Back by popluar demand...my blog has been on hiatus for the last couple of months as I've been swamped learning how to teach English as a second language. I've enjoyed it immensely, its facinating to watch people of all ages as they struggle to obtain the World Language...yes yes, I know, many people argue that its rather Mandarin as more people may speak that then English, but English is still the way business is conducted in most of the world. I have a class of four year olds, hysterical to watch their brains act like sponges as they try to absorb the concept that their teacher really does know how to talk. On more than one occasion, I've watched them turn to each other and say, "She doesn't know how to talk!" I do have to speak Spanish to them on occasion, but they have learned commands like "Sit Down" "Let's Sing" and "Close the Door". My teenagers are teenagers, acting like I've pulled all their teeth out, put them al...
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Today I began teaching English at a local academy. Its a different one than I first thought I would work at...but I'm getting ahead of myself. This spring an academy came knocking at my email box asking from my resume or CV as they call it here. I gave it to them, interviewed, and they thought they might hire me. But, no students appeared. I sent my CV out and another Academy (basically tutoring school, common here) called me. I worked part time for the summer ( 5 hrs a week) and thought it was ok , but there were a few warning bells. First, they implicitly trusted me and threw me this girl I thought was never going to learn. Fortunately she did and passed her exam we studied for. I was shocked. So, I sat down with my potential boss and she handed me 19 hours of potential teaching per week, with the promise of more. I had a small nervous breakdown for the two following days. I refused to answer my cell phone for fear of more work. But my phone persistently ran on Thursday afterno...
Ramadan has begun, and so has the major spiritual event for Granada (after Holy Week). I've discussed the Virgin Patron de las aungustias in an earlier post...so I won't repeat myself. On Wednesday, I did my first bit of public speaking in Spanish at our church. I was asked to lead a devotional at our Wednesday evening prayer meeting. Slightly nervous only right beforehand, I led a short devotional. I've got it typed up in Spanish, so I'll include it below for those who want to critique my Spanish. Essentially, its my thoughts on how Jesus is our only mediator between us and God. We as evangelicals even fall in the trap the Isrealites did at Mount Sinai, we need God to have a face, and so we make friends, family, and other spiritual people our mediators. We have this subconcious thought we act out on a regular basis, and personally I think like the author of Hebrews...we refuse to go to God alone, because we feel guilty. Its easier than to find someone, a Virgin (for t...
Summer is finally ebbing away from the hot desert of Southern Spain. Don't get me wrong, its still around 90 or so degrees here in the middle of the day, but I woke up this morning to see that it was about 15 degrees cooler outside than inside, so I gleefully stopped the air conditioner, and opened all the doors and windows. I'm wearing long pants and a hoodie because it just feels marvelous after 2 months of intense heat. This blog hasn't always been an every day or an every week thing, but that's how life happens. An interesting thing happened this month with it, so this is what I'm talking about today. Apparently a young Indian medical student was feeling very lonely in the Western Suburbs of Chicago. He was on his way to Spain to study Spanish, and feeling very disconnected from his world. Being a Christian, he was encouraged by his church back in India to Google Granada, and Evangelical Church. My blog came up in the few pages that Google could find. He left me...
I"ve taken a stab at writing music lyrics. My inspiration for these below comes from the end of Hebrews 4, where the Author discuss Jesus as our only Mediator. In a Catholic country, those verse soundly kick you in the bum, where its very easy to get caught up in the emotion of the worship of the various Virgins. Jesus, my saviour, You are my great High Priest sitting with the Father. Jesus, my king You stand in the Holy Place so that i may be overwhelmed with mercy, covered in your grace Oh Saviour, Most Holy One, you are worthy to recieve, praise glory and honor, without your blood, my shame would remain. Now you sit on the throne, reigning over the kingdom of light. May your kingdom come!
A couple of weeks ago, a firend talked Andrew and I into going to Hannigans to see a soccer game between England and Brazil. So, I went to go get us some nuts , and three girls were standing at the bar speaking English. Since Hannigans is an English pub, obviously most of their clientale speaks English. I struck up a conversation with these three girls and they asked me where I was from and what I was doing here. I gave them the usual talk, work with a Christian organization, writer, photographer, etc, etc. We had a nice conversation, I found out they had been in Granada all year, loved it. Finally, they turned to me and both said, " What you are doing is incredible, and it makes us feel like what we do isn't important". With that they turned and walked away. I was stunned. I realized what had happened. I was open and honest about who I was. For a few minutes, they saw the light of God, and it made them realized how dark their souls were. They didn't like it, and hid ...
