The anonymous writer strikes again!

The Venezuela YES team would like to apologize to its readers for once again failing to include the author's name in a blog entry.

"Venezuela mini-YES Training" was written by Jonathan Landis.

Thank you for your attention.

Oh the Joys of Traveling by Lauren Yutzy

It was 2 o clock at night when the team was abruptly awaken by a military guard asking us for our passports. We were on a bus traveling back to Charavalle from Merida where the team went on vacation. In Venezuela there are random checkpoints with guards. Before this night though, none of the guards had ever come on board any of our buses. We gave the guard the copies of our passports, and he left the bus with them only to return a little later and motion for us to follow him. The team filed off the bus and was lead to a small outpost, where the head guard had our passport copies spread out in a line. His first words were ¨what are these?¨ And he gave us a hard time about not having our actual passports because he needs to see when we arrived and when we are leaving Venezuela in order to make sure that we weren't traveling illegally. We weren't getting anywhere until Irene remembered that she did have her actual passport, so she ran and got it. Once he looked at hers he reluctantly let us go. I'm not sure what would have happened if Irene hadn´t had her passport. Some people think he was looking for a bribe. Thanks to God, though we made it safely home.

And now we are down to only three weeks left. We are busy with random social events, finishing sanding and varnishing desks, and English classes. Anthony, Jon and I teach the English class for kids Wednesday afternoons. We have 5 (adorable!) girls who come every week. I always look forward to class because I love teaching! So far we have taught colors, numbers, animals, fruits and vegetables. While all 5 of the girls are mischievous, 2 are especially so. Every Wednesday those two try my patience, but I am learning right along with them every class except I'm learning how to teach, how to show tough love, and how to have patience. Because the class is only once a week and for only two hours, the kids aren't learning an incredible amount. Every week we have to reteach what was taught the week before, which can be discouraging. However nothing beats the joy the student and I share when they do remember and it shows that they have been practicing and studying at home. They are going the extra mile because they want to learn. I love being a part of that and being able to help them along on their path of learning!

Venezuelan Mini-YES Training

It was March 23rd, ten minutes past 6 pm, and I was nervous.

"We're not ready. I haven't finished the powerpoint presentation yet. Where's Anthony with the 60 copies we made of the notes? Will we have enough notes? The kids that were just here, where did they go? Will we have ANY kids? What TIME is it?!?"

We were experiencing some difficulties. Having just returned from Valle Guanape late Saturday evening two days before, and having been in Aruba to renew visas the week before that, we hadn't had much time to get this opening class together.  I felt caught unprepared for what might prove to be the most significant thing we do here in Venezuela: pass along three months of YES training in 5 one hour-long class periods to the youth of the church. In Spanish.

 

We had planned to give 6 classes in all: Inner Healing and Forgiveness, Sexual Purity, Identity in Christ, Dying to Self, Decision-making/Conflict Resolution/Christlike Relationships, and Crossing Cultures related classes. Each of which Irene and I had to translate into Spanish, not just the lecture, but the notes as well. We had made a poster and hung it up in the sanctuary. There were notices in the bulletin and on the powerpoint

announcements that these classes were taking place on such days, at such a time, and that anyone was invited (which was news to me when I read the notice). Despite the promos, the only reason we had anyone at our first class was because the youth worship choreography team happened to be practicing that afternoon and Pastor Ceferino insisted that they stay for our class, which he assured them would be short. 

Maybe because the leader of the worship choreography team is the Pastor's nephew or maybe because they wanted to be hospitable to the foreigners or maybe because, let's not totally discount this possibility, they actually wanted to come, they stayed. As nervous as I was (and I was only running powerpoint), Irene was more so. She does not like teaching children much and she likes standing in front of lots of people her own age even less. She needn't have worried. Though shaking faintly at first, she soon found her stride, prompting laughter at her spontaneous jokes and nods of agreement at the relevance of her elaborations.

