Okay, I totally didn't get kicked out but I hate titles that say, "China Recap." It sounds so boring.
In typical World Race fashion I have about 10 minutes to write a blog before I depart to Kenya where team Judah will be paired up with Karis and Hebzibah. Expect grammatical errors and choppy sentences as I try to briefly cover this absolutely amazing month. I will do my best to write more once I get a chance. To see some videos you can check out my teammates blogs or my smugmug site which is www.marisabanas.smugmug.com. I finally downloaded some of my Philippine pictures on that site. Allison Johnston worked with us this month and she has a good China video on there so check out her blog. Because of the sensitive nature of just about everything we did there won't be many pictures of the people or work that we did so bear with us.
As we entered our first city where we were scheduled to minister for about 10 days I felt a little like Jason Bourne in the movie Bourne Identity. I was incognito, a "tourist, just traveling through learning about Chinese culture." As we walked throughout town I practiced my Bourne skills as I kept a look out for secret police and the PSB. My team and I spoke in code and when we shared we did our best to do so under the power and conviction of the Holy Spirit. Our words were anything but flippant for the simple fact that we carried the power to set somebody free as they heard the name of Jesus or get us kicked out of the country forever for spreading the gospel.
On the first day we met a brother the same age as me who leads an underground church. We were able to worship and prophesy over some of his members. Throughout the week we used the daunting task of teaching English as a vehicle to share the love of Christ. I was given the opportunity to sit with a couple of people as they prayed for the first time in their lives. The first was a student who had insurmountable pressure on him from his family and school. My teammate John and I introduced him to the name of Jesus for the first time in his life! He had NEVER heard the name before. At the end of our discussion he decided that he wanted to pray, which was also a first time experience for him. As he bowed his head he quickly looked up and said, "Wait, wait, does God speak in Chinese?" I felt like I was going to leap out of my chair with joy. My eyes were stuck on him as he watched John pray for God to ease the pressure of his exams. He had the same expression on his face as I had on mine when I saw my friend Melissa have her baby. Whenever I think of the definition of the word "awe" I will always remember his face.
There are so many stories like this but I cannot tell them all to you. I did however want to mention that we did travel to the epicenter where the Earthquake took place. I met a precious woman there that took us up to a cliff that overlooked one of the towns that was hit the hardest. The entire town is now entirely evacuated. I watched her point to two buildings and listened to her say, "My husband is under that building and my only daughter is under that one." Chinese people are supposed to "save face" and not show any type of emotion, but that afternoon we all cried.
As the month progressed the Lord impressed many things upon me. The first and most prominent was that he gave me the ability to pray for extremely long periods of time. Generally my attention span is the size of a pea so this was really God's Grace pouring over me. I had an absolute blast waking up at all times of the night with a name of a person sharply impressed upon me. I felt as if I were moving mountains just like the one that I saw move near the epicenter.
It seems that each month has had a definite theme for me and my month in China heavily involved God speaking to me clearly though prayer. There was one specific day that I wanted to hit the streets to meet people but my partner for that day, Bekah felt that we were supposed to go back to the hostel to pray. Surprisingly I agreed and boy did that work out for me. I had a wild prayer experience that rocked both Bek and I and the whole thing ended up lasting two days. I'm telling you, God is so fun. The coolest part of this story is that when I finally got reconnected with the internet I had an email sitting in my box that was written on the same day at the same time that we were praying. My friend had emailed me a dream that woke her up at 3:00am USA time. She said that it was so vivid and clear that she had to email it right away. The dream detailed everything that happened in the span of those two days. Bekah and I were floored as we read the mails. I'm telling you, if you just give up all of your legitimate questions and simply believe, God will answer all of your questions in mysterious ways. It's tough letting go, but c'mon, how cool is it to go through 2 days of intense prayer and worship only to have a friend have a dream and replay back to you everything that happened.
So thank you to everyone who has been praying for me and who reads my blogs. Thank you also for responding and encouraging me. Let's see what else. I feel like I just won a Grammy. Thank you Mom and Dad for meeting me in Beijing and letting me and my nasty backpack stink up your hotel room for a couple of days. My teammates are still telling me how they loved mom's spunkiness and that I look like my daddy. I keep trying to tell them that you guys get your good looks from me. And last but not least, thank you Bekah for letting me be me. Our friendship is anything but random. You inspire me, lady. Keep pushing me--you might need to start pumping some weights because I am gaining a few kilos on this rice diet and I may be getting a little harder to push.
Obviously there are 4 feet, two from an adult and two precious little ones from a toddler. I bet that you would never see or assume the truth behind this image, this haunting portrait. The two little feet that you just see were sold for $60 US Dollars to a pimp.
A three-year old turned sex slave. His name is Michael Angelo.
Welcome to Navotos, where Michael lives!
Navotos is a community of 10,000 people who live on top of tombs in a graveyard in the Philippines. Michael lives in the part of the community that is raised about 12 feet off Manila Bay's polluted waters. All 9 of his family members live in a 2-story makeshift squatter home. Most of the bottom level is rotted out and can't be used. You get up to the top floor by climbing a slippery ladder and once you get up to the top, you realize that this family literally has nothing. Each child has one shirt. Some don't even have pants. The baby's bottom is diaperless and the severe rash has bubbled his skin over to look like a think crust. Michael spends all day alone in the house with the baby and his other 2-year old brother while his father and mother go out to try to find work so that they can eat. His older siblings are left to govern themselves and find work.
