The Children of the King

...from the street to the Kingdom.

Ryan Holly’s Journal

        ……..musings of a young missionary’s mind and spirit.

July 22, 2007 (Sunday)

The Eternal War

                 The church was remarkably full of a Nicaraguan majority with the remainder being our mission team. The hospitality, warmth, joy and agape of these sincere people captivated my spirit and fueled the revolutionary flame of the Holy Spirit within my heart. We were cordially welcomed by virtually everyone who we sauntered past in the church building. The service began with prayer then continued for an hour and a half in the passionate forms of scripture reading, worship songs (all in Spanish), a sermon centered on the book of Jonah by Dr. King (the leader of our mission trip) in English and was translated into Spanish by Mario Pineda (another vital member of our mission team), more worship songs, communion, announcements and prayer. The children are radiant manifestations of Jesus Christ – His numinous ability to ignite particular flames to unite in the expulsion of the world-wide darkness that Satan shadows into the hearts of the faithless. In the eternal war, a humble child’s smile overpowers a ruthless mercenary’s AK-47.

Ryan Holly, above, is from Edmond Oklahoma.  He is a senior at Oklahoma Christian University majoring in Christian Journalism.  More on Ryan in “About the Author” below.

July 23, 2007 (Monday)

Our Beautiful Struggle

                 For our first day of work at the orphanage we began repainting the boys home. I was successful in tearing through a five gallon paint bucket with an immense kitchen knife. We harmoniously applied paint to the building’s exterior with rollers and paint brushes. These passionate children – overflowing with the revolutionary zeal that is shamefully abandoned by most adults – were eagerly grasping roller handles and anxiously exclaiming “Tio, Tio!” (Uncle, Uncle!) A sensational feeling erupts within me as I hear these sincere cries. These orphans have never seen me before yet they know me as their uncle! The children here reflect the iridescent love of Jesus Christ; an unconditional love that keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:5) and goes two miles for those who need one mile of guidance (Matthew 5:41). I forcefully plugged their roller handles with rollers and then they immediately united in our beautiful struggle. They were hilariously apathetic about what many of us are tragically most concerned about – our superficial appearance. It was comically stated that the kids “poured more pain on themselves than they did on the walls.” These kids have never seen snow and the white speckles of paint dashed on their arms and hair may be the closest that they will ever get. For this blizzard they only need the air in their lungs. They did not need any heavy coats, waterproof boots and ski masks because this Nicaraguan snowstorm was artificial in its tangible form but spiritually authentic in its intangible form – its origin, its motivation, its heart.

                 My Nikon D50 camera has become the children’s “special friend” (not like “Oh yes, you my special friend!”). Every time I reveal this camera from my backpack they emotionally react as if they are being presented with the opportunity to taste the fruits of utopia. They absolutely love to get their “FOTO!!!” taken. This digital camera enables them to view their picture on display. Photographs truly are an extraordinary vehicle for change. As audible words (video and radio) and inaudible words (written words – magazine, newspaper, billboards, graffiti, etc…) amplifies a voice for the voiceless, photographs manifest a vision for the invisible. Many of these children are bleeding but without such images as proof many people remain in the shadow of their subjectivity as they ignorantly allow these children to bleed to death. We cannot treat wounds that we cannot see. The crucial question: do we have the courage to journey beyond our superficial exterior so that we can cure the wounds of our enigmatic interior?

July 24, 2007 (Tuesday)

The Trees of Good and Evil

                 So we painted…and painted…and painted…and then we were rejuvenated by the children. My recess from painting was a uniquely organic one. I swung kids around on my shoulders, played futbol with them and the most significant activity was instigated by three of the children – Pedro (age 11), Jose (age 10) and Eduardo (age 8). All three of them motioned for me to follow them through a field. At first I was hesitant because I did not want them to stray too far away from the others. I rebuked my lack of faith and abandoned my inhibitions. Through our limited conversation they showed me the corn growing in a nearby field. Jose began to climb a beautiful tree in the heart of the field. I quickly learned, with the help of my friends, that this is a guava tree. We transformed into jubilant monkeys as we climbed the guava tree and picked a few guava pods. We shared the fruit and smiled in contentment. Please read Matthew 18:2-6 and Mark 9:35-37.