Over all, the class was well received and provoked enough interest that we had a similar number of young adults and teenagers, some new, attending our second class on Sexually Purity the following Thursday. There had been some discussion about whether or not we should even give this class. Irene had not understood much of the class back in the States and was worried that it wouldn't speak to Venezuelan reality (according to the Pastor's daughter) where even within the church, the youth are already sexually active. I countered that if that is the reality, it should be more necessary for us to present this class rather than less. We would just have to talk about it differently: stress why sexuality purity is important and desirable up front using LOTS of scripture references to back up our claims rather than just leaving it at our say so and then ending with a section about how even though their state of virginity may have ended, sexuality purity is a lifestyle that God can restore to us, again with lots of scripture. I wanted to leave them with hope rather than guilt.

Even though convinced of its necessity, I was still scared to teach this class. I expected one of two responses: loud, angry, physical protests at my impossible challenge or smug snickering as the naive American cluelessly insisted on boredom. Instead, the class went over well. Surprisingly, we even had a great discussion about the negative effect the surrounding culture has on behavior and thought patterns towards purity. I felt like these kids, or at least the vocal ones, were also convinced that this was an important topic, one worth fighting for.

They also had enough interest in the classes and respect for us to ask if we could postpone the class for the following night since it was the first night of Holy Week vacation and they were going to a weekend lock-in of sorts as an evangelism tool for their unsaved friends. I was impressed that they had asked, let alone that they had coordinated this other event. We agreed since it looked like our whole class had already planned to go to the lock-in. Truth be told, I was glad for the break because translating 3 or 4 pages of notes plus other handout material pages the day of the first class and over the next two days for the second had taken quite it's toll on me.

Having made good use of Holy Week to finish Tuesday the 6th's class (notes, extra handouts, lecture, and powerpoint), I felt much more prepared going into my lecture on Identity in Christ (with a brief plug for dying to self since there was no time to fit in a 6th class). It was so good to see that our little group came back. There's no longer the obligation to come. No one is standing over them forcing them to come this week. They want to be here. I want to be here. 

 

Learning from our mistakes and improving on what we had already done helped us this past second week to feel more confident and more prepared in giving the classes, and I think our preparation made the classes more interesting and more valuable for the kids who attended the classes too. Irene's class on decision -making / conflict resolution / Christlike relationships on Thursday and our joint class on cross cultural understanding both went so well that the kids were asking if there were more classes. I'm going to choose to believe that's because they wanted more classes not because they wanted to make sure they didn't have to go to anymore. Regardless, we've been faithful in carrying out what Pastor Ceferino asked of us, what we also feel God called us to do. We've planted the seeds, now we have to trust that God will continue to work unseen in these kids lives.

Oh well. I know it may not seem like much, but looking back on these classes now that they're over, I feel like Moses looking over the Red Sea. What lies behind me used to look like an vast expanse, impossible to cross, and You brought me through it, Lord. We made it.

It's a good feeling.

The all-night prayer vigil of April 1st: a story of His workmanship

¨My soul shall make its boast in the Lord, the humble shall hear of it and be glad...I sought the Lord and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed. The poor man cried out, and the Lord heard him...the angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him and delivers them...the Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves those who have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all...the Lord redeems the soul of His servants, and none of those who trust in Him shall be condemned¨¨ -Psalm 34

¨¨Heaven is My throne, and earth is My footstool. Where is the house that you will build Me? and where is the place of My rest? ...But on this one I will look, on him who is poor and of a contrite spirit, and who trembles at My Word.¨¨-Isaiah 66:1,2b

“…that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection of the dead,”(Philippians 3:10).

The evening began, hot enough that the drops of sweat re-clung to your face minutes after washing yourself in cold water. I emptied all of my water and still felt the thirst, as the last group of us piled into the church-rented bus and drove into the night, with excited faces and conversations. The bus rumbled and jostled through roads that led us to a quiet residential area with trees and a small road, and we came to the appointed place, an area with a large tree in the middle of it and many chairs for the congregants. We were to be awake all night, and to be prepared in our hearts for the Lord to impart things to us.

The night was slowly becoming cooler into the morning, the dust-tinted orange moon hanging like a lantern in the sky. The air was quiet and still all around us except for the booming voice of the speaker at the microphone or the praises of the singers and congregants of Shalom. Personnel were stationed around the borders of the plot of land, and I knew what they were doing: securing the territory with constant prayers. (The spiritual realm consists in territories and borders as real as those of the physical).

