Human Subjectivity and the Judgement of Others

Hello friends, let me share with you a short reflection that I wrote for one of my classes. There are some things that I did not explain for they are related to the class but still I hope you can get something from it.
God bless!
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In the same line of my reflection last week, this week I would like to ponder on an issue that has called my attention for some time now and, I believe, is not isolated from our study of the history and polity of the Church of the Nazarene. I am talking about the issue of human subjectivity, especially as present in the lives of religious people.

In my walking with the Lord I have been amazed when people in church sometimes display attitudes that, to my opinion, do not agree with their profession of faith. In those times I have felt affected and honestly disappointed. However, what has scared me the most is when I find out that I myself am doing things that are completely reproachable to others, and many times I had not even noticed!

I am not trying to justify human deliberate sin but I do feel an obligation to express my belief in the humanity of those who form the church. I may not totally agree with Chinese believers who registered their churches under a communist government, white Christians who created a special district for black Christians or “the people of God” displacing Armenian believers out of their home. However, what is really significant is the approach that we have toward situations like that. When we are quick to judge others we usually do so by measuring them through our personal standards and understanding of the faith. We humans are subjective; and we ministers should be especially aware of such condition.

Therefore, the real question is, “do we have authority to judge our neighbor?” And if we do, “what is the parameter by which we judge?” These questions demand answers much deeper than what I can treat in this short reflection; but I must declare my conviction that we are not to judge but to help those who are around us. Some may be tempted to say that both, helping and judging carry within themselves a sense of superiority over our neighbors. I would say that indeed a hierarchy is required when we try to combat human subjectivity; but it is not us who position ourselves above the other (for also us are subjective beings). Rather, we are merely carriers of the Word and the Christian faith and that is our parameter to tell acceptable from unacceptable.

I think we are to stand firmly against those things that clearly oppose God’s revelation but I also think that our attitude should be that of Jesus Christ. It is not about pointing fingers at each other, but rather about reaching out to God with one hand and to our brother or sister with the other one. Subdued to our subjective humanity, our only option is to depend on God’s eternal objectiveness that enables us, through grace, to be tools of His peace in this world. When God is above us, all of us, then we will be able to see the beam in our eye and stop pointing at the speck in our neighbor’s eye.

"I'm reaching out a needful hand..." - Jars of Clay

Short reflection on the re-creation of a relational God

In my last Systematic Theology class something that really caught my attention was the fact of the “pre-history” of Jesus. I confess that in my mind I was trying to compress his life in a mysterious state as Spirit, a noble life as human and a future return as king. However, I did not connect all of these roles as part of one single story. It is overwhelming to realize that in fact the incarnation of Jesus was not last-minute improvisation but instead a plan traced from the very moment of the fall. Now, if God took this issue so seriously, then what was lost in the fall was equally important and significant for him. I cannot help but wonder, “what is it that led God to do what he has done for humanity?”

I knew from theory that our relationship with him was broken, I have even preached about it. However, all of this became more meaningful to me when I realized that this is not just the repairing of something old… this is the establishment of a new creation! Thank God, now I am conscious that my re-creation has started with Jesus’ sacrifice and his power in my life. I also understand that to be imago Dei implies that I am also imago trinitatis; More than a moral ability or capacity to reason what makes us human is the possibility to love and be loved.

Nevertheless, I must recognize that according to the canons of my culture I am not the most sociable person –in fact my mom would say that I am more of a hermit; but even in that I can see some advantages. Due to my lack of dexterity to establish relationships –clear consequence of my social atomization– I surely appreciate the fact that God came to me, to us. History already taught us that we would be surely lost if the endeavor of reestablishing our relational potential would depend just on our human attempts. From the very first animal that died in Eden to the Holy Lamb of God sacrificed in the cross, everything is pointing to a triune God who is willing to do it all so that we can understand that we were made to be in relationship with him and the rest of creation.