When the pimp came to the door with a picture in her hand, the family thought that their luck had changed. She promised them that by giving Michael to her they would become rich. She said, "At the age of 20 Michael will come back to you with a million dollars and you will not have to struggle like this anymore." She also promised that Michael would be taken care of and treated like a king at his new home in Japan. The exchange was made. A child for $60.00. A poor boy turned to "king" in a matter of minutes.
PCF has 2 schools., one in the dump and the other in the graveyard. One of the teachers found out about Michael Angelo and notified the social work department at the school. Three of the social workers decided, despite how scared they were that they were going to do something about this tragedy. They worked tirelessly to find out all the details. They discovered that the pimp worked for a couple who live and own a bar in Japan. They also sell children undercover. The pimp became pregnant herself about 4 years ago and it was decided by her boss that she would pimp out her own child when he was around 3-years old. The time had come for her to give up her son but she could not bring herself to do it. She took a picture of her son around the Navotos village to find a child that looked like her son. When she found Michael Angelo, she found a way to save her own flesh and blood.
The social workers called the mother into the school, sat her down and scared the heck out of her. They told her that the adoption was illegal and that she could be put in jail if she didn't get the child back. The conversation took hours before tears streamed down her eyes because she realized that her child would be used for sexual pleasure by a man 4 times his size. They said that it took her about another hour to find the courage to go to the pimp's house to retrieve her son.
On June 15, 2008 at 12:00am, mere hours before the child was scheduled to leave the country and fly to Japan, Michael Angelo was back in her arms.I asked the social worker, do you think she will sell him again? She shrugged her shoulders and said, "We will notify the police to arrest her is she does. She is still thinking about that million dollars."
Last week I had the pleasure of photographing Michael Angelo. He didn't smile too much. Perhaps the shock of a white woman with a huge camera and lens planted right on him was a little shocking. His face was severely bruised because he had fallen through one of the cracks in the floor. The dark color around his lips is not chocolate, it is dried blood. I don't know how survived the fall a 12 foot fall. It's as if the Lord's hand is on this child. When I left the rickety house I turned back and saw his little head peaking out of a make-shift window. Through his swollen check and black eye he surprised me with a smile that radiated joy into my entire body. In the frozeness of this scared child I saw a glimmer of hope. He waved his tiny little hand frantically from side to side in such excitement as he sent me off in a heart-felt joyful goodbye.
I stopped by the house one more time before leaving to see if I could find the mother and tell her that there was no million dollars, but we couldn't find her anywhere. Michael was alone in the house with his two other siblings. This time, I captured his little head peaking out for you. So you will remember him. Remember his bruises and his face. Remember that he was sold and then saved. Remember him, pray for him, and give your money to send missionaries to do the work of getting children like him out of danger and back in the Father's arms!
This blog is not appropriate for children to read.
There he was, a man in a pink t-shirt. I saw him walk over to my table in his distinct stride. He made me uneasy and I didn't even know his name. He was bald and American looking, but dark all the same. I sat clicking away at my computer as one of our guys played nice with him. He answered all the getting to know you questions, but failed to answer why he made me squirm. He seemed lost but normal. He was from the states, hadn't been home in a few years and bounced around from country to country throughout Asia. He didn't say specifically why he liked the Philippines the best, but I had an idea. Our hostel where we both stayed was right smack dab in the middle of the Red Light District.
As the night went on my uneasy feeling was satisfied with proof of why he made me squirm. Mr. Pink Shirt brought a few Asian women to our table. His control over them bit at me like a shark. In his repitour of women, there was a young one probably around 16 years of age. She was beautiful and innocent. He said to her, "I am getting you drunk tonight." She sank back in her chair as her olive skin blushed red. She begged for escape, "I've never been drunk....please." My heart broke.
When Pinky got up from his throne to refill his wine glass the girl tried to leave. He caught her and in a creepy sicko voice he said, "eh, eh, ehhh..." I wanted to scream. I wanted to castrate him. I wanted to put a mirror up to his face so he could see the disgusting person that he had become.
I prompted the Lord, "Tell me to do something. Right now. I'll do anything, just SPEAK!" ...Nothing. I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my chair out, (half tempted to pick it up and slam it over his head) and dismissed myself.
The next morning I woke up early. My knees hit the ground and my fury was unleashed. Just as I did in the beginning of the month with the two small boys in the garbage pile, I begged for the answer to my question. Are you going to allow me to be a missionary that does absolutely nothing! His answer was not the one that I was hoping for. Instead I heard him say, "Don't touch him, he's my son and I love him." I was flabbergasted. How could God take the side of this heathen rather than the vulnerable 16 year old that didn't know how to defend her innocence? As I continued to pray and try to grasp God's tenderness towards the man I was taken back to my own past. It was as if God asked me, "Where do you think I was when you were doing "that?" "Don't you know that I was with you?" "Don't you know I loved you as much then as I do now?" My anger towards Mr. Pink Shirt suddenly subsided. That is until I saw him again two days later and he had changed his pink shirt to another one that said "Ultimate Sex Champion" on the back of it.
Forgetting my previous prayers, my judgments persisted and Mr. Pink Shirt/Ultimate Sex Champion became my nemesis. Before I knew it the promises of scripture started unveiling themselves in my life. "In the measure you judge you will be judged." Ouch. Judgment is like a weed that fertilizes other weeds. It breeds all kinds of tangled things like bitterness, resentment and the like. The Holy Spirit was like a dripping faucet or the neighbor's dog who you would love to muzzle. Nagging, nagging, nagging, refusing to let me just judge. Asking me to forgive him. Asking me to forgive the men that have burned me in the past. Asking me to forgive myself. This man's constant presence, always there, always birthing thoughts...Drip, drip, drip. Then, suddenly out of nowhere he disappeared. Ahhhhh, his refreshing absence.
