Peace be yours.

We've lost five kids these past few weeks. Five kids who no longer come to our after-school program. One left the country to live with his father who recently got deported. Another is being punished for not writing "long enough" letters to her mom in jail. Another three who left the shelter in which they were living without notice.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

One of my best friends is a missionary in Nigeria. Last week a suicide bomb shook her town.


For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

My friend's husband is deployed in Afghanistan. He had to use his weapon for the first time in combat last week.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

With a tally of 80 murders in February, Juarez had the lowest homicide count since 2009.

For the healing of the nations, we pray to you, oh Lord.

A new batch of sponsors emerged tonight.

As the lead singer from MercyMe was giving his pitch between sets for child sponsorship at the Rock and Worship Roadshow tonight, one of my 7th grade girls leaned over and started asking me questions.

"So you have to pay $30?"

"Yep, every month."

"But Miss, I only have $3. And it's taken me...*counts on fingers*...three months to get that much."

Now, this girl has a place to live, a loving mother who takes good care of her, a place to go to school, and a rockin' after-school program she attends (wink). I'm sure she's "better off" than most of the kids whose photos are on those packets that they hand out at concerts. But it was humbling to hear her honest response at the fact that:  one, she doesn't have the resources to sponsor a child even though I think the thought did cross her mind; and two, that she only averages $1 a month from her mom's pocket change while other children are receiving $30 from total strangers.

I was a child sponsor for a couple of years in college, and I think child sponsorship is a fascinating and cool idea. There are some really great organizations out there that do really awesome things for their sponsored communities. But I continue to wonder why we cling to the idea of helping out a child from a faraway place with whom we correspond through letters, when there are so many children in need next door who we might see everyday. I still wonder what my motivation was when I sponsored a child. We often fail to recognize the struggles of our coworkers, our neighbors, our family members when it is so much easier to feel bad for the "cute little Latino children"--who, in my current situation, are my immediate neighbors in need. I think detachment from a situation makes it easier on ourselves. If we are detached from a problem, but can still give our money to help resolve it, we will take advantage of the opportunity to give with a limited burden on ourselves by simply giving money. And that's ok.

But I don't see the kids in our community as those whom I give charity to; they ARE my community and I care deeply about them. I don't give them my money; I give them my time, my energy, and my love. I hope everyone who takes steps to donate their money also take steps to grow relationships with those right next to them in their immediate community as well.

Quick Trips

I drove to Las Cruces, New Mexico, twice today.

Our program encompasses the two cities of Las Cruces and El Paso, and we volunteers make the trip north to Las Cruces a couple times every month for different events. This weekend we had guests from the Urban Servant Corps experiencing the border region in both El Paso and Las Cruces, and I became a supplemental driver for myself and other volunteers. The trip is relatively short--about a 45 minute drive. For those of you in northwest Iowa, it's comparable to a trip to Sioux Falls from Rock Rapids. I remember throughout growing up taking trips to Sioux Falls on special occasions, either to shop, to eat out, or to attend a Girl Scout event. In high school the trips became more frequent, first with the hospitalization of my grandma. For over four months, my dad drove up to Sioux Falls almost everyday to visit her in the hospital. Then as I got involved in TEC (weekend high school retreats), I made a bunch of friends in Sioux Falls and would frequently travel to hang out with them. Then I ended up at Augustana for college and made many a trip to Rock Rapids for breaks, but also just when I needed something from home or for other events. Many people commute to Sioux Falls everyday for work or school. Overall, traveling to and from Sioux Falls was no big deal, just as traveling to and from Las Cruces has become not such a big deal for us El Paso volunteers this year.

