Acabamos de arañar la superficie. (We just scratched the surface.)
It was our third day; we were weary - they kept coming. We served, examined and prayed with over 200 people, plus making home visits and walking the streets with scores of children. What a lesson in persistence - to have the same patience, compassion and intentionality in our prayers with patient #165, 190 that we did with #1, 10, 22.
The needs are real, unending and overwhelming - an 80 year old grandmother with 4 grandchildren and no food, a 49 year old mother of 6, with 3 grandchildren, who's been widowed 10 years and has no income (who offered me a bowl of rice when I visited!), three unemployed brothers, one in his 60s paralyzed by a stroke, one (maybe 45) who just lost a leg to diabetes, the younger (maybe 35 or 40) caring for the other two, everywhere young, single mothers with multiple children, no fathers and no work (many having given birth in the early teens). I could go on, and we just scratched the surface.
Everywhere in the DR there are baseball fields; Angelina is no different - no paved roads, no clean drinking water, no work, sparse medical care, the monotonous oppression of poverty - but there's baseball.
At lunch, after 20 kids hung around the church's side door and watched us eat our PB&J sandwiches, our team's young medical intern walked with me to the two fields; we were swamped by a dozen dirty children, holding our hands, running the bases, playing pretend baseball (I've got a mean slider!) and asking us questions. They all new one English word - "hungry"
"Tienen comida en sus casas?" Do you have food in your houses. They all shook their heads, no, so for less than $10.00 I bought them some food.
Anna, from the church, walked with me to a corner store, where we bought 5lbs. of rice, a pound of ham, some oil and two bags of beans, and we carried it all all to Olga, the 80 year old with all the kids. We gave her the food, prayed and walked back to the church/clinic. We had just scratched the surface.
We made house visits, cleaned and wrapped open, diabetic sores, dispensed medicine, prayed some more, pulled teeth, gave out clothes and glasses. Then we got on our bus and went back to our lodging. We had simply scratched the surface. We had our hot showers and two helpings of our hot meal, then had our evening service in our air conditioned meeting room.
We have three services tomorrow (starting at 6:30!) then two more days in another village filled with Haitians, back to Santo Domingo, a day of rest, and then Delta taking us home; knowing that one person at a time we may have made a difference, but we had just scratched the surface.
"For you always have the poor with you; but you do not always have Me." - Jesus
“One thing you still lack; sell all that you possess and distribute it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” - Jesus
"And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing." - Paul
"Listen, my beloved brethren: did not God choose the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which He promised to those who love Him?" - James
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
How to paint poverty without thinking "ugly"
How to paint poverty without thinking "ugly".
The doctor and I wandered down the dirt streets with our small group, after we had finished an hour of home visits to treat some ladies, who could not make it to the clinic. All the cases were the same - open sores on feet and legs from diabetes, with many missing toes (amputations).
I had taken some photos as we walked, then commented, "I only took a few, because every street of poverty seems to look the same."
Doc simply replied, "Yeah, it's all ugly."
I did not think he was being callous, but it caused me to pause and say, "I don't think that's the right word, but I don't know what the right word is. What does this poverty truly look like?"
Scores of young men lying around, because there's no work, little girls in pig tails and school uniforms walking home to no running water and possibly no food, widows living in shacks caring for grandchildren, pigs freely grazing the trash in the grass along the roads, animal feces everywhere, and the hardship of this reality played out day after day after day after day after day.
We had spent all day in the church/clinic, treating and praying over scores of patients. My doctor friend, who with his wife has come twice a year for six years, looks at me and says, "The people seem to be in worse shape than ever. They're not getting better but worse." And we were running out of meds. The truth we knew, we were just scratching the surface, but we still believed that we were making a difference for the Kingdom, one person, one shack, one village at a time.
Among missionaries and others there is quite a debate about the long-term effectiveness of short-term mission trips, with many thinking they do more harm than good. I really don't know how to delve into that discussion, but I do know that countless lives are changed in the going and by those who come.
Anyone from America that wades into the muck of poverty in developing nations - we can't say third world anymore, but it truly is a different reality - doesn't (can't?) return with the same perspective that they had before going (unless they're heartless, consumer addicts).