It turns out that Mr. Pinky had an ear infection, so he stayed in bed for 3 days. None of us saw him, in fact we thought he left. But he had returned and there he sat, now in a blue shirt on the couch. Then, just as unwelcoming as his presence was to me, a still small voice spoke softly, "Go apologize to him." Gulp.
I sat with my laptop in my lap as if it was going to hide me. My skin, I am sure. had already dressed itself in a blotchy color that would no doubt disclose my true nervousness. I sat next to him on a black leather couch for about an hour until this ridiculously cheesy Wesley Snipes movie that he was watching had finished. The credits rolled, along with the sweat proceeding from my pores. Another gulp. Another whimper to God for one last assurance that I had really heard him correctly. It was a go. Remote in hand he changed the channel to "American Dad." Great, I thought. Now I have to sit though this stupid show to tell him that I am sorry for judging him. My stomach burned.
I couldn't take any more of the show so I decided to Michael Jordan it and Just Do It. I turned towards him and realized that I didn't know his name. Rats! He turned towards me and all I could think to say was, "Have you ever been apologized to by a complete stranger? Nice, Marisa. Nervously I moved the hair out of my face and tried to use my other hand to cover the blotchiness that I am sure had made its way up my neck. I explained to him that when I first met him, I despised him for how he treated the women. I probably could have left some of my feelings unspoken but they seemed to fall out before I could stop them. He chuckled courageiously at each blow. I told him how I prayed and God told me not to touch him, that he was his son and that he loved him. Somehow I found the kahoonas to look him straight in the eye as I apologized. I made sure that he knew that I was sorry for judging him when in fact it wasn't my place, and if the God of heaven loves him, who am I to want to castrate him. Yes, I think I did use that word...probably could have used another vocabulary word.... I ended with my heart on a platter. I told him that we were the same. Any sin that he could ever think to commit was the same as one that I have probably already committed because sin is sin. But, in that God loves us both no matter what we've done. I had said that phrase many other times in many other ways, but never with such sacrifice and conviction. We left each other on a good note and that was it.
As you read my blogs I think you will clearly find that I am searching. I am at a loss as to how I find the courage to click the "make public" button each time I write the confessions of my heart. But something tells me that I am not alone in my journey. Perhaps there are others that would somehow benefit from my ramblings. Maybe they would be encouraged to get real. So that is what I have done. In a sense I have thrown out all my religion and theology in search for a faith that is as pure as gold. In that I am not surprised that my first stopping point was in the dumps---where the lowest of the low hang their heads, nor that I am staying in a hostel that has planted itself on a street inhabited by sex and prostitution. My Lord has positioned me to sit at a low place so that he can show me the depths of his heart. The lesson I am learning: The gospel begins with Love: Unyielding, unending, relentless, aggressive, passionate, love. Oh what a thick skull I have, what a resistant heart. God forgive me.
Is it possible to pray for someone and your prayers for them would actually be answered?
I have wondered this many times, mainly during the ones that seem like they are not being answered.
Tonight, I would have to answer this question and say absolutely, undoubtedly...and with a big scream...YES!!!!!!!
About a month before I came on the race I found a lump on my breast. In the process of trying to get it checked out I found out that my health insurance company had accidentally let me slip through the cracks and there were NO doctors that I could go to. How does that happen.???...plan an 11 month mission trip with full intentions to use all the faith inside of you and you might just find out. In the meantime I was driving through Chicago construction on the interstate and a sign came unbolted and hit my car. Timely, and really frustrating. I was on the phone non-stop and it seemed that every receptionist that I talked to hated her job and could care less that I had a LUMP on my breast. I was low with only helplessness in sight so I sent out an email to my newly developed prayer team. They prayed, and things immediately started happening. I was under the false impression that it takes a lot of time for prayers to get through to God and then work but I couldn't help but to realize that theirs did not. Within a day the bad receptionists must have all gone on a much needed vacation and the nice ones came out of the wood works. The insurance company, that had pretty much left me hanging high and dry suddenly had an option for me and I was able to get things taken care of. And yes, I am cancer-free!
A couple of days ago I had to enlist the troops again. I have been dog sick in the Philippines for 7 days now. Among the
constant, non-stop, gut contracting cough that only allows me to sleep
for moments at a time, I have also been bombarded with nightmares of
evil cats that prowl around me and other horrible things that I have
not had to deal with in a very long time. Some missions trip, huh. You leave all that you have and love to sit baking in
the hostel while your team lives out their faith in one of the most
beautiful dumps on earth. On top of all that crap a "situation"
arose right at the time that I just got sick and the shock of it hit an extremely vulnerable part of me. To say the least, I have been struggling!
However, just like with the lump thing, within hours of contacting my team, relief came----And I am talking about the kind of relief that actually does something and just doesn't give you a warm feeling in your heart tank. I felt something dark leave me. I didn't even realize that I felt something so heavy on me until it was gone. I don't quite understand how the stuff gets on me, but let's just say if the old saying is true, "The devil only hits moving targets" than I am definitely a candidate.
I want to give a heart-felt, much needed , don't know what I would do without you, gushy
dripping with love thank you to all who care and pray for me.