Last weekend, I took a couple of young men who are involved in our community outreach to Las Cruces to earn some extra cash. (They walked around Walmart dressed as Chester the Cheeto's cheetah for four hours.) On our drive up they mentioned to me that this was their second and third time going to Las Cruces. These guys have lived in El Paso for years, and when I was their age (17-19), I was traveling in my own car (well, my parents' car that they let me use for myself) back and forth from Sioux Falls all the time. These teenage guys rarely have the opportunity to travel outside El Paso; nevertheless, visit other parts of El Paso, too. They don't have cars, they don't have driver's licenses...things that are sometimes assumed that a person has in this country (especially in smaller communities where there is no such thing as public transportation). In a community where papers, poverty, and accessibility are always an issue, one would think I would expect that teenagers aren't driving their own cars all over town or aren't in line at the DMV a few hours into their 16th birthday. But it wasn't until I reflected on my own teenage experience that I thought even more about how different life is for a teenager living in this area of El Paso.

7th Grade Theologians

I have had the most interesting conversations about church with my middle schoolers lately.

The first conversation made me wonder about the "Catholic" identity here on the border. Given that most Mexicans would label themselves as "Roman Catholic," I expected to hear more testaments to the Catholic faith than what I have heard. In fact, at our monthly meetings that include most of the Christian churches and organizations in the downtown El Paso region, perhaps the smallest represented denomination present is Catholic.

While at a store in the mall with some of our middle school girls after an afternoon of bowling, a rack of necklaces caught the eye of one of the 7th graders. She was holding a cross necklace that very much resembled a rosary--it was pretty much the teenage hip version of a string of rosary beads. I commented on how pretty it was (it was a very appealing shade of turquoise), after which she responded, "Yeah it is, Miss, but I could never wear it. I'm a Christian." I made some sort of confused comment like, "Ok...but it's a cross...?" Only for her to look at me like, duh, this is for Catholics...not Christians.

Even today after a meeting with a woman who directs a center where many migrant women can take classes such as English, parenting, etc., she was explaining how yes, encouraging the women to become Christian is important, and Bible studies are even required, but that the organization's focus is not religious. But she did make a comment about how "only 20% of our women are Christian...cus the majority of them are Catholic."

Since when was Catholicism not a part of Christianity? I don't understand. It is such a fascinating understanding...or misunderstanding...of the Catholic faith.

Another conversation I had with some other middle school girls was more humbling than confusing. Recently I have been involved in organizing community members to give input in a recently presented community development bond. We invited many mothers to a meeting where they could give input on what they hope to see in their community. A couple 6th graders asked me about this meeting that their moms were going to go to after program that day, and after hearing me explain the bond, they lost interest very quickly, haha. Jokingly and slightly interested to see if I could regain their interest in the bond issue, I asked the girls, "Well, what would you like to see in your community?" After a few expected answers like more pools, bigger zoos, fewer school days, etc., one of them said "We need less churches...there are too many around here." and commented how on every street there seemed to be a church building. "They should all just go to one church."

What a revolutionary idea! This comment led to a discussion among us about denominational differences and how I don't think everyone would be willing or happy to go to just one same church altogether. The girls couldn't understand why. Church is church, right?

Differences in belief, tradition, and practice, and having a variety of faith communities in one region is a beautiful thing. Especially in a place like El Paso where I have seen wonderful ways folks of different traditions can work together to bring about change. But oh how wonderful it would be to have an innocent faith that just cannot grasp the idea of the necessity of having so many churches. And oh how much we can learn from such a faith.

No Room at the Inn ... No Room in the country

A Christmas celebration featuring Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, Border Patrol, and a detained migrant.

Only in El Paso.

I had my first experience of celebrating the Posadas this past Christmas. Las Posadas is a commemoration of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus-in-the-womb's journey of finding a place to stay shortly before Jesus' birth.

I entered Cristo Rey (the church where we attended the posadas), expecting the same-old, same-old Christmas pageant-type performance that I was used to--cute little girls with crooked sparkly halos, voiceless shepherds who look so forlorn, and the typical proceeding of Mary and Joseph to the manger-side. Mind you, these were still elements included in the play (well, the shepherds showed a little bit of excitement for a change...), but before we cut right to the Star of the show, another story needed to be told.

