Feliz Nochebuena

Shannon decorates our Christmas tree.

The classical guitarist brushed his hand over the strings and the lush, poignant sounds of "What Child Is This" reverberated through the sanctuary. My ears perked up, waiting, wishing...and suddenly the guitarist flicked his hand back and and the music took on an Andalusian flavor. YES!
"This is my people's music," I whispered to my friend Kelsey. Little accents of my beloved Spain are sweet reminders of what I'm working toward. On this night of nights, I'm convicted to remember the reason why I want to go back to Spain. It's Jesus. And cliche as it might seem, it's all about Him. No more, no less.

Young and Educated in Europe, but Desperate...

A friend sent me this article yesterday.
Pray for the creeping hopelessness that seems to surround Europe, especially Spain. Economic improvement won't bring peace in people's hearts and rest for their souls. Only Christ can.

"Where did you learn English?"

The question took me aback, and I almost spilled the coffee I was pouring for her. I straightened up and looked at Esther, the wife of one of the Colombian church planters. I laughed and explained that I was American. Her eyes widened in surprise. After witnessing a conversation between her husband and me, she had simply assumed I was Spanish.
Busted.
Excited at being pegged as my favorite people group, my pride quickly took a tumble when I couldn't remember a correct verb tense.
Busted again. (Side note: Why is it so difficult for me to remember the preterite?)
As I inch along toward my goal of getting back to Spain, pray for the Lord' continual refining.

In fourteen hundred ninety-two...

Forgot to mention that today's a national holiday in Spain. Check it out!

Some Differences

After nearly a month back, I should comment on some of the everyday differences between the culture of my birth and the adopted culture of my heart.

Things I miss about Spain daily, in no particular order:

Never Retired, Just Re-Assigned

This article ran in this past Sunday's bulletin. Care for retired workers is a concern that's close to my heart because of my grandmother, who served more than 55 years with BCM.

Splendid Salamanca

I left Barcelona on Thursday and took a nearly seven hour train trip down to Lorca, a town named for the famous poet Federico García Lorca. My objective? To see my Spanish family, the pastor and his wife and son I worked with in 2008 at the children's camp in Águilas.
During the train ride I was confronted with the dichotomies of Spain: Muslim immigrants from North Africa with fussing small children, the stereotypical sunburned retired Brits on holiday criticizing our four-minute lateness in loud English, and the rest of humanity plopped in seats, alternately fanning themselves, watching the subtitled movie, snoozing, or reading. As we raced through Valencia and into Murcia province, I thought about how different each region is in Spain. Every part has a different dance, food, and/or cultural slant, not to mention regional dialects.
And then I opened my mouth.

On Re-entry

I know I'm blogging out of order (so much to tell about my Spanish family and an adventure to Salamanca!), but since I've been back for a little more than 36 hours depending on the time zone, I figured I'd share my thoughts on jumping back into this American life.
Aside from 2008, I think this is the hardest transition back. I can't spend too much time thinking during the day about Spain and my friends there or I start misting up. When co-workers asked me yesterday if I wanted to go back, it was all I could do to nod and try to smile. Fortunately, I'm in good company.
Last night the global outreach commission interviewed a couple going to South Asia. The husband started choking up while talking about the people they want to reach, and soon my eyes were welling up with tears too. Just seeing someone who has a burden for a country in the same way I do gave me a sense of peace and confirmation. For this I'm very thankful.
In the meantime, I've crash-landed back into work. With a little more than a month before GO Conference and a host of things on hold since I was gone, I'm scrambling to catch up. Pray I would be diligent as I cross tasks off my list.
And as always, please pray for Spain.

Hasta Pronto, Ruth!

Today is my last full day in Barcelona and I spent the majority of the time with Ruth. We watched some of the Catalonian festivities on the television (with great political commentary from Ruth, "eh, I don't like this guy...") and shared lunch at her house. She liked her Spain flag, though she said with a smirk that she dared not fly it outside lest she incur the wrath of the independentistas catalanes.
She told me more about her adventures, such as a much-treasured last-minute trip to Egypt. She is greatly afraid of the residencias (nursing homes) and told me at several points that she prays God will bring her home before she has to live there. She celebrates her 85th birthday this year.
We prayed before I left her apartment and she insisted I take an old umbrella before stepping outside. "Don't get wet!" she said, with all the care of a concerned auntie. I will treasure our time of fellowship and I hope I get to see her again soon.

Ok, I like you too, Barça.