Before I left for this trip I sat on the carpet floor at Beth's and
all the women who have committed to war for me in the Spirit laid their
hands on me and prayed for me like they would pray for themselves. One
of them brought her 8 year old daughter who shared a precious vision
she had while she was worshiping. She told me that she saw me sitting
at a table with Jesus. I got a friend who skips a lot of meals because
she knows what it is like to be a missionary and she knows what fasting
does. I have the Ed on his hands and knees at the wee hours of the
morning and Kris sending me scripture after scripture via email. God
wakes Josh up at crazy times and gives him words of knowledge about
things that are happening to me. The Smith's pray for me every night
before they go to bed, and Meliss, Beth and Brit are praying in between
feedings and nap times. Mom and Dad skype me regularly, and countless
of you comment on my blogs and send emails that thrill my heart. The
Blacks read all my blogs along with all of my other 50 teammates and
they will once again put their busy lives aside (they have 6 active
young kids of their own) and meet us in Hong Kong so they can council and encourage us with their contagious faith.
Who am I that you all would care about me? Who am I that you would put your important and busy lives aside even for just a moment and spend time talking to God on my behalf. Some of you have given sacrificially on my behalf. I can't believe people would fast for me, or give up their lives like the Blacks just to make sure that I am living mine to the fullest of my potential. You guys are crazy! All of you! And I love you like crazy! Thank you for believing. Thank you for praying, and thank you for loving me.
My prayer for you:
Ephesians 1:18 "I pray that the eyes of your heart would be enlightened in order that you would know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and the incomparably great power for those who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at the right hand in the heavenly realms far above all rule and authority, power and dominion and every title that can be given, not only in this age but the one to come.
I am going to post a funny video from the hospital once I can figure it out. If you don't see it on here check back soon.
I once saw a woman missionary who shaved her head because the stress of her life outweighed what she could endure. Her name was Helen and she was simply beautiful. Fair skin, slender body and no hair. With her British accent she told me her story. Newly married, in love with her handsome beau, living in Africa on a chicken farm and incredibly unseen.
I first saw Helen when she briefly walked in front of me. I heard the voice of God say, "The one who was barren will be barren no more." I waited 3 days to tell her. When I finally gathered the courage to confront a woman that I didn't know with such a bold sentence I didn't realize that Helen's story would become part of my own. As she told me about her life I couldn't help but to imagine what she would look like with long, brown flowing hair. I thought to myself, she is living her dreams, how could she ever get to this place of despair? I listened intently as she came to the point of the story where she casually rubbed the stubs of hair on her head while she said, "And that is how this happened." She went on to explain that a woman in Africa does not have rights. Her husband, undeniably a good man, had accidentally neglected her need to be noticed. For a season of her life she was independent, single and strong on her own; but now she had come under the covering of a man who neglected her beauty of mind, voice and Spirit.
"If I could go back I would have never done it, but I was dying inside." The words of the Spirit came back to me, "The one who was barren will be barren no more." The other women who were around us began to pray for this precious jewel. I stood silent in my thoughts, God,Sarai was barren and she felt overlooked, unseen like she wasn't whole, and then you changed her name and brought her a child. When it was my turn to pray, I spoke what God had given me and left with her beautiful face and stubble hair edged in my heart.
I remembered Helen today when I sat alone on a secret porch that I found. The chair that I sat in was broken. With my ears plugged into my ipod I did my best to encourage my stubborn tears to unleash their brokenness. They didn't. They were stuck in me right along with the feelings that were attached to them. I felt like a beautiful bird locked in a cage; like a flower with no sun or water to help her grow. My escape to the undiscovered porch was not enough. To get out the feelings I needed, I had to run farther.
I don't know why I always feel the need to run when things get tough, but I think to myself, If I run nobody can find me. Nobody can hurt me there. When it is just you and I God, nobody will know how we talk and how we love, and then no one can ruin my love with their judgments.
I wanted to run further, but I had to ask permission first. In this city, in this bondage town where the men hunt women to kill their souls, I am not allowed to travel alone lest I become the hunted. The answer was no. No you may not run---my wings clipping on the metal bars of the cage. I walked to the terrace to look upon the street where I wanted to walk to seek refuge. I could see my destination, but I wasn't allowed to run to it, which just so happened to be the reason that I wanted to run. I wanted to scream, I wanted break something, I wanted to.... cut off my hair.
I am told with utter sincerity and challenge by those who care, "Marisa, be yourself...don't be afraid to be yourself." Yourself. Who am I but a little girl without a brain who chases after what she cannot explain. Who am I but one of the many who has lost everything for what is way over her head.
The other night I found a place to worship at the school in the dump. It was dark and no one could see me. I stood at the end of a dark hallway and the only light that shone through was a speck of light that pierced through a small patch of fencing that covered an open spot on the wall. As I spread out both of my hands to my side I could feel the cold walls touch the palms of my hands. They held me in the cage. I could see the light but I couldn't run to it, the fence blocked me. But then a creative thought came. I could sing. So I did, I sang praise after praise to my God while dancing down a dark hallway in a dump. I thought, My body can be caged in, but my praises could never.
Tonight I am broken and I did not feel like praising so I sang extra loud with all of my wanting heart. Sarai had a hard time believing the promises of God over her life when she was helpless in her state of barrenness, just like me. But I have one thing up on Sarai, and that is that I know the end of her story. I know how Isaac came from her womb even at her old age. If she would have known the end in the beginning, she would have never laughed when the Angel came and told Abram that she would have a child. So, despite what I feel and all that I don't understand and all the ugly voices that lurk, I will sing.