I was delighted to see a few of my middle school kids up on the stage, taking roles in the play. But they were not dressed in robes or carrying staffs. Instead they were dressed in casual clothes, and sitting on a couch as though in their own living room. The scene began with a "typical" evening in the home of an El Pasoan family. The pre-teen and teenage kids were getting bored and bummed out that Mom and Dad are so busy all the time. They just want to go to church for Christmas!--is that too much to ask?! (Whatever teenager actually wants to go to church beats me.) As Mom tries to explain to them that they don't have the time, the scene cuts to the next scene, where Dad comes zooming in on a cart-made-car. Shortly behind him, though, is another "car" labeled "Police." He gets pulled over for speeding, but it doesn't take long for the policeman to recognize that this man does not have proper documentation, and with a quick phone call, we soon see the next "car" labeled "Border Patrol" zoom his way over.

Long story short, the man gets detained, his wife gets a phone call informing her of the news, and the family is worried that their father might not be able to spend Christmas with them, but perhaps more worried about the thought of being a separated family for who knows how long with the risk of him being deported.

But this story has a happy ending. The pastor of a friend's church helps the family find a lawyer, and the father is released from detention and allowed to spend Christmas with his family. Now, I wish I could say this story was entirely realistic. The parts including a simple traffic stop becoming a life-changing situation, a man being detained and separated from his family--those are the reality. Being let out of detention in time for Christmas, being able to spend the holidays worry-free--not so much reality.

I do not have much experience with detention centers, or even the process of deportation (my roommates handle those issues). But I have heard enough stories to know that it is NOT an easy process. I have friends, families I work with, neighbors, who live in constant fear. Parents won't send their kids to camp in fear of their child being stopped at a highway checkpoint. Parents won't sign their address on forms. Parents won't call the police to report abuse. All of these spur from the fear of "getting caught."

I don't care whether or not being "undocumented" is a crime... nobody should have to live in such fear.

I can't imagine how Mary and Joseph felt to be rejected as a guest at the inn, how difficult to make a journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem must have been for Mary, a very expectant mother, or even the shame this unwed, pregnant teenager and her caring but confused Joseph must have experienced. But I can imagine those feelings of rejection, fear, and shame filling the lives and minds of the many people struggling to find a place to call "home," a place to be accepted--those crossing borders in search of a "better life." The reality of those we call "undocumented," "illegal," "alien" could be comparable to a wandering couple, looking for a safe place to deliver Hope.

Litany of Non-Violence / Letanía de No-violencia

Provident God, aware of our own brokenness, we ask the gift of courage to identify how and where we are in need of conversion in order to live in solidarity with all Earth's people.


Deliver us from the violence of superiority and disdain. Grant us the desire, and the humility, to listen with special care to those whose experiences and attitudes are different from our own.


Deliver us from the violence of greed and privilege. Grant us the desire, and the will, to live simply so others may have their just share of Earth's resources.


Deliver us from the silence that gives consent to abuse, war and evil. Grant us the desire, and the courage, to risk speaking and acting for the common good.


Deliver us from the violence of irreverence, exploitation and control. Grant us the desire, and the strength, to act responsibly within the cycle of creation.


God of love, mercy and justice, acknowledging our complicity in those attitudes, action and words which perpetuate violence, we beg the grace of non-violent hearts. Amen.

Dios de la Providencia, consciente de mi debilidad,
pido el don de la valentía para poder identificar
cómo y dónde convertirme a fin de vivir
en solidaridad con la tierra y con toda la creación.

Líbrame de la violencia de superioridad y desprecio.
Concédeme el deseo, y la humildad, para escuchar
con esmero especial a aquellos cuyas experiencias
y actitudes son diferentes de las mías.

Líbrame de la violencia de la codicia y el privilegio.
Concédeme el deseo, y la voluntad, para vivir
simplemente para que otros tengan lo justo
de los recursos de la tierra.

Líbrame del silencio que da consentimiento
al abuso, guerra y maldad.
Concédeme el deseo, y el valor, para arriesgarme
con palabra y obra para el bien común.

Líbrame de la violencia de irreverencia,
explotación y control. 

Concédeme el deseo, y la fuerza, para actuar
con respeto hacia la creación.