What is it that led God to do what he has done for humanity? I certainly cannot give a definite answer; but something tells me that it has to do with a garden and a love story that will not end until everyone can live happily ever after.

The Diverse Unity

NOTE: I know I have not updated this blog in loooong time. I do not have an excuse but it is enough to say that is hard for me to find time when I have to work, study and keep a relationship. All in all, I have several articles and notes that I thought it would be nice to share here. This one was published in 2010 in Engage Magazine and you can see the original version here. I will try to update more often, for definitely a blog is a good way to release stress and express yourself.

I remember the first time that I left my country. I was 18 and I was going to study at the South American Nazarene Theological Seminary in Quito, Ecuador. In my mind I knew that this trip would be a great change; however, I never thought that I would find strong cultural differences in a country that is right next to my home country of Colombia.

When the bus got far from Bogota I started seeing people wearing different clothes than those from my city. The changes were more obvious when I crossed the border and entered Ecuador. Sellers offered me “cola” (that to me meant “butt”), while showing me a Coca-Cola bottle. When I finally arrived to the seminary my roommate greeted me with some words that I have never heard before. I remember after that special greeting we spent several hours discussing the meaning of words that were usual for one but unknown for the other.

A year later I went to Venezuela. This time I was ready to learn new words. But I was not ready to live on an “Arepa” (kind of a thick tortilla) and “Caraota” (black beans) diet. Neither was I ready to find Caribbean rhythms as the “Gaita” in Maracaibo. Furthermore, most of the people talked so loud that sometimes it seemed like they were angry. After a few weeks in there I realized that the hot weather helps them to be much more spontaneous than citizens of Andean cities like Bogota or Quito.

When I was 22 I went from Ecuador to Peru. This time I found it easier to endure differences. Given that Peru is world famous for its gastronomy, I had the chance to eat all kinds of food, from Peruvian “Cebiche” (fish cooked just with lemon) to Jungle Zuri (the larva of a beetle that Awajun indigenous people shared with me).

Lastly, this year I came to Argentina as part of my ministry assignment. In the trip from Bogotá to Buenos Aires I had a layover in Brazil. I did not know how to talk in Portuguese. In fact, I used to think that Portuguese was a “badly-spoken Spanish.” But when the authorities of the airport asked me lots of questions that I could not understand, I realized that a language is too complex and rich to be ridiculed. After several hours stuck in Sao Paulo airport –and after discovering abilities like that of a mime–I arrived in Argentina.

What a surprise! There were blonde, white people all over the place. I almost thought I was in Europe! Later, when I talked to Argentines I noticed that the topics where rather the same: meat and soccer. Delicious Argentine beef and passion for football are two things they are pretty proud about. One afternoon I was eating one of those good steaks when a young man came to me and kissed me… Yes! He kissed me! That moment I learned from experience that Argentine men kiss each other to greet.

Well, I could keep on telling stories, some of them funny, other ones embarrassing. I could tell you about my trip to Uruguay and how everyone drinks a hot beverage called “mate.” However, what I really want you to know is that my vision of the world has changed. Just five years ago I used to think that my city, my culture and my expressions of faith were the only ones. Now I can surely say that Christianity through Latin America is as rich and diverse as each one of its inhabitants. Here in my continent I have been able to worship with hymns, harps and electric guitars. In spite of our differences there is something that keeps us united. We are one in Christ. For the Church is a big family and our nationality cannot change the fact that we need to know God more and more.

In each one of the places where I have been, I have seen people drowning in a life without God. Once and again I see children growing up in a violent environment, women trying to get by and frustrated men who cannot get a job. So we are also one in our pain. We are one in our essential need: Latin American people need God!

Diversity of contexts, weathers and dialects cannot hide our urgency: We need people committed to the propagation of the Gospel in word and action. I wonder if you would be the one taking a Bible and riding the bus to spread the Word in my continent? The invitation is already made.