                 Our cultures clashed as mine was humiliated in its excess and exposed in its fraudulence. In this flourishing field of corn and guava I was thrust into a subsistence culture being perpetuated by eight to eleven year old children. While American children are being contaminated with the time = money equation as instructed in corporate educational institutions these Nicaraguan children are knowledgeable about God’s creative blessings and how to survive in harmony with nature. My monochronic American culture was superseded by the polychronic Nicaraguan culture. Time was of no value to us. Our love was for each other; not motivated by money or by prestige. The three children attempted to share as much of the guava with me as they could as I stood beneath them, prepared to catch them if they fell. My primary love was (and continues to be) for Jesus Christ who created these radiant children and this love was evident in our concern for each other. My humiliation was purged by my epiphany that the excessive American culture is a futile one. More is less and spiritual death (Matthew 16:26) is not success. The fraudulence of American culture is apparent in its artificial and corrupt foundations. The Nicaraguan culture gained transcendence in my eyes because of its simplicity of natural reliance and its authenticity of organic and solid roots. The trees of good and evil: A Nicaraguan guava tree and an American money tree. A suicidal tragedy: only one is real yet the illusion is fought and died for.

                 After our exploration through the field I reunited with others in the construction team to paint more of the boys’ home. We have been forced to paint because we do not have access to the materials needed to build on to the playground. Although in subtle disappointment, we painted until we finished our work for the day. I immediately hurled myself back into the lives of the children. One particular child, Keneth (age 9), sparked one of the most fulfilling experiences that I have ever been blessed with the opportunity of having: reading the book of life to children in a language foreign from my own. We were on the playground when he withdrew a weathered and coverless pocket-sized New Testament in Spanish. I was instantly overjoyed at the sight of a Bible in his hands but my joy ascended when I realized that he desired to study the Bible. I will never forget sitting on the end of that slide with Kenneth as I read the creation story (Genesis 1) to him in Spanish. My Spanish was clumsy and I did not understand most of the words I read but he was enthralled by the earth’s origin. More and more children surrounded me so I excavated my bible from the depths of my backpack. A recurring favorite passage among the children is Salmos 23 (Psalm 23) and after they read it in Spanish I read it in English. Their favorite verse of this chapter is verse 4: “Even through I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Their luminescent hope has been discovered in the fearlessness that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ provides. Pedro, age eleven, united with us and brought his aging Spanish Bible. We read the bible for about 30 minutes. I tore out  a page from my moleskine (journal) and wrote my favorite verses on it for them. I made sure to accentuate certain verses, such as 1 Juan (John) 4:16 “Dios es amore” (“God is love”). Kenneth even made me a bracelet!

July 26, 2007 (Thursday)

Embrace Her

                 Back to the orphanage. Today was my fifth day to serve at the orphanage. I had grown accustomed to the kids calling me “Tio” and to their relentless quest for attention. I had forgotten that these kids are orphans. These kids were abandoned, these kids were dejected, these precious children were deemed of no value – these children were rescued from death. My heart was immediately and devastatingly crushed when I was reminded of these heinous truths. My gorgeous reminder: a three year old girl (Eva) who lifted her vulnerable arms up at me and desperately cried “Papa!!! Papa!!!” A shattering epiphany: this beautiful, three year old girl will never know her earthly father and as acting for her Heavenly Father I have temporarily filled that void. Should I embrace her to abandon her two hours later? Realizing my emotional anguish, the Holy Spirit replaced my feeble question with this divinely inspired one: Should I embrace her in the iridescent love of Jesus Christ or should I ignore her and coldly allow her to age without experiencing this transcendent love?  So I embraced her, carried her on my shoulders and Yahweh guided my steps with the luminescent light of His love.

                 I shifted from painting to carpentry as I aided in the construction of two shelves. The five continual caretakers of the orphans smiled in approval. These caretakers are incredible Nicaraguan women who clean the grounds, wash dishes and clothes, feed the orphans and encourage their educational development.

                 Speaking of washing the orphans’ clothes, I’ll never forget ducking under the barbed wire clothes line that is utilized to hang the kids’ socks and underwear on. I interpret this gripping reality as beautiful irony. A renewed life at the orphanage empowers these kids to rest above the thorns of death as these thorns are reminders of their past and motivators for their future.

July 30, 2007 (Monday)

A Paradoxical Country

                 The Nicaraguan landscape is a hypnotic beauty. Sensational views blossomed on both sides of our bus from Jinotepe to Managua. An active volcano on our left demanded our visual respect and only a quarter of a mile later a sprawling pineapple plantation mesmerized our eyes into a cyclical following of the gorgeous hills that provide fertile soil for this delicious fruit to flourish.

                 The pineapples. The bananas. The plantains. The guava. The mamones. THE FRUIT! The coffee beans. The corn. The yucca. THE NATURAL RESOUCES! Nicaragua is rich in natural resources yet poor in financial resources. How can this be? Political corruption. Capitalistic oppression. A subsistence culture. The current sales tax in Nicaragua is at a debilitating 15%! Coca-Cola signs have infested the entire country! The people have been repeatedly lied to by the Somozas and the Sandinistas; a result of this political fraud is a suffering people who can only focus on survival without learning how to share in the wealth of their birthplace! A lethargic devil would cynically sneer that Nicaragua needs divine intervention. God blesses all Christians with the divine Holy Spirit! We must stand and make a difference or else our destinies will be drowned in a lukewarm pool of death.