After over 20 years of going to and even living in the nations, one important thing I know for sure - if we treat, feed, serve, dig wells, train, educate, finance, develop and clothe our "neighbors" but do not lead them to the living water of the kingdom of God, where salvation, miracles and rejoicing flow, then we are truly doing them and us no good.
But it's not an either or problem, and God's grace is bigger that I can imagine, so who knows what might be transformed by that cup of water and those parasite pills.
The doctor and I wandered down the dirt streets with our small group, after we had finished an hour of home visits to treat some ladies, who could not make it to the clinic. All the cases were the same - open sores on feet and legs from diabetes, with many missing toes (amputations).
I had taken some photos as we walked, then commented, "I only took a few, because every street of poverty seems to look the same."
Doc simply replied, "Yeah, it's all ugly."
I did not think he was being callous, but it caused me to pause and say, "I don't think that's the right word, but I don't know what the right word is. What does this poverty truly look like?"
Scores of young men lying around, because there's no work, little girls in pig tails and school uniforms walking home to no running water and possibly no food, widows living in shacks caring for grandchildren, pigs freely grazing the trash in the grass along the roads, animal feces everywhere, and the hardship of this reality played out day after day after day after day after day.
We had spent all day in the church/clinic, treating and praying over scores of patients. My doctor friend, who with his wife has come twice a year for six years, looks at me and says, "The people seem to be in worse shape than ever. They're not getting better but worse." And we were running out of meds. The truth we knew, we were just scratching the surface, but we still believed that we were making a difference for the Kingdom, one person, one shack, one village at a time.
Among missionaries and others there is quite a debate about the long-term effectiveness of short-term mission trips, with many thinking they do more harm than good. I really don't know how to delve into that discussion, but I do know that countless lives are changed in the going and by those who come.
Anyone from America that wades into the muck of poverty in developing nations - we can't say third world anymore, but it truly is a different reality - doesn't (can't?) return with the same perspective that they had before going (unless they're heartless, consumer addicts).
After over 20 years of going to and even living in the nations, one important thing I know for sure - if we treat, feed, serve, dig wells, train, educate, finance, develop and clothe our "neighbors" but do not lead them to the living water of the kingdom of God, where salvation, miracles and rejoicing flow, then we are truly doing them and us no good.
But it's not an either or problem, and God's grace is bigger that I can imagine, so who knows what might be transformed by that cup of water and those parasite pills.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Working with the dazed and confused...
Working with the dazed and confused...
What a bizarre team we have - five Evangelicals from SC, four liberals from Massachusetts (quite wacky and lost), three Roman Catholics from Boston, and one precious Pentecostal from the northern part of the Dominican Republic. I knew that medical teams could be like that, and I knew that I was supposed to come - to minister to the Dominicans and to this team.
Yesterday at the airport, one of the wacky liberals (there's really no other way to describe them, except to sometimes add belligerent) immediately told me about her wonderful church with its gay organist and their gay priest.
I'm thinking, "Seriously? Why is all about twisted sex with you guys." But I simply pray and direct the conversation towards the Gospel.
"You're not one of those Evangelicals (a pejorative) are you."
"Yes, mam, I am." She was old and I am southern.
Later she tells me about some serious infirmities, and again I go to the Gospel and the healing power of God, thinking, "Maybe God might touch her and open her eyes."
"That sounds like that Evangelical stuff, no thanks."
She would rather be friends with her infirmity than believe the Gospel? Amazing!
To say the least I was doing a lot of praying, and I knew that I was here to model truth and grace, pastorally to everyone, without judgment or compromise.
Today (Thursday) was frankly amazing on many levels. We spent the day in Angelina, running the clinic out of the church and walking around the village, visiting and praying with folks.
We had two doctors set up and seeing patients, with me assisting one and our Dominican, Pentecostal sister (Anna Maria) with the other. We also had a dentist set up across the street in Pepe's house and a pharmacy and an optical area.
After a medical exam Anna Maria and I would anoint and pray for each person. (I can do church Spanish pretty well!) And oh, how we pulled on heaven when we prayed! But let me back up.