We are in the Philippines until October 26th. I will not have any internet access from the 26th to Turkey Day. I won't even have my computer with me. I will catch up with you again at the end of November. We are going to the country where people that I know closely live. That is all I can say. I really suck at this whole confidential thing.
Health:
The entire team has been struck with sickness. Some a little more on the severe side, others not so bad. We have had 2 with food poisoning and the rest have had terrible congestion due to the air quality at the dump. Most everybody has had either diarrhea or constipation. (That might be a little strange to hear in the states but it is common talk around these parts.) I however have had almost pristine health. Thank you so much for your prayers. Last night we stayed at the dump for most of the evening and the air quality was at its worst. You could see the smog and all of us came home with coughs. This morning I woke up with congestion in my chest so I decided to stay home. I am not sick, just taking precautions so that I don't end up really sick. Aaron is probably the worst out of all of us so please soak him in prayer.
Work:
This month has been all about manual labor. We have been working to restore a dilapidated library. The school has received a lot of donations of books, workbooks and textbooks but because they did not have enough man-power the library has been pushed aside. Unfortunately, the school floods about once a week so many books have undergone severe water damage. Today one of the teachers of the school asked if he could speak to the team. He read us Psalm 19 and then told us that he has been praying fervently for someone to come and take care of the library. He sees hope in the books and what they can offer for the students and it broke his heart to see so many books damaged every week. The principle has already made plans to do poetry classes and a kids reading hour.
Preaching It UP!:
I love to preach. I love it, I love it, I love it, and God has opened up special doors for me. So far I have preached 3 times and I was able to pray and prophesy every time. I love to see people's faces when they realize God knows their story. I prophesied over this one guy and he started laughing right in the middle of it. I was confused because I said, "I feel like God is saying that there has been a lot of chaos in your home and it has really hurt you, especially with your father and Grandfather." I got a little nervous because I didn't think that was such a happy thing. The guy later pulled up a chair next to me and told me that his father and mother just got in a divorce and his grandfather sadly died. He didn't know how to react when God read his mail so he laughed. Please pray for me that I would hear God clearly and only say what He wants to say.
Boundaries:
Finally, I am learning that I can't save the world! Whooo Hooo! Every night Summer and I take our teams leftover food to the people right outside our hostel. We pray about who to give the meager ration to. One night we had a lot of trouble because we passed 4 or 5 people that all had sad faces and palms open begging for our scraps. We had to grit our teeth and keep walking because neither of us had a peace about giving it to any of them. It was really hard on us because we thought, "Who are we to decide who eats tonight and who doesn't." Summer was already heartbroken because a few days earlier she passed a lady and God told her to give her some of the food in her bag but she didn't. We both got so frustrated that we stopped walking and sat on the curb to pray for a quick second. "God, tell us who to give this burnt rice to." My spirit said, keep walking and turn right at the corner. God told Summer that it was a woman with children. So we walked, turned the corner and whalaaa, no woman with children. We kept walking and low and behold there she was, pregnant with four kids jungle-gyming all over her. Summer said, "Ohh my gosh, that is the woman God told me to give food to the other day. That's it Marisa! God always gives second chances." I was so happy because we just did what God told us to do. I didn't empty my bank account purchasing food for every beggar on the street. It was a good lesson!
I think that is it. There is so much more but I would have to write for days.
(None of my images really go with the blog, they are random-images from the dump-FYI )
When I was in high school, my youth group did a missions trip to Racine, WI, the city next where I lived. Racine has a huge inner-city area and my team was in charge of painting this elderly woman's home. I had the blessed job of scraping paint....from the gutters. There is only one job worse than scraping paint from a house and that is scraping it off of aluminum. We painted the whole house dookie brown and surprised our resident Urma with some new flowers in her garden. We figured the yellow Marigold's would offset some of the dookie color.
Early in the week we had to decide who was going to be in charge of what. Of course I wanted to be the leader of the whole thing but the older guy really wanted it so I settled for the only remaining position. I was in charge of leading our daily devotionals.
At this point in my life I was completely clueless about real faith. My family gave me every opportunity to know the Lord, but for some odd reason I never seemed to pay attention. Despite my inability to be able to tell you why Jesus died on the cross or who Abraham was, or that the book of Philippians was not about the country where I am currently living, I did have a poignant inclination towards spiritual things. I didn't care to know the specifics of the theology, but I did listen to my Sunday school teacher enough to know that this Jesus guy healed people and multiplied food and wine when there wasn't enough. These facts intrigued me and I ignorantly assumed that these miracles were just a part of a real Christian's life.
During our daily devotional times I prodded a few unassigned questions. The first was, "What miracles have you seen." Nobody answered anything. In fact, the leader guy laughed at me. His laugh must not have bothered me too much because I inquired further. "Okay, so maybe you have never seen a big miracle, but have you seen a little one?" Again, blank stares and bored faces. I remember leaving that mission trip with a lot of questions. I wondered why Jesus did all these great things and we were supposed to follow him, but none of these things had happened to all of these people who followed him.
