The stuff of life

I was reminded this week that I am here for the ups and downs of life and faith in Peru. I am here for the stuff of life, regardless of what that may be. Two separate experiences throughout the week reminded me of this.
Wednesday night was the closing service and program of the annual leadership school that meets for about a month each January and February. This school includes 2 weeks of intensive discipleship training and then about 2 weeks of outreaches to villages where the national church has church plants. In Peru, communication about event times and the actual starting times of these events isn't always very clear. We decided to be on the safe side and be early, with the end result that I got to help in the kitchen for about an hour or so before the program started. Of course, any good Mennonite event, no matter where it is, needs to include some sort of food. So I got to work with some of my friends from the various churches to make ham and cheese sandwiches and serve a pasta dish to the leadership school participants. Who knew that working in the kitchen could be so fun! :)
It was such a blessing to be at the program that night. The leadership school was very unique this year in that most of the participants were from the churches that have been recently planted in the various villages of the Andes Mountains. Many of these people were quite young, both physically and spiritually. A significant percentage of them have been in the church only a few months. Some were not even baptized when they came to the school. And yet, to see their faith and dedication to God was such a blessing. It was beautiful to hear their testimonies of praying for people and sharing their own newfound faith with them. What a blessing to know that these brothers and sisters in Christ have received this foundational leadership training that will serve them for the rest of their lives! I have been so blessed to hear the stories of Peruvian faith this week on different occasions. The commitment and faith that these people have challenges me. I was reminded as I watched the dramatizations of what had happened during the outreach part of the school of the passage in 1 Corinthians 1:26-29. "Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things - and the things that are not - to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him." I enjoyed seeing friends again that night, but more than that, I enjoyed seeing and being blessed and challenged by the faith of Peruvian believers! These pictures are of the skits that the participants put on as well as the worship time we had together.
The second event of the week that reminded me that I am here for the ups and downs of life actually happened today. When our friend Marga came to the house this morning to help us out, she informed me that my friend Ronal's dad had died the day before yesterday and the burial was today. We decided to go together, since both of us wanted to go but neither wanted to go alone. This was my first Peruvian burial. It was, according to the pastor's wife, who we met up with when we got there, different from an evangelical burial service, since Ronal's dad was Catholic. Nevertheless, it was definitely an experience in the stuff of life and the common experience of death. We got there about 45 minutes after it was supposed to start, which didn't seem to be that big of a deal. The funeral procession was on foot. At the head of the group was the casket with about 6 pallbearers. Behind that was an assortment of friends and family and a band which played as we processed up the mountain to the gravesite. At several points during the trek, we paused for some reason which remains unknown to me, as we were closer toward the back of the procession and couldn't really hear well. When I say trek, I mean it really was a trek. Part of the way we were walking through the cemetery, trying not to step on graves, even though at times there was only about a six-inch wide strip of grass on which to walk. The other part we were walking on dirt paths carved into the side of the mountain. But always up. Steeply up. After we had climbed nearly the whole way up the mountain, we reached the gravesite, a hole in the red-brown Peruvian soil. The Catholic minister who was there prayed some ritual prayers, then Pastor Ruben, the head of the Mennonite churches, prayed a prayer for the family as well. Each of the children who wanted to shared some final words in tribute to their father. Then, they were given some time to say a final goodbye before the casket was lowered into the ground with ropes. Shovels and picks were produced from somewhere and the grave was filled in. Many people had brought flowers and threw them into the grave, burying them between the layers of dirt. Various people helped to fill in the grave, including the children. And then we all went back down the mountain, where we were able to give our sympathy to the family (which is hard enough in English, let alone Spanish). There was no set time for anyone to leave. There was soda and chicha (traditional corn beer) and everyone just kind of stood or sat around and talked, leaving when they wanted to.
Death here is definitely a normal part of life. Yes, it's sad. That transcends cultures. But it is recognized as something normal we will all face some day. No need to dress up for a funeral. No way to avoid it and sterilize yourself from human emotion or experience. No neatly going on your way while the funeral director lowers the casket into the grave. And no denying that life goes on after the body is in the ground. We were standing around afterwards talking and laughing about various things that had nothing to do with the funeral whatsoever.
And so I am here. In life, in faith, in joy, in sorrow, for better or for worse. And God is here. He is in the stuff of life. He is in the faith of the Peruvian believers, in the experience of death, in the details of everyday life, in the joyful exuberant smiles of the kids I've begun to get to know, in the relationships that are being formed and strengthened. God is here. And that is beautiful.