Women are also human after all

I rejoice when I see you blooming, I just wish more people could feel like that…

I have always been surrounded by women. As some of you know I grew up living with my mom and my sister and that is why I kind of know the customs of women since I was a kid. Some years later in my teen years I started being interested in women. But that was obviously a hormonal interest; all of a sudden I just liked them… they were all so pretty

Then when I was finally overcoming puberty,  I developed a scientific interest in women. I wanted to understand, in a logical way, why were they different from men. Should I say that I didn’t get a lot out of that endeavor?

But some years ago, and even more now, I am really interested in the heart of women. I mean, I really want to know and be sensitive to how a woman thinks and feels. If you are a man and you are reading this, let me tell you that so many times we just ignore the profound differences between them and us. If you are a woman and you are reading this, let me tell you that although I do not understand you completely (and I will never do); I am trying hard to know your heart, your needs and be a better man, a better friend, a better brother in Christ.

It is not my intention to write a lot in this entry. I just want to share two things.

1. A short post that my girlfriend wrote in her blog concerning the heart of women.
2. A song from one of my favorite artists, Fernando Delgadillo. This song really makes think of a lot of loved women (…) I pray you can feel the sun someday. I translated the song, so there might be some weird words, but please try to catch the essence of it.

Cuento
(Tale)

Nació una flor

A flower was born

fragante y pura en el Jardín del Sol.

fragrant and pure in the Garden of Sun

Bajó sus pétalos rosados que temblaron

It lowered its pink petals that shivered

humectados al audaz suspiro del albor.

moisturized with the bold sigh of dawn.

¡Oh sensación que es florecer!

What a sensation that is to bloom!

y habló la envidia de otra flor mayor:

and the envy of an older flower spoke:

“No dejes que te mire nunca el sol

“Do not ever let the sun to look at you,

la estrella ufana en el ardiente albor

that proud star in the burning dawn.

Porque te debes a tu encierro

Because you owe yourself to your confinement

y no hay ninguno digno de

and there is no one else worthy of

aspirar tu encanto, tu candor

breathing your enchantment, your innocence;

así te digo, pequeña flor”.

This I tell you, little flower.”

Creció la flor

The flower grew up

y fue delicia del jardín del sol

and was a delight of the Garden of Sun

pero envainada en su capullo

but encased in its bud

por la duda y el orgullo

because of the doubt and pride

que intentara abrir la vieja flor.

that the old flower tried to create.

¡Oh tentaciones!

Oh temptations!

La flor, tembló:

The flower trembled:

“¡Qué sola y vana era la vida hasta hoy!

“How lonely and vain is life till now!

No hay nada aparte de esa voz y yo

There is nothing besides that voice and I

si todo es malo, ¿por qué nací flor?

If everything is bad, Why was I born as a flower?

¿por qué soy triste y transparente?

Why am I sad and transparent?

¿por que zozobra mi razón?

Why is my reason anxious?

¿por que oigo trinos tan risueños

que ruboran mis empeños

de guardarme virginal de sol, de sol?

Why do I hear such smiling tweets

that make blush my efforts to keep myself

sun-virgin? Oh sun!

Y entonces

And then

fue que el sol vertió en cascadas

the sun poured down in streams

la ternura y un calor, enamorado

the tenderness and a heat; in love,

en la caricia de su rayo.

in the caress of its ray.

¡Tibia luz de un beso en mayo!

Warm light of a kiss in May!

Pero al mismo tiempo fue el secreto

But at the same time it was the secret

que se cuenta despacito

slowly told

al oído de mi amor

in the ear of my love.

A ti mi flor,

To you my flower,

mi niña pura, cálida canción

my pure girl, warm song

Porque te quiero

y los temores que sembraron

viejas flores en tu pecho se perdieron,

Because I love you

and the fears that old flowers sowed

in your chest are gone,

poco a poco,

little by little,

con cansada y triste voz

with a tired and sad voice.

Porque invoco la ternura que

Because I summon the tenderness

se inventa con mi amor;

created with my love;

porque quiero florecer contigo

Because I want to bloom with you

siempre en el jardín del sol

Always in the Garden of Sun.