Fast forward 10 years to the same clueless Risa Rony. I am clueless as to where I leave about half of my belongings but I am not clueless when it comes believing in Jesus. I am sure that there is some sort of theology to my life, but I think I may have misplaced it with my entrance tickets to my high school graduation that accidentally flew out my car's back window. Or perhaps I left it at home in Wisconsin with all of my clothes that I forgot to take with me when I went to college---in Tennessee. Theology confuses me and I have noticed that it always seems to be about who is right and wrong rather than "does this decision or belief cause life or death. Paul says, "Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial." So don't do the stuff that is going to cause you to be tempted to do bad things. Do the stuff that is going to promote good things. It seems so simple and yet it's not. Funny, huh!
I'll be real transparent here and say, I don't know what to think about anything. Should a person drink, should they not? Should you divorce him, should you not? Should we celebrate Halloween? Are we predestined to a certain life or does our own personal will change our course....blah...blah....blah.
I am sitting in the smoggy hot Philippines with Mama's who live in a trashcan, have no teeth, boils all over their skin and a skeleton of a baby drinking from their dried up breast. They don't have time for my theology that consequently will probably change after reading a different book or hearing another sermon. People here are desperate for Jesus. They want to know who to pray to. They need a God who sees them in the dump and knows their pain and can heal their hearts, provide safety and put some rice on the table. They need a gospel that works and that is not hypothetical.
A few years ago I asked a group full of Christians if they had ever seen a miracle. None of us could attest. The gospel was dead inside of us on that day, but God did not let my questions sit in the grave. Like a magnetic pull, he has drawn me to him and although I don't understand anything, I often experience what is impossible. The more time I spend with Jesus, the more I see him work in my life. There are times that I get so close to him that it is as if I can see him with my eyes.
Yesterday I sat on a Kindergarten-sized chair while I led two 14-year old girls to the Lord. One was a courageous girl and the other was shy. Immediately afterwards I asked them who they knew in that room that wasn't a Christian. They pointed to two twin girls the same age as they were. We pulled them over to us and then the courageous one led them to the Lord. She was leaking with passion as the translator informed me that she was telling the girls that Jesus was a rich king in heaven who loved us so much that he came down to earth and became poor, just like them. One of the twins was distracted by the Jurassic Park movie that was playing, but the cute one in the pink shirt was all ears. I saw salvation unfold right in front of me and it was absolutely beautiful. After we were finished praying together the shy girl turned to the translator and said,
"I know that the God that Auntie Marisa serves is real because last night she prayed for my mother. I know she does not know my mother and my mother does not know her. But everything that she spoke over her was true."
God gives his children fun gifts, and one of those gifts is prophesy (words of knowledge and wisdom). When you spend a lot of time with the Lord you learn to hear his voice. Two nights ago I held a broken woman in my arms and prayed for her out of my Spirit-the same spirit that raised Jesus from the dead and who has been around since the time the earth was created. God knows everything, and he even knows about what happened to a little lady with only a few teeth in the dump. He gave me words that never entered my mind. I just spoke from the Spirit within me. The words that He gave unlocked her broken heart and injected her with love. They also unwound a beautiful 14-year old girl's resistance towards God. She thought that God was a mean God, but now she knows He is loving.
There is so much more to the Christian life than do's and don'ts. If you are daring enough, chose to believe in what you cannot see and what you can't figure out. Jesus told us that we would do even greater works than His.
Everywhere I go, I have to have someone with me. I can't even go to the bathroom without someone knowing where I am and what number I went. That is the beauty of one room, 13 people a potentially dangerous environment. I love people greatly and I am definitely half extroverted, but about two weeks in the introvert in me is crying out for some ALONE TIME!
The thing that is draining me most is that I always worship in the mornings, but because of all the people I can't do it like I normally do. I consciously make the choice to worship because I have found that with each new sunrise my ReALiTy is noramlly BIGGER than my God.
This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't believe for things greater than what I can see. However, I often put my self into situations that if God doesn't show up, I'm totally TOAST!
All of the hundreds of stories in the Bible teach us to walk by faith and I find it really fun to believe God for the impossible. Whether it is raising $16,000, praying for the
sick, confronting demon possessed people as they lash out at me or learning to love the unlovely, I realize that if I don't have a right picture my life would be way too much to handle on my own.
The Bible is chock-full of crazy, fun adventurous stuff. Unfortunately we (myself included) often hide behind our pride and comfort so we never get a chance to experience it. So, when I worship I get unashamedly authentic. I throw my pride out the window and I talk to God like I would talk to you. If I am in love with you (you wish :)) I would speak tenderly to you. If I was excited to tell you something, or thrilled about something we are about to do I would probably jump up and down and clap my hands. If we are having fun together I would laugh. If I were standing before a judge and pleading your innocence I would probably pace back and forth and speak with passion. It's just the way I do things.
To try to get some time alone, I wake up about an hour and a half before everyone gets up. Unfortunately, there are too many stupid windows around this place that I am always afraid of waking someone up. So, with that said, I have a big problem...
I can't worship here.
Yesterday, I finally crashed. I arrived home from an extremely hard day at the dump (see my teammates blogs for details), I was exhausted, smelled like chicken that had been left outside in the heat for about 3 weeks and I was starving. Because there are so many of us, I had to sit in my filth for about an hour before I could make my way to a cold shower. While I waited I decided to see if anyone had emailed me, I secretly hoped that someone would send me something funny or inspiring but, there was no such luck. Then I did the facebook thing. Nothing had changed since the morning. In disappointment, I dazed at the little text box that says "Marisa is..." I thought to myself, "What am I?" After thinking of every miserable thing I could think of I wrote, "Marisa is wishing that she was eating a hamburger and spending the day alone--ALL ALONE! I turned off my computer, got my laundry and shower stuff and made my way to the bathroom to handwash my clothes and freeze my tail off in the shower. I grumbled to God as I scrubbed my clothes, not holding anything back as I stated my many voids to the Lord. Then I said to him, "Okay, there are my voids, now please, fill them."