Tomorrow, 11 September, is a national holiday in Catalunya. Already folks are putting out flags, whether the independence movement's design or the "official" ones. I must admit that I've enjoyed listening to Miss Ruth, a staunch Madrileña, scoff at the independent flags and count the Spain flags hanging from the buildings. I plan to surprise her tomorrow morning with a small Spain flag for her apartment.
Today I had lunch with Chery, an MTW worker in the Poblenou neighborhood. She's helping with a national church plant and facilitating small groups. She gave a good yet honest view of a worker's life and a taste of opportunities in Spanish urban ministry.
Though completely different in many ways from Madrid, I have to say that Barcelona is starting to grow on me. I'm having a difficult time trying to comprehend Catalán, though! I manage about three words and I drop back into Castilian.
One of the most exciting things in Barcelona is the work that Miss Ruth's pastor, Ricardo Cerni, is spearheading. More than fifty years ago Cerni started a translation work that has mushroomed into equipping pastors all over the Spanish-speaking world with all sorts of ministry books. The first manuscript translated was the Heidelberg Catechism. Since then, he and his team have translated Calvin's Institutes, numerous commentaries, and recently finished a new Bible Translation, la Biblia Textual.
When I visited the church on Sunday, Pastor Cerni opened a small door and I was suddenly in a warehouse, with shrink-wrapped hardbacks piled everywhere on pallets. A stack of brown paper packages bore addresses for Cuba, Colombia, even a pastor in Mesquite, Texas. The books are provided for free, since Pastor Cerni says the greatest need for pastors is to be educated on systematic theology. He says that in Spain (and by extension, the Hispanic world) church teaching is very shallow because pastors haven't been trained in how to preach the Word and apply it to their context.
Cerni himself has had quite the journey in pursuing God's call. Growing up, the only way to take advantage of youth activities was to join the Falange youth organizations. So he did, though he certainly wasn't of the Francoist persuasion.
Interestingly, Cerni commented that Protestant Christians were caught in the middle during the Spanish Civil War by virtue of the fact that they couldn't side with the Nationalists, yet siding with the Republicans was against their beliefs, though many did because they thought it could guarantee freedom of religion.
As a young man, Cerni said he went through a time of rebellion in France, then quite suddenly came to the Lord and ended up attending Bible school in Glasgow. (Yo, Liam!) As he began teaching English, which he has done for more than thirty years, his translation and book work grew. He met his wife, Alicia, in the Barcelona church, and they have four grown children.
Tomorrow is my last visit with Ruth and on Thursday I leave for Águilas by train. ¡Anda!

Miss Ruth

I´d like to devote an entire post to Ruth de la Mata, since she is the reason this trip came to be. I arrived in Barcelona on Friday, and her pastor graciously picked me up from the train station. Pastor Cerni also has his own fascinating story, so I´ll detail that later.
Ruth lives in a modest apartment in the Gràcia neighborhood. She and I spent an entire day catching up.
Tenth has supported Ruth since she and her partner in ministry (and really, a mother to her, she says), María Bolet, were introduced to Dr. Barnhouse in the sixties.
Ruth´s actual name is Rosario, but María changed it when a girl commented, "You're the only evangelical I've ever met with such a Catholic name!" So that was the end of that!
As is common with many her age, the Spanish civil war greatly affected Ruth's life. Her father died when she was only seven. She and her mother lived in Madrid and would go out to look for food once the "dreaded buzzing of airplanes stopped." As a young adult, she worked first in securities, then eventually María recruited her for work in the Bible school that she started. Because of Franco´s crackdown on non-Catholics, they moved everything to Tangier in 1953. It´s hard to think of Morocco as a center for religious freedom, but in that time it was.
After a few years in Tangier, María contracted a form of malaria and on the advice of the doctors, they all moved the work to the Pyrenees. Soon after, they began work at la Granja, a farm in a more westerly rural portion of Spain. There they continued with Bible clubs, camps and youth events. In fact, the work begun by Ruth and María continues there today. After some years, though, María's illness persisted and it was recommended that she retire in Barcelona. Ruth went with her to care for her and refused to be recalled to la Granja. "I couldn't leave María by herself," she said. So she took a job in the evangelical hospital in Barcelona, first as a receptionist, then in administration. On the Saturday that I visited her, we walked around the different hospital wards and Ruth greeted all the nurses we encountered. She said she has enjoyed many opportunities to share the gospel in that job.
María went home to be with the Lord in 1992 and Ruth still misses her greatly. Now retired, Ruth stays active in the church, Iglesia Reformada Presbiteriana. On Sunday she stood up to give the reading from Isaiah 51:1-6.
Please pray for our dear Miss Ruth. She scrapes by on social security from the hospital, but that income is again threatened by the austerity cuts. Tenth (and the Lord, she says!) is her only other support. But she is steadfast in her faith and couldn't stop talking about God's goodness to her through the years. What a testimony to God's faithfulness!