We’re human after all.

On the lack of teardrops and the importance of honesty

Grieving without tears is like shouting without voice…

It’s obvious that I have not written in a long time. There are just too much things going in my life. I had a lot of drafts, but I never published anything… Maybe it was not the time, or I wanted to be silent.

After my last post, I traveled to Argentina and now I’ve been here for more than two months. I am about to complete three months with Janary as my girlfriend and it has been a blessing indeed. I am also facing the consequences of being in a different culture. They call it cultural shock, and it’s not good at all. Sometimes I feel like I would like to return to other places where I feel more comfortable, but then I remember that it was God who brought me here, at least that’s what I believe. All in all, I am blessed. I am learning, teaching, living in a pretty neat place, earning some money, somehow it feels like I’m an adult now.

Nonetheless, there are nights like this one, when I feel lonely and sad. Today was an intense day. I listened to some words that really hurt me. Things that I needed to know but I definitely didn’t want to hear. So here I am now, typing in my bed and wondering why I cannot cry when I want to. It’s been such a long time since the last time I cried (now, there are times when my eyes get wet and a few teardrops say hi coming out of them; but cry like CRY is something different). I remember when I was a child, back then I cried; but then I grew up or maybe I should say, they made me grow up. I learned how to hold the pain, how to seem like everything’s fine when it’s not. This is one of those days when I would love to cry but I can’t.

As I was sitting on the plastic chair some minutes ago, I tried to cry but my eyes only got wet again. And this time, not a single tear said hi to me. Crying really helps to let go, but it seems like I forgot how to let go. This is one of those days, when I want to feel God closer than ever. When I want to be the witness of a miracle, God looking at my tears and telling me that everything is fine and I’ll be okay.

But not everything is so wrong. Again I remembered how important honesty is to me. I like straightforward people. I like it when I listen to someone and I know that I can trust him. On the other hand, I hate it when they lie to me although I already know the truth, or when I have to ask questions that I shouldn’t be asking just to get the answer that I didn’t want to hear.

I was checking my e-mail and I found this interesting quote by Fletcher Spruce:

“God, help me to tell just the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in such a way and with such timing as to be honest and winsome, too.”

I realized that telling the truth is not just a matter of honesty but of timing as well. I can be honest when I am exposed, but then my honesty becomes just a way of accepting my mistakes. When we wait too long, that thing that could have helped others, can really get to hurt them.

As for now, I am going to sleep and I pray that tomorrow will be a new day, filled with the presence of the Lord and His Holy Spirit teaching me how to be a vessel for glory…

As for now, I want to think no more and just trust that I am going to get over this, that my sleep is going to help me ease this pain away.

"This is me and my circumstances"

I’m falling in love with a dancing pastor…

I’d go to the other side of the world just to be with you…

I’ve been praying for a girlfriend long time ago. But as I said before I am kind of picky. I know what I have to give and I don’t want to give it to someone who doesn’t appreciate it. Something is happening in my life lately. I met a girl, her name is Janary. I met her through the internet in a rather peculiar way. A friend of mine told me, “I just remembered you mentioned about wanting to be in a serious relationship. I have a suggestion. You might wanna add this friend of mine. Get to know her. Be good to her okay, she’s special.” I thought that was funny but still I gave it a try. I talked to Janary without thinking too much about the future.

When I saw her facebook profile, I noticed that this girl had almost ten blogs and around 2000 friends. I thought: “She has a lot of free time;” But actually not. She was a pastor, an MDiv. student and a good friend to the people around her. She liked photography, she had a clear called to ministry, etc. But what I liked the most, she was praying and waiting for a holy man to respect her and love her. In times like these ones, it is hard to find a holy woman fighting against temptation and keeping herself pure. Janary was just like that.