I turned the handle to the shower and I turned my faith back into grumbling as did my best male game show host voice, "...and now time for a cold shower." The water poured down and to my utter amazement it was warm. Without hesitation I jumped in and let the water drench me (okay dribble over me). It was the first hot shower that I had since leaving the US. It was the best gift that I could have received. As I stood in the watery bliss I realized something crazy...I was all alone. Usually there is someone taking a shower, another taking a dump, and two or three brushing their teeth or changing all at the same time. But last night, I used a different bathroom, far away from everyone, and I locked the door behind me so no one could get in. I was overjoyed to the point of humility. In 10 minutes, I was able to shower all of my praise that had been welling up within me all while in the shower. I expressed my worship exactly how I felt, with tears of joy that mixed right in with the dripping warm water. After getting out I was met with spicy salami, cheese and wine. The owner of the hostel, an extremely friendly man had bought it for us. I felt like a princess.
The next morning we prepared to go to the dump only to find out that our transportation wasn't able to come. The school had a power outage and we would not be able to do any work. Instead, we all separated to do different things. I stayed close to the hostel with Summer, one of my amazing teammates. I got really thirsty so we made our way to McDonalds so that I could get a tea. When I walked up to the counter I went to order the tea but said "I'll have a Big Mac meal." I hadn't thought about getting food, and I was quite surprised that I made that spontaneous decision. Nevertheless, I ate the whole thing and enjoyed every processed protein that was in it. Summer and I sat and talked for awhile and suddenly it hit me as I exclaimed..."I just ate a hamburger." At that moment I remembered my Facebook request that at the time of writing was quite impossible. When we got back to our rooms I sat on the couch for two hours with NOBODY around. Summer was in the room, and the rest of the team was exploring the Philippines. Again, this was another impossibility.
I pursue God every day, but today God pursued me. He saw my desire to worship Him and He made a way for me. This journey is not about me anymore, it's about everyone in my community. Even still, the Lord sees me as an individual. Last night and today he saw my needs and like a husband filled with passion for his wife, I was adored by the Lord. Today He danced with me; His hand secure at the small of my back. I delighted in Him and He delighted in me. Today, I heard him say, "Marisa, I love you!"
Context: Marisa and Mark have been assigned the task of making dinner for our teammates on Wednesday. We went to the indoor supermarket center so that we could plan out our meal a day early. Along with us are Lindsay, Abby, Tomina and Emily who also had cooking assignments this week. Here is our conversation:
Mark: (Looking at a 12 ounce bag of cashews) "Hey look, cashews. How much are they?....320 pesos." (~$7.00 US Dollars) "Dang, that is our entire food budget for one meal for all 14 of us!"
Walking down the canned vegetable aisle.
Mark: "I'm bloated." "I need some vegetables."
Marisa: "Me too, my stomach was killing me yesterday."
Mark: "We can afford either beans or peas, which one do you want?"
Marisa: "I don't know, which one will make us poop better?
Mark: "I don't know, peas are cheaper. Man it sucks being poor."
Marisa: "Let's do peas."
Walking in the meat section:
Marisa: "Mark, you stink."
Mark: "I don't think it is me, I think it is you."
Sniffing my armpits....
Marisa: "Hmmm....yeah, it's me, but I think it is you too, or maybe it's that pig head over there."
The whole team meets up in the frozen food section.
Mark: (patting his stomach like he is pregnant.) "I think I am getting a Filipino belly from all the carbs we have been eating."
Abby: (not paying attention to what Mark said) "We all stink."
Marisa: "I think it's Mark."
Mark: "That's the second time you've accused me of stinking, I think it is all of us. We smell like the dump."
This is one of my teammates blogs. The thing that I want you to keep in mind about these teammates of mine is that they are completely normal. Okay, Bev's normal Lindsey is an actress out of LA and a little crazy...hahahaha. Anyway, they are just like you and me AND they believe the God heals. Here is what happened to them a couple of nights ago...
One of the themes this past week during launch training has been that we need to accept the Spiritual gifts we have been given and boldly walk in them. Well, I have been given the gift of healing, and so all week, I have wondered, "How do I boldly walk in that?"
A few days ago we found out that the ministry that we are serving had just received some new orphans, a 2 month old girl, and a 10 month old boy. Both were having some health issues, the girl especially. I can remember hearing that she was in the hospital and they didn't know how long she would be there for. Immediately the Lord gave me a burden for her, so I began to pray.
Last night the KIM staff needed help by having us volunteer to go to the hospital and stay with the baby, Heartlyn, in 12 hour shifts. No one wanted the 8pm to 8am shift, and so I prayed about it, and the Lord told me to sign up. The girl that was originally supposed to go with me backed out, and so I ended up going with sqaud mate Lindsay Heston. This was key as Lindsay has the annointing of the Holy Spirit all over her.
Saturday gets here and all day my heart is burdened for Heartlyn. I can't seem to shake "that feeling"...a feeling I get when I know God is going to use me to do something crazy awesome! (and I really can't explain it better than that). However, all day I don't FEEL like going to the hospital. For one, I was getting a migraine that just wouldn't go away, my neck was hurting, and I found that I just had this spirit of bitterness sitting over my life. All day I was bitter and didn't know why. After lunch, I had squad mate Summer pray over me. She prayed healing for my headache, and mentioned it was the devil trying to distract me from what God was gonna do. My headache, my neck, and my bitterness all went away in an instant. Summer then said to me, "Bev, Satan wouldn't be trying to distract you like this if God wasn't intending to do something incredible through you tonight." That feeling grew.