It has been a while since I sat down to blog, as the last two months have been incredibly busy. It's hard to believe its already the middle of June. These last two weeks Andrew has been really sick, sicker than I've ever seen him. You think this would really bring me down, make me feel depressed and low, but this time has been incredible for me spiritually. A quote I saw once by Andres Segovia said this, "I found my voice in Granada." and this has been true for me this last year. Several years ago, I thought I wanted to be a music teacher and so I threw myself into a music major, emphasis piano. I sucked. I could barely make C's and I think the profs gave them to me mostly for effort rather than for what I actually had learned. By the end of that year, I was asked to leave the major. The hardest part of it all is that I was merely sent a letter, rather than asked to do so face to face. I sunk into some serious depression that summer. Slowly I've returned to ...
This past Wednesday I went to worship practice like I do most weeks. After we went through our half a dozens songs and refined our introductions, the pastora , the pastor's wife pulled me aside. She told me to bring my djellaba, or my Moroccan outfit, on Sunday. I was to dress up with several other women and pretend to be the women who found Jesus' tomb empty. I was a little skeptical to say the least, but I agreed to go along with the plan. Andrew laughed when he heard the idea, and he said it sounded hokey . I agreed. However, I still pulled out my orange djellaba, and Andrew found his black one, and off we went yesterday to church. Esther, Nely , Mariene and myself are pictured above, all dressed up and ready to enter the church. We came in from the back, and surprised everyone. We grabbed some people and said “la tumba esta vacia !” The tomb is empty. In a spontaneous way, we told our story, just as if we were the women who went to anoint Jesus' body and found the to...
If I can't write, than I get really grumpy...a paraphrase quote of an interview Newsweek did in the past with Madeleine L'Engle . I echo this feeling. Lately I've been doing a lot of reading. I've been brushing up on my medieval history, as well as reading the thoughts my friends are putting on their blogs. So, my thoughts in writing today are reflective of what I've been reading. My friend James has his blog at www.steepcrag.blogspot.com and I'd recommend reading it. A history teacher currently studying for his Masters in History...he's got some good thoughts this week especially on Holy Week. My friend Jason is a M.Div student at Westminster in Philadelphia and has a blog at www.doyouseegod.com and I've kept up with it for several months. He has this uncanny ability to see God in all sorts of small parts of live, and the even greater ability to share it with people on his blog. And so, what is my blog about? I've been wrestling off and on with ...
I wandered a little further away from Granada last Sunday, and met some really unique people. They live in a place where worshipping Jesus isn't the hip thing to do, but spite of the opposition, they follow him. I wept as I heard them sing, and wept even more when I heard my dad weep. He and I, and many thousands, have prayed for a long time, and I never thought we'd be a part of the miracle. God's gospel, His good news, changes lives, and in the last year and half, I've seen this over and over again. In our western mindset and culture, miracles don't happen. We scorn the Virgen of Lourdes, the pilgrimidge of Mecca, the journey to Santiago. We think people are searching for lost causes, and its true, but we don't offer than any other options, so they continue to march around the black stone, worship at the feet of idols and bloody their toes proving their dedication. We come upon a most holy moment for the Catholic world. In my mind, its both a dark and a light ...
I wandering a little further away from Granada last Sunday, and met some really unique people. They live in a place where Christianity is not yet acknowledged as a legal religon, and so they meet secretly. Ironically, the small building is close to the authorities local hq. I wept as I heard them sing, and wept even more when I heard my dad weep. He and I, and many thousands, have prayed for a long time, and I never thought we'd be a part of the miracle. God's gospel, His good news, changes lives, and in the last year and half, I've seen this over and over again. In our western mindset and culture, miracles don't happen. We scorn the Virgen of Lourdes, the pilgrimidge of Mecca, the journey to Santiago. We think people are searching for lost causes, and its true, but we don't offer than any other options, so they continue to march around the black stone, worship at the feet of idols and bloody their toes proving their dedication. We come upon a most holy moment for t...
Our pastor often begins his prayers with "Padre Santo" or "Padre Nuestro". Holy Father and Our Father are ancient terms, but rarely used in this day and age outside of the Catholic church. I've wondered why he uses these names but enjoy it every time he does. Finally, while he was praying today, it dawned on me. Miguel is an orphan. His mother abandoned him at an orphanage at a young age, and he's never known his father or half siblings. However, at the age of 16, he wandered into an evangelical church, looking for a particular girl. He left instead with Jesus as his Lord. I wonder when he realized that God was his Father. Unlike any man I've met, he knows this with a deep and quiet passion that one only realizes when he starts his prayers with Padre Nuestro. He knows the Father as his one and only.