As I said before, I do not believe in love at first sight. But I do believe that when you get to know a person, you can easily see if you could be in love with that person. That was what happened with Jana. When I talked to her I knew I was not talking with a silly girl who thinks she is too spiritual to live and love this world. Instead, Jana was human. She loved, she hurt, she cried, she hoped; and among all of her defects, she knew that the Lord was working in her life. I do not believe in love at first sight; but I do believe in God answering to my prayers. Janary fills my cup up. Sometime ago I thought I’ve found a girl who fitted my expectations. Then I realized that all of my expectations were a mere copy of my own personality. When I talked to this girl, I felt like talking to myself. She was a wonderful woman, but we didn’t complement each other. I do not want to have a relationship with my twin, I need someone different; and Janary is like that. She likes sports, she is outgoing, loves dancing and goes out with friends all of the time. She told me she wanted a muscular man, who could drive his car and pick her up. Well… those of you who know me, can notice that I am anything but that. But God is funny sometimes.

I’m falling in love with this girl and the more I know her, the more I like her. I always thought of long distance relationships as something stupid. There’s a saying in Latin America: “Amor de lejos, amor de pendejos.” I couldn’t give a literal translation but it’d be something like: “Long distance love, big dumbness love.” However, this time I feel God guiding me and I know that He is trying to teach me something. He is trying to teach us something. We have more questions than answers in this moment, but this is our creative God and we just want to please Him.

I praise the Lord for Janary’s life. I praise Him because he is funny and original. And I just pray that He may guard our hearts as we try to obey him.

Thanks for being “here” Janary.

Reflections on a picture

That fatty boy brought good memories to me.

My father is a 46 years old Colombian man. Although he is not a Christian I wouldn’t say he is a bad man. He is very kind, works a lot and tries to please everyone. Today he came to my house and we spent a good time along with my sister. He said: “Ánderson, I got something to show you.” I looked at the small plastic bag that he was holding in his hand. Then he took out a piece of paper. The piece of paper was in fact a Christmas letter with a picture of me. I was so surprised! And the reason to be surprised is that this Christmas letter was sent from my parents (yes, mom and dad) to an aunt of mine, 21 years ago! Yes it was me when I was just 1 ½ years old. I looked at the picture and honestly… I was so fat!

I know that everyone says that babies are beautiful… Well, I think they are cute, they are full of tenderness and they touch our heart with their innocence; but, beautiful? No, I don’t think so. A baby is normally fat and smells funny. More than that, they move strangely slow and tighten their face as if they were pooping all of the time… Actually, they are pooping all of the time. They’re eating-pooping machines…

Anyway, this is not the point of this entry. Back to my picture. I thought of how different I am now. Not only that, I realized that we all are different. An interesting conversation arose from that picture. There I was talking to my 46 years old dad. We talked about the past times. We talked about how he is getting bald. He is always saying “look at my head, new hair is growing”. But that is like a joke for us, we both know that there is not new hair growing. We both know that each day we are growing older. I am not the fatty boy from the picture. He is not the hairy man he was back then.

My father's bald head, someday I'll be like that

That made me thought of my family. Life has changed. As I write this I am watching at my father looking at the picture with a sad look in his eyes. My mother is sitting next to him, they are friends but there is not romantic love between them anymore. They are talking about my girlfriend (Yes, God brought her to me J; but that deserves another blog entry) and they are saying that it is going to be weird if I get married in Asia. My sister is sitting next to me and I know she is thinking of her boyfriend. She is waiting for her cell phone to ring. And here I am, wondering how we’ll be in 21 years.

I am amazed at how the Lord brought Jana (my girlfriend) to my life. I am amazed at how different I am from the boy in the picture. I am sure nobody thought I would get this far; and I am also sure that God has prepared even better things for me and for the ones I love. My parents feel lonely and I know it. But there are times like this one when we are a family after all. I just pray that 21 years from now I can have someone by my side. Someone who loves me even though I lost my hair (yes, I also have the bald genes). I pray that someday I can see the pictures of my fatty child and rejoice because my life was good.

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things”
1 Corinthians 13:11

This is me… this was me