July 29, 2007 (Sunday)

Supernatural Experiences

                 Today we completed our construction of the playground. With the see-saws and swing set finally finished the kids smiled and reacted in earnest joy. A poignant epiphany: today may be the last day that I will see these kids (on earth anyway). I repeated a miniscule act of charity that I had done earlier in the week – pass out sugarless, teeth cleaning gum to the children. They love this gum and because of it and my camera I am a celebrity here at the orphanage. Whenever the kids approach me they usually exclaim one of three phrases:

Una Foto! Una Foto! (One photo! One photo)

Mas chigle! Mas chigle! (More gum! More gum!)

Studia la biblia! Leer la biblia! (Study the bible! Read the bible!)

Supernatural experiences were ones of me praying for the small children. I picked them up, one by one, and prayed for them. It was as if their entire lives would flash before the eyes of my heart and I sincerely prayed for God to bless them and inspire their souls to pursue truth and reflect light no matter how dark their environments get.

July 27, 2007 (Friday)

Welcome to San Juan de Oriente

                 The wheels of our bus rolled for about 45 minutes until we arrived in San Juan de Oriente. My right foot landed on a worn dirt road in San Juan de Oriente and after my footing was secure my eyes focused on what appeared to be blood stained walls. These walls had originally been white but though time and poverty they have been polluted with faded colors of red and orange. A scrawny vagabond stumbled passed me and by the look of its four malnutritioned legs it was difficult to confidently identify it as a dog. The slightly angled dirt road was drowning at its center in a stagnant stream of raw sewage. A rooster and hen were grazing in the sparse weeds along the roadside until to my stomach’s volatile disgust they regressed to bobbing their beaks into the raw sewage in the center of the road. Definitely NOT purified water!

                 Our clinical service consisted of four primary stations: a pharmacy located in the village’s church, a mud floored house volunteered as a room that was utilized by two physicians to diagnose and hopefully treat as many people who show, another mud floored home for the same purpose (with two more physicians) and a nicer, tiled floored home that was offered to the dental team for hygienic work and one dentist to perform surgeries (mostly extractions).

                 I discovered first hand that fasting and witnessing a dentist extract a wisdom tooth from infected gums is not a comfortable combination. The dentist would inject the anesthetic into the patient’s gums and then pry the obstinate tooth out of his or her mouth. There were two oral hygienists and they cleaned mostly children’s teeth. Their two assistants were two young girls who placed toothbrushes and toothpaste into individual bags for each patient. Reversing back to the dentist, his assistant was his high school aged daughter who inserted gauze pads into the mouth of patients to alleviate the bleeding. The dentist was also blessed with a translator who brilliantly shifted from Spanish to English and then back again to ensure clear communication.

                 I bypassed the contaminated chickens so that I could enter the first of the two mud floored make-shift clinics. The village subsists despite a meager supply of electricity. We were there from 9:00am to 3:00pm and throughout that entire time there was no electricity in the village. I have found that many places in Nicaragua run on a timed supply of electricity. The orphanage, for example, only has electricity from 2:00pm to 6:00am. Returning to our mud floored clinic, it was depressingly dark and despite these pitiful conditions Jesus Christ’s omnipotent light of love illuminated the room though the doctors’ selfless care of the patients. The basic set-up in each of these clinics was two tables with a doctor and a translator sitting at each. Patients were accepted one at a time. The most common ailment here is foot fungus. There was a certain condition in which a 30 year old man had compound fractured his leg and after his surgery his leg got infected. This patient is aware that his infection swarmed into his bone. My friend, a translator, was compelled to tell him the tragic truth – he had to amputate his leg or he would die.

                 The church doubled as a pharmacy and while doing so it housed most of our checked in baggage that is full of medicinal supplies. The most common medicines are ibuprofen, amoxicillin and Tylenol. Fourteen people served in the pharmacy. Each pharmacist wore an apron and wielded a clipboard. The clipboard contained a list that acted as a key for all medicines. The four physicians filled out prescriptions and instead of writing “ibuprofen” they would simply write the number “11” or for amoxicillin they would write “42.” Pharmacists would receive the prescriptions and then pick up a bag and fill it with the needed medicine.

                 This four fold process endured for six hours. My primary duty was photography but I also carried suitcases from station to station and encouraged everyone in my translucent path. The fifth component of our ministry was geared for the children of the village. One woman read illustrated bible stories in Spanish to the kids while two women had a long jump rope that caused much joy in the hearts of the children. I also united in the effort to share Jesus’ love with the children.