As the day went on the feeling grew and I was very much aware of the spiritual battle I was about to enter. There was war over that little life, and God was calling me into battle to help rescue her. Well, Lindsay and I found out on our way to the hospital that we weren't just gonna have Heartlyn, but that we would also have Chris John-the 10 month old boy I mentioned earlier was extremely sick and was on his way to the ER. The other day both Lindsay and i asked the Lord to give us a double portion of His Spirit-He heard us.
The night was spent in prayer over these little ones. We went through a cycle-they would cry at the top of their lungs for a while, we would get them calmed down, they would sleep for 30 minutes or so, and then they would wake up crying again. So the whole night was literally spent holding these precious babies in our arms (Lindsay had Heartlyn and I had Chris John) loving on them, praying healing over them, and just speaking the truth of God's word into thier lives. (all you mom's out there- I have a newfound admiration for you all...it is HARD taking care of a sick child that you can't seem to comfort!) I knew in my heart that God was gonna heal them that night, in fact at one point I heard the Lord say, "They will be healed by morning." And it didn't come the way we expected. It didn't come instantly, there was no "warming of our hands" or anything like that (not to say those things don't happen, because I believe they can and they do...). No it wasn't like that-we had to fight all night to win this battle. It took patience, tough skin, endurance, and perseverance to push through and not give up hope. We never stopped praying. Not one second. They would start screaming again, and we would go right back to step one: proclaiming truth over them, telling them how beautiful and precious they were and asking the Lord to heal them.
Morning comes and we find both babies in a very pleasant state. Around 8am the doctor comes in to check on their progress, and I promise you, she thought she was in the wrong room! She marveled at Heartlyn and said she would be able to go home tomorrow night (they originally had said she would be in at least another week). And even more so, she could not believe that Chris John was awake, alert, and happy! His sickness had completely left him. (I knew I was winning the battle when his fever broke around 3 am...I kept praying. Then his congestion started getting better. Then they were taking him off of his oxygen. Not one but two miracles happened in that little hospital room last night. We asked for a double portion. We got a double portion. Healing is real, but it is only through the power and the annointing of the Holy Spirit that it is ever possible. These two little ones were healed last night, and we give praise to Jesus. He is glorious. Lindsay and I both knew we were meant to be there last night. The gates of hell trembled in fear and trepadation as we sought the Lord in prayer. We pressed in, we fought, and we were victorious. Praise Jesus!
"And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them, and blessed them." Mark 10:16
ates are still telling me how they loved mom's spunkiness and that I look like my daddy. I keep trying to tell them that you guys get your good looks from me. And last but not least, thank you Bekah for letting me be me. Our friendship is anything but random. You inspire me, lady. Keep pushing me--you might need to start pumping some weights because I am gaining a few kilos on this rice diet and I may be getting a little harder to push. 
hat this family literally has nothing. Each child has one shirt. Some don't even have pants. The baby's bottom is diaperless and the severe rash has bubbled his skin over to look like a think crust. Michael spends all day alone in the house with the baby and his other 2-year old brother while his father and mother go out to try to find work so that they can eat. His older siblings are left to govern themselves and find work. 
The social workers called the mother into the school, sat her down and scared the heck out of her. They told her that the adoption was illegal and that she could be put in jail if she didn't get the child back. The conversation took hours before tears streamed down her eyes because she realized that her child would be used for sexual pleasure by a man 4 times his size. They said that it took her about another hour to find the courage to go to the pimp's house to retrieve her son.
At this point in my life I was completely clueless about real faith. My family gave me every opportunity to know the Lord, but for some odd reason I never seemed to pay attention. Despite my inability to be able to tell you why Jesus died on the cross or who Abraham was, or that the book of Philippians was not about the country where I am currently living, I did have a poignant inclination towards spiritual things. I didn't care to know the specifics of the theology, but I did listen to my Sunday school teacher enough to know that this Jesus guy healed people and multiplied food and wine when there wasn't enough. These facts intrigued me and I ignorantly assumed that these miracles were just a part of a real Christian's life. 
y not? Should you divorce him, should you not? Should we celebrate Halloween? Are we predestined to a certain life or does our own personal will change our course....blah...blah....blah. 
d said, 
While I waited I decided to see if anyone had emailed me, I secretly hoped that someone would send me something funny or inspiring but, there was no such luck. Then I did the facebook thing. Nothing had changed since the morning. In disappointment, I dazed at the little text box that says "Marisa is..." I thought to myself, "What am I?" After thinking of every miserable thing I could think of I wrote, "Marisa is wishing that she was eating a hamburger and spending the day alone--ALL ALONE! I turned off my computer, got my laundry and shower stuff and made my way to the bathroom to handwash my clothes and freeze my tail off in the shower. I grumbled to God as I scrubbed my clothes, not holding anything back as I stated my many voids to the Lord. Then I said to him, "Okay, there are my voids, now please, fill them." 
I turned the handle to the shower and I turned my faith back into grumbling as did my best male game show host voice, "...and now time for a cold shower." The water poured down and to my utter amazement it was warm. Without hesitation I jumped in and let the water drench me (okay dribble over me). It was the first hot shower that I had since leaving the US. 