Today I went wandering by myself up to Guejar Sierra. This is a little village about 20 kilometers outside of Granada. I have a friend named Elke, a German large animal vet, who lives there, actually just outside of the village. She's got 10 horses now, about 4 days, and a plethora of cats. She and her partner are trying to establish a trail riding business. They just purchased 5 more horses, and they desperately need people to come and work out their horses. I can't believe that I live here. This ancient city, nestled among some of the most rugged mountains I've ever seen, is one of the most charming places in the world. I also have the good fortune to know someone who begs me to come ride her horses. It's an incredible opportunity . Millie is a funny Spanish horse that I ride. She walks as if she were dancing, its really funny! My low back usually hurts for days after I ride her, cuz her gait is like most Spanish women, rolling with style. She was a little funky t...
This is me with a a bunch from our church youth group. In November we headed hiking, and had a group of about 20. Starting from the left, Lydia is from Maine, Karen hugging me is from Spain, Jennifer and Helen (?) are from the US, Noemi is the pastors daughter from Spain, and Chad is from Texas. That day we had 4 Brazillians, several Mexicans, about 8 Spaniards, and several Americans. Because of this trip, the 4 Brazillian guys started attending regularly, and now come every week. They came to church for the first time last month, and now bring more of their friends to the Saturday night meeting.
I still get the shivers when I sing with our church band. For about two years now, every wednesday night I head down to our little church. Usually its me, the pastor's wife, Esther, and about half a dozen other musicians or aspiring musicians. We practice for about an hour and half, and have a great time. One reason I get the shivers is that we always have numerous nationalities represented. Last night was like any other night in that we had one American (me), a Mexican, a Brazillian, a Madrileno (pastor's wife) a Panamanian, a Andulucian, and a Basque. I list the Spaniards from their region, as Spaniards are incredibly faithful to their region, rather their country. The Basque girl Miriam plays the flute, and she always bristles when you refer to her as a Spaniard. She's incredibly nationalistic, and it cracks me up. I think its amazing that we hail from all over the world, from different denominations, from different point of view on worship, and we somehow all come toge...
Today Andrew and I wandered around Bradfield, England. This weekend we have popped up to England thanks to the incredibly cheap flights offered by ryaniar ( www.ryanair.com ) We have old friends here in Bradfield, Western England, and we've come up to visit them three times now in the last two years. It is always a wonderul, quiet, relaxing break, even if just for a few days. This time we came for a wedding, a friend of Andrew's, named Andrew Koons. He married a little English girl named Clare, who he met while in Papau New Guinea serving with Wycliffe. She is a schoolteacher, and he is a great big motorcycle mechanic. It was a sweet wedding, a quiet reception, and a beautiful, sunshiney, rare, English winter day. Enhorabuena Andrew y Clare! Tomorrow evening we trek back to Spain, adopt my cousin Sam for 2 weeks, have more guests wander through our house, and try desperately to finish the Uganda project and hopefully prepare for another media project. Rest for Andrew and I has ...
I spent some time talking to a friend last night, telling him about all the things that are going on here in Granada. He said, YOU HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT THIS, so Jason, here it goes. One of the things that keeps Andrew and I both here is the youth ministry. The city of Granada has over 70.000 students, more if you include the thousands that flock here for language school. Right now, Campus Crusade and Intervarsity have a limited reach, and so the rest is left to the little Baptist church. Many of our members have been perturbed in the past that they can't find seats on Sunday morning because of all the students! However, we along with the pastor and wife, have explained that this is part of the ministry here in Granada. Saturday night, we had about 20 students for youth group, and we showed them the movie, The End of Spear. If you all have missed out on this, please go find a copy and watch it this week. Since it was in English with Spanish subtitles, I wasn't sure how things woul...
This whole Christmas season really started when Andrew and I went to the biggest theater in town to hear our church choir sing a Christmas Cantanta . Somehow doors were opened , and the mayor’s office of Granada allowed our church to throw a free concert . Over 500 people were in attendance . The theater is called Isabelle the Catholic , and to me it was amazing that a little evangelical Baptist church was allowed to sing freely about Christmas and the Gospel . We went to the concert with a couple of friends , one of them named Pablo. Pablo is from Argentina , but has lived here in Spain for a lot of years . He’s been reluctant to meet evangelicals as he believes they are all hypocrites . However , we had a good time with him and his girlfriend later that afternoon as a few of us went out for some pizza . A few days later was Christmas Eve or Nochebuena ( Go...