There are two main churches in this village, La Iglesia Anglicana and La Iglesia de Dios de Profesia (The Church of God of Prophesy), and most of our patients went to one or the other. When they told me they went to the other one I would ask (in Spanish) "Is the presence of the Lord strong there." "O yes!" "Are there miracles?" "O yes!" "Is there the language of heaven (tongues)?" "O yes!" "Do you speak in tongues?" And many would answer yes.
But there was this one lady (60ish) who answered, "Not yet, but I desire to do so."
So I prayed with her for healing and for the release of the Spirit, and he fell on her, and she began to speak, and it wasn't Spanish or English.
What a joy! The wacky liberal was in the pharmacy away from us and the presence of God was moving with healing and power and love!
During one break though I was talking to one of our Catholic team members, and the first thing she declared about her parish, "We have lots of gays in our church, and we're very accepting." Mind you, I had not said anything about sexuality to anyone.
Why is it always about sex with these folks? Why would you define the glory of your church by celebrating anal sex between to men or whatever two women do?
What a sad and empty Gospel we have accepted in our broken nation, indeed this is no Gospel at all. To confuse love for all sinners with accepting life styles that truly seek to redefine God's design for marriage and the church. "I'm speaking a mystery ( a husband and wife) of Christ and His church." (Apostle Paul)
Before our day ended, I wandered down to La Iglesia de Dios de Profesia and found 30 ladies in a circle praying, so I joined them - material for another blog.
Well, we have had dinner, showers and our evening service, and everyone has crashed; I am tired and full, but the Catholic came back to me after our devotions with many questions and a hunger for the truth.
The greatest miracle on this trip may not be the sick villagers in Angelina receiving God's healing touch. It just might be the way he transforms those who have come to serve but don't know the truth about the Great Physician.
What a bizarre team we have - five Evangelicals from SC, four liberals from Massachusetts (quite wacky and lost), three Roman Catholics from Boston, and one precious Pentecostal from the northern part of the Dominican Republic. I knew that medical teams could be like that, and I knew that I was supposed to come - to minister to the Dominicans and to this team.
Yesterday at the airport, one of the wacky liberals (there's really no other way to describe them, except to sometimes add belligerent) immediately told me about her wonderful church with its gay organist and their gay priest.
I'm thinking, "Seriously? Why is all about twisted sex with you guys." But I simply pray and direct the conversation towards the Gospel.
"You're not one of those Evangelicals (a pejorative) are you."
"Yes, mam, I am." She was old and I am southern.
Later she tells me about some serious infirmities, and again I go to the Gospel and the healing power of God, thinking, "Maybe God might touch her and open her eyes."
"That sounds like that Evangelical stuff, no thanks."
She would rather be friends with her infirmity than believe the Gospel? Amazing!
To say the least I was doing a lot of praying, and I knew that I was here to model truth and grace, pastorally to everyone, without judgment or compromise.
Today (Thursday) was frankly amazing on many levels. We spent the day in Angelina, running the clinic out of the church and walking around the village, visiting and praying with folks.
We had two doctors set up and seeing patients, with me assisting one and our Dominican, Pentecostal sister (Anna Maria) with the other. We also had a dentist set up across the street in Pepe's house and a pharmacy and an optical area.
After a medical exam Anna Maria and I would anoint and pray for each person. (I can do church Spanish pretty well!) And oh, how we pulled on heaven when we prayed! But let me back up.
There are two main churches in this village, La Iglesia Anglicana and La Iglesia de Dios de Profesia (The Church of God of Prophesy), and most of our patients went to one or the other. When they told me they went to the other one I would ask (in Spanish) "Is the presence of the Lord strong there." "O yes!" "Are there miracles?" "O yes!" "Is there the language of heaven (tongues)?" "O yes!" "Do you speak in tongues?" And many would answer yes.
But there was this one lady (60ish) who answered, "Not yet, but I desire to do so."
So I prayed with her for healing and for the release of the Spirit, and he fell on her, and she began to speak, and it wasn't Spanish or English.
What a joy! The wacky liberal was in the pharmacy away from us and the presence of God was moving with healing and power and love!
During one break though I was talking to one of our Catholic team members, and the first thing she declared about her parish, "We have lots of gays in our church, and we're very accepting." Mind you, I had not said anything about sexuality to anyone.
