The Light of Life

I just returned from Christmas in Peru. We spent a week delivering gifts to fatherless children and wrapping arms around those who rarely receive embraces. I came home to Christmastime hustle and bustle with traffic jams, crowded malls, and endless parties. In the midst of the persistent Christmas tunes and twinkling, festive lights, I find myself lost in the high mountains of Peru, the strong sun beating down on my forehead and the cool breeze rippling across the grass. 

High in the clouds, 14,000 feet up in the air, oxygen was scarce, clean water couldn't be found for miles, and evidences of modern technology were slim. Yet there was so much life. Vibrant hats and shawls bobbed through the fields chasing after little ones. Hands spun new threads, laughter echoed in the valley, animals stirred in the pasture, and the bright sun never ceased shining down in its strength.


Down in the city, the same sun cascaded on the hilltops and produced colors I have never seen before. 

Our group never stopped moving. Two locations a day, eight days in a row - it was a whirlwind, and to be honest it was exhausting. But every morning and afternoon when we pulled into a new orphanage or home, I heard words that shook me and awakened me to the significance of this group of strangers visiting children so far from home, just to show them a little piece of love over Christmas.

They probably thought we were strange. They probably thought we were typical Americans. But in their hearts, they knew there was something more. "Why would these people come from so far, just to see us?"

The forgotten children, the hopeless sons, the abused daughters - even if just for an hour, we got to show them that they are not forgotten, that they are loved, that they have a name.

I watched intently as a young man with special needs slowly opened the backpack he had been given. One by one, he took out each item and carefully inspected his new gifts - a t-shirt, a hat that fit just right, and some really cool shades. The delight on his sweet face was a look I will store away and treasure deep in my heart.  Such a small gift - so simple, yet so appreciated and enjoyed by this young man who has little in this world to call his own.  

Each child's name was called out one at a time, and they came up to receive their gift. Some skipped in excitement, some charged forward in eagerness and zeal, some quietly walked with their heads hung low. Gratitude and thankfulness were always expressed with the uniqueness of each child's personality. 

A home full of teenage moms. Exploitation, absent fathers, so much hurt. The beautiful girls received their gifts with humility and excitement. After an afternoon of nail-painting, crafts, and Bible stories, a bubbly, new-found friend I had made whispered to me as we were leaving: "I always like when your group comes, not just because of the gifts, but because it shows that you remember us and know we are still here."

Scattered across Peru, hidden in the crowds of the city or forgotten in the remote highlands above, children long for better lives - stronger families, unconditional love, someone who remembers.

Some have answered the call. Caretakers have given their lives to care for children as their own. Selfless workers persevere through screams, cries, and long days. Saints answer the children's heart-wrenching questions of "Why me?" One noble man sold everything he had, moved to Peru, and devoted his entire life to finding troublesome boys on the streets and giving them a home. Twenty-five years later, I could not hold back my tears as the voices of those now equipped, kind, and thriving boys joined together in a mighty anthem of their proud home - a place where they are united, cared for, and given a new start. 


In the dismal circumstances permeating the country of Peru, there were moments of promise, reminders of the work God is accomplishing among people He created, small glimpses of light. 

After growing up in an orphanage, one young woman set out to start life on her own. With rent bills piling up and costs for college tuition looming, she sought another job but things fell through. At the end of her rope, just when she felt hopeless and was about to give up, she received an invitation to join a Buckner transition home. It was hundreds of miles from her small, rural hometown, but in her desperation she decided with only a moment's notice to leave behind her old life and start fresh in a new city. As she stood in her new room recounting her recent story to me, tears filled her eyes and she explained with much emotion and gratitude, "Buckner was like a bright light in my life when I needed it most. It has given me a second chance."

In the midst of my exhaustion and fatigue, I saw the light of hope filling a country of despairing hearts. For some, children were given mothers, friends became sisters, and the family that each child deserves and yearns for was established. Still, there are so many in need of love, care, attention, and the smallest of gifts.

But even in the depths of the valleys and the desolate corners of the cities, the hot Peruvian sun still shines bright. 

"In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:4

Smiles of the Earth

I'm in Saudi Arabia and just spoke with an American man who lives here but grew up in Arizona and lived in Dallas for a time. Yes, this world is small. There's also a man next to me who breathlessly stumbled onto the plane with mad eyes and tangled hair. His whiskey snores are puttering from his exhausted mouth, and he's spilling into my seat.


By the time I touch down on American soil again, I'll have been on four continents in 24 hours. The world has shrunk. People are everywhere. And everywhere is so different, but everywhere is the same.

A mother near me is bouncing her baby. His toothless smile is overwhelming his tiny face. I've seen many grins like that this week, painted on the faces of every type of person, painted on the face of humanity.
 
Children ran, arms were flung, hugs held tight - the repeated moment I treasured over and over this week. Mothers curled their lips in pride, carefully watching their beloved little ones play. Hard working men teased and elbowed in jest with each other, with deep creases rolling across their worn eyes as their stained teeth peered out from behind dark skin. Friends prayed, calling out to a mighty God. Laborers wept in satisfaction of their work.

Smiles.