Dios amoroso, misericordioso y justo,
reconociendo mi complicidad en estas actitudes,
acciones y palabras que perpetúan violencia,
ruego la gracia de un corazón no-violento. Amén.

(http://www.spsmw.org/peace-justice/resources/prayers-for-peace-and-justice/litany-of-non-violence.aspx)

You're the God of this City?

Ciudad Juarez-El Paso

"I really hope no one is trying to cross tonight."


My roommates and I look out our front window, astonished at the lightly sprinkled sidewalks of white, reminding us that snow is, indeed, possible in El Paso. It's a chilly, cloudy evening--the beginning of a cold spell of which many people are probably not prepared for. Especially those attempting to find a way to cross the international border from Murder City to Sun City.



Although the majority of my time I do not even think about the fact that I am living minutes away from a city with an average of 5-8 murders a day, it is still a reality. No matter how much I think about the extreme corruption or consider what can be done or listen to a heartbreaking story of loss or look out over the vast city; nothing fights the reality that lives are being lost in the most inhumane ways, for the most unjust reasons, and in the most extreme numbers.

"On the last day of June, bees attack seven people. On the last day of June, a fifty-four-year-old woman pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store after withdrawing eleven thousand pesos from a bank (found on the body) and is shot dead with ten rounds. On the last day of June, a man says his wife and children are missing. On the last day of June, the total number of murders for the month hits 139, and the total for the year reaches 541. Or 543, depending on which paper one reads. The numbers blur now. No one knows how many people have been snatched, nor what became of them. Just as no one knows where to file the corpses from the two houses of death. ... The city is fiestas, dust, cantinas, discos, and people savoring the weekends and dreaming of the nights when love will find them. There is song in the air. The culture of death becomes a life. The slaughtered die fast, the rest grind out time in dust, poverty, and bouts of terror. Only six months ago, everyone was horrified when forty people were slaughtered in one month. Now a hundred a month seems acceptable because in the culture of death. . .life goes on." (Murder City by Charles Bowden)

Welcome to the reality of Ciudad Juarez.


Now, I admit I haven't even visited the city across the border, and I get my information from stories (including the stories in Murder City that I just finished reading). But every story is a bit of reality that I do not understand nor know next to anything about. All I know is that these stories are stories of people--of his fear, of her abuse, of their grief. But among these sad stories, sometimes stories of hope arise.


Recently I have been obsessed with the song "God of this City" (originally recorded by Bluetree). I think this obsession comes from a realization that my perception of the song's lyrics--as well as my perception of God--will never be the same now that I have lived across from a city that seems to live in the midst of so much evil, ungodliness, despair--whatever you want to call it.


You're the God of this city,
You're the King of these people,
You're the Lord of this nation,
You are.


You're the Light of this darkness,
You're the Hope to the hopeless,
You're the Peace to the restless,
You are.


When eight lives are being lost every twenty-four hours, how can one still hold the belief that God is present in Ciudad Juarez? In a city with so much darkness, hopelessness, and restlessness, where do we find this God?


I appreciate this song because it captures the huge extent of who our God is. God is not some external being that does not give a shit about what is happening to the people of Juarez; God is revealed in the situations where light, hope, and peace overcome. "Yes, God is real, intensely real, for me, but God is not a being--external, supernatural, or theistic--to whom I seek access. God is rather a presence discovered in the very depths of my life, in the capacity to live, in the ability to love, and in the courage to be." (John Shelby Spong)  I cannot explain why God would allow so much violence and corruption to happen, or so many lives to be lost--if I could explain, well, then I'd be God. But from what I know and what I've experienced, I have at least discovered that the God I believe in is a God who brings about life in situations of death. And in Murder City, death surrounds everyone and everything. Although life overcoming death might be rare, it is not impossible.


If we want to live lives that reflect the Divine, then we will join God in the quest for Redemption. I don't know how to end the violence in Juarez, and I have had conversations about how hopeless the situation seems to be. The culture of the city is death. The police, the government, the army--all are corrupt. Hardly ever can you find someone in power who is not part of the corruption. So what will happen? Will everyone flee? I doubt it, considering the very low numbers of migrants who receive the "pass" to actually be in the states legally. Will the murders continue happening--decrease, increase? Will hope be restored?