                 The numbers are astonishing: the medical team served in six different villages on six different days and on average the doctors treated 700 people each day while the pharmacy filled 1,500 to 3,400 prescriptions each day.

                 I prayed throughout the day and was continually reminded of Jesus’ words “It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick.” (Matthew 9:12) Our medical team healed many sick bodies as Jesus can heal all of our spirits through his sacrificial operation and resurrection. All who seek his treatment are healed.

                 Wilber Garcia: a name that will forever echo in my mind and spirit. I was walking on Sewage Street when I heard this earnest shout – “Una biblia en Ingles! Una biblia en Ingles!” An immediate 180 degree turn resulted in a face to face encounter with this Wilber Garcia. An 18 year old Nicaraguan in a salmon colored polo as he donned a crooked yet all toothed smile, Wilber boldly approached me because he wanted my bible. My bible is my most cherished physical possession mainly because it is a tangible manifestation of the enigmatic spiritual. This particular bible is of increased significance to me also because my extraordinary mom bought it for me for my 18^th birthday. As I have carried a compass around the world for my physical location I have carried this bible to reveal my spiritual location. I was split in two. My selfish and sinful flesh yearned to run while my selfless and benevolent spirit passionately hoped to sacrifice this bible to reflect the radiant light of the omnipotent Son. Wilber invited me in to his mud floored home. His family is very large – eight other siblings along with his mother and grandmother. My initial plan was to write his favorite verses in English. His favorite verse: John 3:16. I wrote a few of my favorites for him also – John 3:21, 2 Timothy 1:7 and others. Our conversation was limited by his poor English and my worse Spanish. I could understand that he plays guitar at the church and that he cannot buy his own guitar because his family is too poor. He desired to have my bible because he needed one to help him learn English. His family was fascinated by my presence. I felt how I would expect an exotic painting to feel when a group of people are staring at it. Perhaps I was the funniest looking painting that they have ever seen or maybe they admired the brush strokes that make up my being – I’ll never know for sure. Wilber read from his Spanish bible while I would study and then repeat it in English. His brother gave me some of his pottery that he and his family had made. The more I witnessed Wilber’s passion for truth and for learning the more I desired to aid him in his struggle to transcend poverty. I did not want to give him my bible…………………..But I really did. While we were conversing I prayed about it. The more I internally debated about giving him my bible the more two particular scenarios pounded in my heart, soul and mind. Scenario 1) Jesus saying “Freely you have received, freely give” in Matthew 10:8. Scenario 2) When St. Francis of Assisi (1182 – 1226) was walking on a street he crossed the path of a suffering beggar. Francis and his brothers perpetuated a revolutionary life of apostolic poverty so all he had with him was a New Testament. He freely gave his only bible, this New Testament.

                 I gave up my bible. May God be glorified through my feeble sacrifice and I sincerely hope that Jesus Christ nurtures Wilber to be an extraordinary Christian leader in Nicaragua. Wilber never asked me for money but I ended up giving him $20.00 USD to jumpstart his guitar fund. My inspiration for giving this money? Matthew 5:41 “Whoever asks you to go one mile, go with him for two.” I am pathetic, pitiful, filthy, putrid, selfish and frail. Jesus Christ freely gave his LIFE for us so that we may live – for it is by His ephemeral death that we empowered with the possibility of eternal life, by His redemptive resurrection that we have the eternal hope of reuniting with Him on earth for His second coming (Oh Lord, please come soon but not as I will but as You will), it is through His wounds that we are healed (1 Peter 2:24) and through His blood that we are purified. All of this – The Cleansing Truth – yet I hesitated to give up my replaceable bible and evanescent wealth. I was ashamed at first but now I am overjoyed that Jesus Christ has transformed me so far that I have a compassionate and powerful soul (His presence is my only true power) that transcends my selfish and weak flesh. If you still believe that God is dead then you should ask Wilber. God speaks through us if we are willing to listen, Jesus acts through us if we are willing to surrender to Him and the Holy Spirit performs miracles through us if we are willing to walk by courageous faith instead of obstinate reason.

                 My final words to Wilber and his family were “Dios es amor” (“God is love”) and “Dios les vendiga” (“God bless you”). I returned to my photojournalist duties and then at 3:00pm we packed up. I helped the doctors and dentist and oral hygienists store their equipment into suitcases and then back to our “old school” bus.

                 Our hearts outpoured into our waves as we bid the people of San Juan de Oriente farewell. I will forever reflect on this experience: stained walls, scrawny dogs, mud floors, dirt/sewage roads, no electricity, contaminated chickens and a subsistence people. Be thankful for your beating heart and for the air in your lungs. Each day is a gift from God and each of our complaints inhibit our potential to change our station in life.