The city was full of dirt. There are buildings, there were people - but when does it become a city? There were also shacks, donkeys, and rickshaws. But the city bustles. Men compete in the market. Traffic piles together. Drivers hold hands as patient road rage protects each attentive driver brushing against danger in the midst of traffic chaos. Order and rules are mocked. Yet still... 

Friendly smiles. Enemy friends.

 

The countryside stands quiet. Still air invites simplicity. Life is not a race, it's not a competition. It's day by day, it's simple, and it's full of beauty. A bus load of foreign faces pummeled through the stillness and unsettled the ground, yet faces grinned and arms vigorously waved. Children, families - possessing thatched homes, livestock, and the freedom of the earth. They own nothing but the world, and the earth has become them. Earth and flesh find no separation. Feet are mud, and the earth travels with the children.
 

Their smiles fill the earth.

The best smile of the week was in the poor, sad eyes of the very last child to receive a new pair of shoes. Quietly, patiently, the child watched in silence and respect as each of his friends received new shoes - no expectation or entitlement, yet clearly filled with all hope for his own possession. Head bowed low, a thank you was given only through eyes that darted up in delight then scuffled off with clomping new shoes. Another child strutted to friends, proud to model his new pair.
 

Giggles, gratefulness, grins - all filling up a room with smiles of every sort.
 

A tear smile rolled down the cheek of a man bent at the foot of a child, wiping away the filth of the earth. Jesus' smile. His love poured out.

These people are nothing like me, but they are human. We love, we find hope, and we smile. 

And this small earth is where we all call home.

Freedom

 

 

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free, so let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. Choose life that you might LIVE. The Lord commanded us to obey all these decrees and to fear God for OUR GOOD always, and to preserve our lives. For we will be counted righteous when we obey all the commands the Lord has given us: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways. Hear and be careful to do my commands, that it may go well with you, for I have come that you may have life, and have it abundantly.”

 

O Lord, I have called on your name from the depths of the pit, and you heard my plea. You came near when I called and told me not to fear. You have taken up my cause and redeemed my life. You have brought me out of darkness into your marvelous light. Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Whoever believes in you will not be put to shame. My guilt is taken away, and you let me forget the shame of my youth.

 

I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved perfection, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward. I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ. He is my portion, therefore I will hope in Him.

 

In running with perseverance the race marked out for us, God will generously provide all we need, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, we may abound in every good work. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God. Your grace is sufficient for us, and you are able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to your power at work within us. For your divine power is made perfect in weakness and has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness. You equip us with everything good that we may do your will. We partake in Christ's divine nature, and through faith with virtue, we are kept from being ineffective and unfruitful in the knowledge of Christ. May we be filled with the knowledge of your will so that we will walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to you and bearing fruit in every good work. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!!

The Empire

The empire. It rules with a hard fist. It dominates and conquers. It grows and produces; it lives and lives on.

Every year there's a new harvest, but the worst storms never bring famine. Hunger maybe, but only for a time. Resilience is a powerful soil.

The harvests began years ago, when the past was the present, old things were new, and dreams weren't mist. A city was laid. A city built by the hands of dreamers.

Bleeding hands and sweating brows of the determined formed the infrastructure of progress and hope. Our family - who turned on their villages, flags, kin, and lovers - erected a child on wobbly knees, who they only hoped would later learn to walk firm and fierce as an adult.

Endless labor and stars within reach, their vision was secured. They fought for their dream, they strained and bruised for the sake of a future, for life, for quality. But quality and breath were not theirs. They forsook the familiar and the ease for the sake of their children, and children's children, and... me.

Comfort, knowledge, convenience, efficiency, opportunity and wealth unimaginable - now not at my fingertips but in my hands, filling my fists and spilling over.

Mine, ours. Real, full life - lived out as the dream of fighters, those sweat-stained laborers and dreamers.
The city carries on. Life IS, all the more. Man has become one, everyone leveled together.

The wheel spins. The grapes burst on the vine. Mortality - humanity - has never seemed so close.

So many sights, sounds, smells. So real, so rich. Suffocating and drowning, yet enticing and drawing. The world grins indifference at each one and bears its terrible white bite at existence. Soft daylight beckons skepticism and the darkness of night reveals all.
 
New York - The city where mortality presents itself boldly and greets men warmly on streets. The sirens, the shrill piercing. The mysterious closed doors and sterile white staircases. The stars falling from the morning sky. The growling dogs. Always the unspoken fear, the apprehension secretly and quietly wrapping up the human heart, trumpeting around as determination, masquerading as a fight for the future. Real terrors, nightmares come alive, on top of dreams come true. A gnawing suspicion, uniting each stranger, yet distancing them in the grand moments of freedom when eyes lock and gazes hold fast, only for a brief instant, then furtively return to the world of independence and conquering.

Dragon devours dragon, and eagle befriends mouse. All are enemies, yet all war together.
Life, sleep, war - all conquered together as one.

The city of dreams, the city of the world, with no space to see it. No room to enjoy it. Best friends, neighbors, sidewalk-sharers - all together, all on the island, reaching out to the stars for space.
 
The ends of the earth have found their home together, every corner whispering new opportunities. There is no want. The world is here. The only place left to go is up.