Why is it always about sex with these folks? Why would you define the glory of your church by celebrating anal sex between to men or whatever two women do?
What a sad and empty Gospel we have accepted in our broken nation, indeed this is no Gospel at all. To confuse love for all sinners with accepting life styles that truly seek to redefine God's design for marriage and the church. "I'm speaking a mystery ( a husband and wife) of Christ and His church." (Apostle Paul)
Before our day ended, I wandered down to La Iglesia de Dios de Profesia and found 30 ladies in a circle praying, so I joined them - material for another blog.
Well, we have had dinner, showers and our evening service, and everyone has crashed; I am tired and full, but the Catholic came back to me after our devotions with many questions and a hunger for the truth.
The greatest miracle on this trip may not be the sick villagers in Angelina receiving God's healing touch. It just might be the way he transforms those who have come to serve but don't know the truth about the Great Physician.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Angelina - It's been five years
Angelina - It's been five years.
Woke up at o'dark hundred; Jane sacrificed and got up too. Riding to the airport, our eyes and contacts still calibrating clarity, as we prepared to leave our normal world for a place where the daily grind is much more severe.
Angelina - I've walked her dirt streets before, Gringos going door to door to share and pray, finding weary souls, hungry bellies and stories of brokenness.
I've never gone to bed without today and tomorrow's meal; never been sick without medical care close at hand; never gone without clean drinking water or indoor plumbing; never been cared for by grandparents, because no one knew my Daddy, and Mom worked the streets in Santo Domingo (when she wasn't high).
Oh, I've felt our collective pain at the gas pump and moaned about inflation, but scraping for a $.50 bowl of rice and wondering how our family will make it, when the same bowl is now a $1.00, is beyond alien to this overweight, achy knee preacher.
My life has dripped with plenty in a culture weighed down and intoxicated by affluenza. Like living and breathing in a moldy house, I have breathed in modern, western Christendom and interpreted much of my world and God's through its distorted lenses. Angelina helps me see more clearly, our universal brokenness and the deep, spiritual poverty amidst our plenty.
Last month I rode in a Porsche, played golf at a prestigious country club, ate in a four star restaurant, slept in an 18th Century plantation, preached to comfortable people and played on my iPad.
Today I'll land in the Dominican Republic and be grateful for AC, hot water and rice and beans, and tomorrow I'll arise and return to Angelina.
Woke up at o'dark hundred; Jane sacrificed and got up too. Riding to the airport, our eyes and contacts still calibrating clarity, as we prepared to leave our normal world for a place where the daily grind is much more severe.
Angelina - I've walked her dirt streets before, Gringos going door to door to share and pray, finding weary souls, hungry bellies and stories of brokenness.
I've never gone to bed without today and tomorrow's meal; never been sick without medical care close at hand; never gone without clean drinking water or indoor plumbing; never been cared for by grandparents, because no one knew my Daddy, and Mom worked the streets in Santo Domingo (when she wasn't high).
Oh, I've felt our collective pain at the gas pump and moaned about inflation, but scraping for a $.50 bowl of rice and wondering how our family will make it, when the same bowl is now a $1.00, is beyond alien to this overweight, achy knee preacher.
My life has dripped with plenty in a culture weighed down and intoxicated by affluenza. Like living and breathing in a moldy house, I have breathed in modern, western Christendom and interpreted much of my world and God's through its distorted lenses. Angelina helps me see more clearly, our universal brokenness and the deep, spiritual poverty amidst our plenty.
Last month I rode in a Porsche, played golf at a prestigious country club, ate in a four star restaurant, slept in an 18th Century plantation, preached to comfortable people and played on my iPad.
Today I'll land in the Dominican Republic and be grateful for AC, hot water and rice and beans, and tomorrow I'll arise and return to Angelina.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Why I Keep Going
Twenty-three years ago Jane and I went to Brazil on our first mission trip. It changed us forever, and we have never seen the world in the same way.
We stayed in a luxury hotel on the Copacabana Beach and worked in the favellas (slums). The contrast between the two worlds, side by side, was both eye opening and surreal.