Madrid, te quiero

The first four days in Madrid went so quickly!
My second day I got to meet Craig and Becky, plus SEND´s newest addition, Jaime, for breakfast. It was great to catch up and see how the work is going. It made me think of how God´s going to use the next few years. I have a lot to pray about.
My friend Alex and I trekked all over the city: Prado, Reina Sof'ía, the Malasaña and Chueca neighborhoods, and an unplanned adventure after a misstep into a not-so-great neighborhood which culminated in us making a hasty exit via taxi. We ate well, whether at Mercado San Antón, Mercado San Miguél, or any of the teeny cafes we frequented. When it came time for me to leave for Barcelona on Friday morning, I felt a twinge that I hadn´t stayed longer. But Miss Ruth waited in Barcelona!
So after a nearly five hour train ride, where most of the journey I was in sight of the Mediterranean, I at last arrived in Barça.

La cuenta regresiva

My coworker Enrique, who is Colombian, taught me a new word this past week: cuenta regresiva. It means countdown. I'm certainly counting down the hours until I'm back in Spain.

I'm excited but a smidge nervous. What if I've lost so much fluency I can't effectively communicate? The thought of freezing up whilst talking with friends and strangers isn't pleasant, but I'm praying that God would be evident even in my tussles with Castilian.

So here I sit in transit, waiting with great expectation until I can board the plane and get my first glimpses of the buff-colored soil of my favorite meseta.

Until then...

On Long-Term Discipline

Discipline is tough. Long-term discipline is even harder.
Last night I debated with myself over getting takeout (spicy tuna sushi, mi amor!) because I wanted to save some pocket money for Spain. Simply telling myself that one takeout meal would equal nine (!) cafes con leche in Madrid wasn't sufficient. My will only goes so far, especially when it comes to sushi.
But I did end up cooking instead.
It sounds ridiculous, but I'm learning that the long term rests upon the small battles. Paul Tripp says we live our life in 10,000 little moments. Please continue to pray for the little moments leading up to this Spain trip and beyond. Step by step, I see God's leading.

Take a letter, Maria

I was excitedly telling a friend what I plan to do in Spain in September when he interrupted me. "Send a prayer letter."
I protested, saying that since it wasn't an "official" missions trip I needn't bother people. Prayer is a bother? My pride trips me up a lot.
Please pray for my time in Spain in September. Pray I would return with an ever-clearer vision of what God wants me to do as a worker. Pray He would meet my needs and help me to be prudent so I can be sent in His timing.

Papercutting for God

One of the more amusing parts of my job is the little side-tasks that spring up throughout the week. This week we needed to send 38 copies of a theology book to elders and deacons in Colombia. But since they were to be transported in a suitcase, the books needed to quickly lose weight. Thank goodness for our industrial-grade paper cutter! By slicing off the wide margins, the books were slim enough to travel.
One thing the Lord keeps teaching me is how little moments and interactions might not seem significant, but they can have a big impact.
So in this small moment, pray for Spain. :-)

Boomerang Back

I love booking flights. Because it's a part of my job at Tenth, I get to hunt down the best itineraries for short-term and career partners, pastors and other global outreach friends. Managing schedules, pricing and connections is a great puzzle challenge for me.
I booked my September tickets for Spain a few days ago and I'm extremely thankful because I managed to get them (with a little finagling) for less than half of the average price. My total trip cost will be less than $850. Between selling a few things on Ebay (prom dresses, anyone?), cutting my coffee spending and raising a little, I'm trusting God to provide for this venture.
So what will I be doing in September? Besides visiting Miss Rosario in Barcelona, I'm praying that God will give me a better sense of where he would place me in Spain. I also hope to visit the church in Águilas and catch up on the work there. If I have the opportunity to help with a conversational English group or something similar, I'll be happy to help with that, too.
Pray for me to move forward in wisdom and faith, fixing my eyes on Jesus. 

Holding Pattern

I recently moved to Fishtown, a section of Philadelphia. I like the quirks of the neighborhood and city life. Every day I can hear Spanish, Albanian and Mandarin during my commute on the El.
I'm returning, God willing, to Spain in September for about two weeks. I'll be visiting one of Tenth's retired global partners in Barcelona. It's going to be great to see Miss Rosario since we've written back and forth the last few months.
Otherwise, life continues in Philadelphia. I'm still intent on returning to Spain in a more permanent capacity, but in the Lord's timing. I can't believe that in June it will be five years ago that God started working in my heart when I arrived there for the first time. God is good.