his Maker, but he who honors HIm has mercy on the needy" (14.31), that "He who has pity on the poor lends to the Lord, and He will pay back what he has given" (19.17), that "Whoever shuts his ears to the cry of the poor will also cry himself and not be heard" (21.13). 

I would like to believe that God would have protected me as I searched for money in my purse, that God would provide my future need of gas and groceries.  This is a fallen world, however, and there is no promise that safety and money will be provided.  My own worldview, which can justify the "necessary evil" of ignoring a man in need for the sake of my own safety, is a part of the fall.  What should I do?  I cling to the promise that God is faithful to forgive and to santify, that "all things work together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose," that someday I will reach heaven, where there is no pain, no suffering, no poverty. 

What should I have done?  There are no easy answers.  That experience, though, will stick with me through this internship.  How do we reconcile our fight againt international poverty while ignoring the "bad section of town"?   As Proverbs 19.1 states, "Better is the poor who walks in his integrity than one who is perverse in his lips and is a fool."

This is Skiing