We returned to the States with an awakened desire to go to the nations, a desire that our Baptist heritage had sown deep inside us and our seminary days had intensified (Southwestern had sent more missionaries overseas than anyone).
Since that trip we have continued to go to the nations, always sobered by the needs and overwhelmed by the power of the Gospel. We have lived and or ministered in Europe, Central America, South America, Africa and the Caribbean, and our grown kids have done the same.
Now tomorrow (the 2nd) I go again - heading out early for the fourth time to the Dominican Republic. I'll serve as the chaplain on a medical team ministering in some very needy villages that are just a few miles away from the world class resorts.
Why do I keep going? The Kingdom of God explodes with vibrancy outside the developed world, and that vitality washes out of me the lethargy of our blighted culture. And when I come home, I have a renewed hunger to see the Kingdom break out here with the same fervency and power.
I would write more, but I've got to go pack...
We stayed in a luxury hotel on the Copacabana Beach and worked in the favellas (slums). The contrast between the two worlds, side by side, was both eye opening and surreal.
We returned to the States with an awakened desire to go to the nations, a desire that our Baptist heritage had sown deep inside us and our seminary days had intensified (Southwestern had sent more missionaries overseas than anyone).
Since that trip we have continued to go to the nations, always sobered by the needs and overwhelmed by the power of the Gospel. We have lived and or ministered in Europe, Central America, South America, Africa and the Caribbean, and our grown kids have done the same.
Now tomorrow (the 2nd) I go again - heading out early for the fourth time to the Dominican Republic. I'll serve as the chaplain on a medical team ministering in some very needy villages that are just a few miles away from the world class resorts.
Why do I keep going? The Kingdom of God explodes with vibrancy outside the developed world, and that vitality washes out of me the lethargy of our blighted culture. And when I come home, I have a renewed hunger to see the Kingdom break out here with the same fervency and power.
I would write more, but I've got to go pack...
Friday, September 27, 2013
My Ask List
"You do not have because you do not ask." - James 4:2
My Ask List...
My Ask List...
More of You, Lord – deeper encounters, intimacy and prayer.
Our prodigals to come home, be healed and fulfill your Divine Destinies for their lives.
Continually washing out the fear of man, replaced with a constantly growing fear of You.
Many more years of fruitful, unfettered ministry with a team.
Many more years of health & favor for Jane, the children, the grandchildren, myself and those we know & love.
Continued opportunities to go to the nations.
To receive & give financial blessing.
To see your Kingdom come, more and more, in power, in me and through me.
To have a people we deeply belong to.
To be and live like the sons of Issachar, “…men who understood the times, with knowledge of what Israel should do…” – 1st Chronicles 12:32.
To lead people to You – by an increase of influence, attraction & transformation.
Wisdom & discernment, as I seek to ever balance Grace & Truth without critical judgment or compromise.
Above all – Joy & contentment with Your good, acceptable and perfect will.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
What does it take to break through the myth of wholeness?
When will all pretense and false images crumble into nothing?
Who among us is truly self aware?
How can we accept the broken without calling broken normal?
Where does one go to find love, acceptance & forgiveness?
When life has beaten us down, worn us out, who will pick us up and refresh us?
Where is our peace, when the music fades and the crowd disperses?
When I want to do good, why do I do the opposite?
When temptations assail, why does my flesh willingly yield?
What can I do or pay to obtain deliverance, perfection, wholeness?
How can authenticity, transparency & integrity flow midst facade & denial?
How can I walk by faith when my sight overwhelms me?
Why is "why" such a misguided focus?
Who can reveal their heart, risking hurt to heal?
Who can slake this thirst and satisfy the hunger?
Where does one go to find real community, trust and friendship?
Where can I go to be lovingly stripped of destructive pride?
Who can clean me, heal me, hold me, accept me, protect me, fulfill me?
What will it take for me to surrender, let go and die?
Who will graciously take me, bless me, break me and give me away?
Who can rescue and deliver me from the shackles of this body of death?
"O thank God! He will! ~ Through Jesus Christ, the anointed one, our Lord!"
Hallelujah!
mark d. cooke, 4-11-13, at the Catch the Fire Conference, "For The One"
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