I was doing fine, singing praise songs. After the singing and declaring praises into the night, it was time for the speaker to preach. Not long into his sermon, the words began cutting into my heart, bothering me and making me angry as they hit an obstinate wall of fears and protests. He was saying that we are responsible for every minute we lose on this life to reach people for eternity. "Why isn't there a gospel for imperfect people?", I protested inside, feeling a wall of expectations for following Him that I could not meet, and so I got up from my seat to drink water and slump fitfully next to a tree outside where everyone was gathered but within full view of them. Eventually I realized that it was logically better for God to have us improve in righteous actions than it was for God to throw up His hands and let everything slide because we're imperfect humans. Realizing once more, of course, that His ways are good and mine are the ones that need continual improvement, I apologized to Him but was left in kind of a bad mood. The thing that cheered me was looking up and witnessing a previously unsaved man, the husband of a Christian lady in the church, come forward to repent and receive Jesus as His Savior. As he was prayed over, I joined the others in jubilant celebration.

Later a group of youth flocked around me. As they participate as dancers for the church sometimes, we also danced together to some of the songs. All night I had been thinking of dancing for Him, dancing as I once used to do frequently, as if it were only He and I in a room. And as I began to try to dance, one of the youth came and was showing me, “No that's the wrong way to dance. This is how it goes.” My arm followed the command but without heart. Dancing, one of the last things I thought that I still could do all for Him, now seemed to have become not a God-thing but a people-thing. From here my thought life began to spiral into failures and things from the past. It got to the point where I despaired inside of ever being able to serve the Lord in any capacity at all. "I can't anymore... I can't function, how do I live? What do I do in my life at all?" My tears were the culmination of recent months of inner struggles, wondering how to live in Him, who I am to be in Him, how He can stand me or whether He will leave me to slip if I fail to obey Him, etc. I remembered how Noemi, my host sister, had earlier preached, “Prepare your hearts for Him to do something tonight!” But in my heart, I said somewhat bitterly, “Now He can’t do anything for me, and the night is almost over!”

Then another speaker stood up. His Spanish rang through the air like a clear bell. “Someone here tonight has said, ‘No more. I can’t any longer. What do I do?’”

My ears perked up to listen. “My Daughter...” I heard him say the words as if God were speaking to me alone: my daughter.

What he said – the words of God through the mouth of the man – went something like this (though perhaps not in this order).

¨¨ I have been holding your hand this whole time. I have never left you alone (I had earlier that night just finished accusing Him of doing just that). Why are you dismayed inside, why are you cast down? (reminding me of the words in psalm 42). Nothing can separate you from my love...the work that I have begun in you I will complete until the end. (two verses that have been special to me this year but which I did not really believe because they seemed like only words on paper). Today is the day to rise. Take up your Cross. (This gave me chills up and down my spine; it was not just some cutesy human encouragement, and upon hearing it my doubts about whether it was just a person or God speaking vanished). I love you. I love you! I will not throw you away! I will not throw you away! (addressing precisely the thing I have feared, and I have feared it after realizing that walking after Jesus is also a matter of righteousness and not only of one time saying you are His). Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Why don’t you come closer to Me? Why don´t you come closer to Me?... You say that you cannot, but you can. You can! ¨¨

The words stilled me. They spoke exactly to me. So I figured that the least I could do was respond to his call to come forward, and kneel there with two other women who also came up. And we spoke as he prayed, repenting of accusing Him and entertaining doubts and thanking Him.

I came back and the rest of the morning, I was very quiet, as if finally anchoring on an island after a turbulent storm, not knowing how to share this with other people (and I wanted to process it with Him first). I was becoming tired and dizzy, playing with a stick and wearing the newest and most economical style of “backpack” ( a brown plastic bag whose handles I had draped around my shoulders). I had near me one of the youth, who this night had also spoken words from Him to me at about the same time as when the speaker did. One of the pieces of her counsel had to do with a metaphor of being caught between a sword and a wall, something I had (I am not joking) written about in my journal not three days before (I am convinced she was speaking through Him about this and other things because I know she had neither read my mind nor my journal).

