The Church in Chiclayo

I want to talk a little bit about Bautista Iglesia Fundamental Gracia, because in a way that is a huge part of why we are here. Just over a year ago, we were contemplating moving somewhere more southerly, and Peru was one of the countries at the top of our list.

I had been talking with a brother about plans for that year, and he mentioned that he and a couple other siblings were planning to travel to Machu Picchu that summer. I jokingly said that we might move to Peru next year, and if they could wait a year they could visit us. So they waited, and we moved. Now it's time for them to visit us. =)

About that time, my family told me about a Peruvian family that had visited their church and presented in the Spanish-speaking Sunday School. They were building a church in Peru, and my family thought it might be good to talk with them. So we invited them over for dinner, explained our idea about moving to another country for a year or so to learn Spanish, among other things, and asked what they suggested. Note that my Spanish was very rusty, and they did not speak English fluently (although we both understood a bit of each other's language). Their oldest daughter did speak English, and my Spanish-speaking brother Benjamin joined us for dinner to help translate if necessary. But it wasn't really necessary. We manage to communicate pretty well, and they recommended Chiclayo (where they lived) as a fine place to live. They invited us to come visit them, and welcomed us to join their church and participate in the ministry.

We were interested, and made plans accordingly. In August Michael and I traveled to Chiclayo for a scouting expedition, and when we returned without mishap--without getting sick, or robbed, or lost--we decided that we could live there. So we began making plans for the move.

The church was meeting in a small donated space downtown, but recently their landlord needed the building, so they found a new place. I assume the rent is cheap, but the church members are likely poor, and the best thing is to get settled in a new church building. They are looking for a building to buy or for land on which to build. I'm hoping we can help with creating fundraisers in the US so that others can have the opportunity to participate by contributing toward the building/land purchase. It's insane how far money goes here, and how much good can be done with so little. It makes me conscious all over again of my American privilege, and how blessed we are (were?) to live in a country where wealth is so readily available and disposable income so plentiful. Poor people in America have nothing on the poverty here, where migrant Venezuelans vend tiny pieces of candy in the streets in the hopes of earning a few centavos, cats and dogs run wild through the streets, and there aren't really food banks or free clinics.

As one example, during the first few days we were here, we learned that the daughter of a church member and dear friend (she served us an amazing meal of ceviche when we were here in August) was taken to the clinic with severe abdominal pains. It turned out to be appendicitis, and she had an appendectomy, after which she went home (I think just a day later) to save money. The clinic doesn't serve food, like a normal hospital, so I went with Sra. Balcazar (our host and the pastor's wife) to bring breakfast to the family. Sra. Balcazar told me that the bills were about s/2.500 (2,500 Peruvian soles, or about $781.25) and that without health insurance, they couldn't pay it. I would love to see some kind of ministry whereby we could set up a way for Americans to contribute both to the building of the church and other mercy needs of destitute members. If any one has experience with this--I'm thinking something more long-term and sustainable than GoFundMe--please reach out and let's talk.

The church meets on Sunday mornings, Tuesday evenings, Friday evenings, and there is a Bible Study on Saturdays. I don't always understand all the words, but I'm able to catch the gist of much of it. For example, one recent sermon was on the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. We all read about the Pharisee's boast: "Ayuno dos veces a la semana." Aha! Breakfast here is called desayuno, and I realized that the word's construction is much the same as ours: break fast, des ayuno.

There is much more to say but my laptop is getting hot so I'll close with a few pictures:

The congregation worshipping

Entering the church

Helping set up

Sunday School class presentation

Family portrait

Visiting Yamileh in the clinic

Baby dedication

Lots of children

We went to visit Mercy and she cooked us a meal!

More classes

No air conditioning!

The Long Road North

Well, we made it. After a whirlwind week in Lima--which I thought had left us plenty of time to see sights, visit a beach or two, tour the city, and visit with everyone we wanted to connect with, but which ended up being barely enough time to conduct the essentials necessary for the next part of our journey--we woke up before dawn on Saturday--for the second Saturday in a row--packed up the car, and set off across the country, heading due north along the coastline.

The drive was long and colorful. It took us over an hour just to get outside of Lima, with only a wrong turn or two to set us back. We had our first adventure on the outskirts of Lima, when we were pulled over by la policia, who informed us--as we eventually figured out--that we had committed an infraction by not having our headlights on, and that they were going to give us a ticket, unless we gave them 300 soles. At first I thought they were telling us the ticket--"Boleta"--was 300 soles, and after trying to explain in rudimentary Spanish that I didn't have that money on me, but that if they gave me the ticket, I would visit the bank in Chiclayo and pay the ticket then, we realized that they wanted the money now. At that point Michael realized it was probably a corruption racket, and encouraged me to talk our way out of it. So I pointed to the children crammed into the car and said, "No tengo 300 soles. Mis soles son para almuerza para mis ninos." Eventually they must have decided we weren't worth the trouble, and they waved us on, with another warning about las luces.

The road we took was the main road up the coast--something Pan America--and yet it had the occasional speed bump in cities. We'd approach a city and see a sign stating "Fin de Autopista," and them boom, there'd be a city with speed bumps, traffic, and rubble-filled streets. Eventually there'd be another sign saying "Inicio Autopista," and we were off to the races.

Much of the countryside was desolate desert, with sand and rocks the primary scenery. But as we headed north we saw more cultivated regions.

We had a luggage rack for our car, and crammed as much as we could into that. But we were still tightly squeezed into the body of the car, with two seats out of eight folded up. Two girls shared a seat in the back row and I held Becca, who was getting over a few days' of fever and stomach trouble, on my lap.

To cut a long story in about fifths, we made it to Chiclayo after about 14 hours on the road, to a very warm welcome. More about our friends in Chiclayo in a future post. For now, some pictures of our journey:

Shanty town on the hills outside Lima. No wonder there are so many fatalities every time there's an earthquake or mudslide.

These bathrooms are hygienic AND free!

Desolate desert

Mototaxi and fruit vendor in one city we passed through

And just like that, the highway can end

Nobody in here but us sardines

On the road to Chiclayo

Cultivated regions

Still on the right track

The cities and streets have such interesting names

Hola from Lima!

Safe and sound. The internet connection here is rather sketchy, so I'll just put up a few pictures and save the dialog for another day.

Packing Up And Heading Out

Our house is emptying out, and some rooms are actually echoing. We've packed our bags for travel, we've packed up a few boxes and bins of valuables to store with family, and we've gotten rid of a lot of driftwood. We're renting out the house furnished, so at least we don't have to rid ourselves of the basic furnishings and household goods.

I think this is about the cleanest break we've made yet. When I moved out to Virginia over twenty years ago, my worldly goods consisted of my bed and four boxes of possessions. When I moved away from Virginia five year later, Michael had to bring his small truck to haul away my stuff (this was after multiple rounds of wedding showers, of course).

Speaking of wedding presents, I've packed up a few of those over these past weeks, as precious memories are a few things we do not want our tenants getting their grubby hands on, no matter how much we might respect them. I sent a hat-box over to my brother's house, the provenance of which remains yet unknown--it came without a card attached, so who gave it to me remains a mystery to this day, but I've treasured it all these years and I actually keep hats and gloves in it!

But as I was saying, this is the lowest ebb by far, even more draconian a cut than when we moved back to Virginia five years ago. Then we made the decision to move in just over a week, and sold off most of our furniture in a blaze of logistical flourishes. But we brought the entire contents of our pantry and freezer with us. This time we've actually been eating down our stores, and I've been avoiding grocery shopping for some time, and the pantry is looking bare.

George said: 'You know we are on the wrong track altogether. We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can't do without.'

George comes out really quite sensible at times. You'd be surprised. I call that downright wisdom, not merely as regards the present case, but with reference to our trip up the river of life generally. How many people, on that voyage, load up the boat till it is ever in danger of swamping with a store of foolish things which they think essential to the pleasure and comfort of the trip, but which are really only useless lumber....

It is lumber, man--all lumber! Throw it overboard. It makes the boat so heavy to pull, you nearly faint at the oars.....Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need. ~Three Men In A Boat

It's bittersweet, in a way. But we'll be back, and we have friends waiting for us at the other end.