This year I have been confronting struggles, fears, and questions regarding who I am and how to follow Jesus faithfully. The process began (in December) with learning that I needed to crave the Lord instead of craving things like food and coffee (however good they are!), and beginning to feel more of a hunger for Him each day. Then upon coming to Venezuela, I began to notice and read about the sharp contrast between His holiness and the works of fleshly human nature. Walking down the streets observing the Carnaval that celebrates Baal and earthly pleasures, I contrasted this with the Narrow Way of Jesus, then tried to figure out which category my own words and actions belonged to. In this examination of myself I saw myraid weaknesses, such as worry/lack of firm decisions about the future, and stinginess/worry over my money supply here, among other things. I woke up one morning with the devestating thought that none of the little things I was doing every day to be busy or nice were His works, but only works done on my own strength. Questions arose about the connection between salvation, His love, and obedience/righteousness. I began turning up almost everything I had learned over the years, and remember many moments from the past that had to do with some teaching about God. In my fear and weakness with this process, I began to conclude that I was stuck between a sword (the death that happens when you turn back to the world and away from God) and a wall (the seeming impossibility of being righteous or obeying Him in things that you don´t really want to do). I felt insecure in all ways possible, even in salvation. At one low point I decided that even if I could be sure of nothing else, I knew that God would rather me seek Him than give up seeking Him, and I held onto that, hoping against hope He would intervene. I realized that there is no one like Him on the whole earth to really talk to; deep things that who but He could understand or heal? Many times I did not know who to talk to at all. And the Lord has been helping me. Breakthroughs have been coming this month; where He helped me make decisions about the future, and spoke to me through His word and other people, including during the vigil. There are still many things to process and turn up, and much armor and strength to build up in Him. Meanwhile, the wonderful blessing of sweet fellowship with His people remains, and what of Him redeeming my life and redeeming His time?

-Victoria!, the voice calls out from behind me in the bakery in Charallave on the third afternoon later. To my delight it is the husband of Zoraida, the man from Colombia whose faith in Him has been borne out of fire. His friend and brother in Christ, who is one of the (physically) blind that can see, is with him.

-Are you coming to the house today?, he asks

(I am at this point looking flustered from thinking about the week´s and the day´s myriad plans)

-No, i already called Zoraida, we are scouting for a campsite for the youth camping on the 17th.

-God will redeem the time, and bless it; He is in each day; there is not a need to worry yourself..., he says- (Him redeeming the time!)

-Sometimes I do not want to be here or anywhere, and I wish to be with Him already.

-(a smile) That is just like something Paul said. We are pilgrims on this earth...

-Yes, we do not belong here.

-How was the vigil?, he asks

-It was tremendous. God spoke to me. And I was crying earlier, thinking, He can´t help me now.

-(a beautiful, wonderful smile lights up his face) He saves/is close to the humble...

Then he proceeds to buy two very sweet small chocolately cakes for me and Anthony, which in Venezuela are well decorated and somewhat expensive sweets, and with his benevolent smile and blessing in the Lord, he and his friend, one of the blind who can see, say goodbye and depart to mount the motorcycle outside the shop.

Valle Guanape (Anthony)

What a time we're having. I know that they don't keep stats on this kind of thing, but it feels like our team has to be about the busiest YES team ever. We just got back March 20th from a week in Valle Guanape (a small village near Charallave). A married couple in the church travels this 3 hour trip every two weeks and leads the people in devotional and prayer times for a couple days. They wanted to take us with them for the experience so we took off last Saturday morning and spent the week with them.

All 5 of us stayed with a local family in their small house. We provided all their food, as well as ours, for the week as a repayment for staying in their house. It was a very simple place: 2 small bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom, and a decent sized "living room" where everyone camped out for the night. Our week consisted of visiting the sick and elderly, teaching classes to the kids, and holding nightly services for the community. It was a good experience and an opportunity to visit a different part of the country and make some new friends.

We spent the afternoons resting up and the evenings working with the kids. It was somewhat encouraging to see more and more kids appear every night to spend time with us. At the same time, I couldn't escape the feeling that we were considered more like novelties than friends. By the time our final night rolled around, we had over 50 kids show up to the "fiesta" that we had promised them. We had planned a variety of games and activities to pass the time, and everything went really well. It is challenging, though, keeping a group of kids that big under control when only two of us can communicate fluently with them.

We had saved a big bag of blown up balloons for the end to make swords, animals, and hats for the kids. They were beginning to get antsy so we ended our games and made the mistake of telling them that we were finishing with the balloons. Before we knew what was happening, all 50 kids stampeded toward that poor bag of balloons and dog piled on top of it. Unfortunately, balloons don't hold up very well under that kind of pressure. When we finally pulled all the kids off, there were only a few balloons left. The sad part about the whole thing was that we had way more than enough balloons for all them. We had one other bag of normal balloons that we still hadn't used, and Lauren thought it might be a good idea to distribute the few we had left. She was fighting for her life, however, as soon as the kids caught sight of them. We ended up dismissing all of them with nothing because of their poor behavior.

Working with kids is something I love to do. I love to be a role model and watching a child grow up right before your eyes is one of life's greatest blessings. When I start working with a group of kids, I can instantly pick out the ones I would like to mentor and form a close relationship with. I found those kids in Valle Guanape as well. This made it all the more frustrating that we had to end our time with them in that way, and it provoked all kinds of questions of what we could have and should have done to avoid it. The most discouraging part was realizing that we would be leaving in the morning, never to see these kids again, and there is still so much work to do.

As I was relating these thoughts during evaluation time, Lilibet encouraged me with 1 Corinthians 3:6-8. "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor." All that really matters now that the week is over is what God has worked in the hearts of these little ones. And truth be told, all we were doing was continuing to "water the seeds" that someone else had sown. The only thing left for me to do is pray for the continued work of the Holy Spirit in their hearts. It was a good word and very valuable as I continue to pursue what God has for me in these last 6 weeks.
s.

Hay Agua!

-Lauren Yutzy

It’s almost 6, Vicki and I wander around the apartment with the water faucets turned on. The water had been turned off all day and when we found out a time that water would be turned on for only a half hour- everything else is dropped and our lives revolve around the coming of water. 6 rolls around and we hold our breath until 6:03 when the blessed sound of water comes rushing out of the faucets. The whole neighborhood celebrates together with shouts of Hay agua! (There is water!) Now that there is water the work starts: there is a sink full of dishes that need to be washed, a load of dirty laundry to do, water to boil for drinking water, the bucket in our bathroom to fill so that on mornings without water we can take a bucket bath, and showers to take if wanted. Vicki and I split up the duties and get started. I have never appreciated having running water at anytime like now. I think one of the best showers I have ever had was a cold bucket bath that I didn’t think I would get because I had missed all the times when the water was turned on and the only reason I got this one was because the water was left on past the time that it was supposed to be shut off. Water is a luxury that I didn’t realize I had in the US.

Prayer requests: continued bonding with the people at this church, patience with the language and different time management, and for sanity with all of the plans given to us without enough time to do them all.
thanks for reading! Dios te bendiga!

Cross-Cultural Understanding

By Irene Menendez:

That is very important for this trip, I think. I really believed I knew latin culture but now, I know it isn't true. I have lived with Latin people in Spain but it's not the same as living with them here, in a Latin country. Venezuelan society is hospitable, friendly, affectionate...but it is also chauvinistic and idolatrous too.

I realized we live in comfortable and preferencial countries. I don't say that for material comforts as much as for spiritual comforts. This country has a great pressure of the enemy. In the beginning I thought the people here were very spiritual people, but really they need to be like that because the enemy uses each little detail or neglect to have power over them. He uses traditions, ignorance, inheritances...We complain about our country because we think that being young is difficult because we can't do some things like other young people can and they see us as odd people if we are really Christians; but here...I think you know, most people believe in God, but there is a great step between believing in God and following Him. Here people don't see you as odd if you say you love Jesus. Here the problem is to have to live in a bubble because most of the society is contaminated with the enemy, and for that reason, parents try to overprotect their kids.


Really this is not the theme about which I wanted to speak, but I thought it was important. It is a new theme. Some conversations with people here were about that, and while they haven't persuaded me, they have opened my eyes about that. Our society is a equal society relatively. Women and men have the same rights and duties. The road in our society to be in this position was long and difficult, and through it we won some things, but we lost a lot of good things too. Here they continue to practice the custom that a woman finishes working when she gets married, and she is at home and with kids. Women have to submit to men but really they have power just not principal power. They have other good things like have more kids for family and women use to sit before.

This society is so different, and some people say it is backward, but I see it with respect even though some things I do not agree with. There are other good customs that we have lost and it only merits respect.