For there is no one like our God.
There is no one like you, God.


We cannot answer these questions. But we can still live out Redemption in our own way. Even though the work that I do--hanging out with middle schoolers, attempting to give them meaning, hope, and joy--will not bring about Redemption for the world, or even for Juarez, I can still allow the Divine to work through me and bring some sort of strength, love, and joy within my own reality and the realities of the people I am in relationship with.


I still have hope for this city. Even if its problems are far too big for me to comprehend. And even if my hope is too impractical to explain.


Greater things have yet to come,
And greater things are still to be done in this city.
Greater things are yet to come, 
And greater things are still to be done here.

El Paso-Juarez

Seeking to embody the Gospel

I realized that I have not really shared much about my placement site, Ciudad Nueva Community Outreach...so please visit the website at http://ciudadnueva.org/Site/Home.html. The site has some updating needed, but I finally watched the entire video on the home page and was reminded of our mission and purpose of dealing with usually rowdy, rude, and difficult-to-handle youth. What a blessing each and every kid is. Watch the video, and learn about this great ministry that looks beyond language differences, rude comments, economic status, past histories, family reputations...and sees these kids as human beings like the rest of us.

We are kingdom builders.

"Never again will they hunger;
   never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down on them,

   nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne
   will be their shepherd;
He will lead them to springs of living water.
   And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’"
                                                                (Revelation 7:16-17)

Friday night I had the great privilege of attending an awards banquet/fundraiser for my housemate's work site, Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center. Among the awards received that night was one for an "outstanding volunteer" given to a beautiful Catholic sister who volunteers a lot of her time at Las Americas.

In the middle of her being commended for the countless hours she spends at the detention center, where she listens to unbelievable stories of those who have crossed the border and relays them back to the office, the life-giving words of her "acceptance speech" moved me.

Even though Las Americas is not religiously affiliated, and we were sitting in the social hall of a Jewish temple, she was not afraid to voice her faith. Actually, I think she could not have said one word without voicing her faith--it radiated from her. Her words struck me as truth as she proclaimed, "We are kingdom builders."

The type of kingdom building the sister was talking about has nothing to do with "saving souls" or with adding another tally mark to the list of lost souls saved in your church's registry. The type of kingdom she was talking about was a kingdom that fully incorporates every earthly and bodily aspect, as well as every emotional and spiritual aspect of the world. A kingdom that will fully transform our world, but a kingdom that can only come about with our active participation.

Jesus constantly spoke of the "kingdom of God" throughout his ministry. But I feel that too many Christians hold a narrow view of this "kingdom" as some mysterious, in-the-clouds thing. The kingdom is often defined as the future state of the earth (and all the universe) that will come with the second coming of Christ. But this definition, I fear, has led many Christians into apathetic lives that distance themselves from the here-and-now world. If the coming of Christ is the only way to bring about this kingdom, then what do we need to do besides wait for that to happen? With their focus on what's to come, many Christians preach an exclusive message that is solely focused on a future kingdom and fail to recognize the kingdom-less reality of the world around them.

In my class, we have been talking about having a "reformational worldview"--one that captures all three Creation, Fall, and Redemption. I have learned a good point while talking about this three-fold view: if we (humans) were called to be co-creators (God gave Adam privileges of continuing the Creation process by naming the animals, tilling the earth, multiplying) and we were the primary actors in the Fall, then why won't we be co-redeemers or even primary actors in the Redemption of our world? We as Christians cannot deny the idea that Christ is the only one who can fully redeem creation, but who says Christ is going to do it alone?

We are living in a world of "already, but not yet." Christ has already come once--giving us forgiveness of sins and a promise of eternal life. But the new "kingdom" he often spoke of has yet to arrive. I believe that Christ is calling us to be "kingdom builders" in our world...helping to co-redeem this lost and fallen world. Through our work, our words, our relationships, our passions, our hands, our peacemaking...we are kingdom builders, living by the hope of a Christ who has already promised eternity. Now we get the responsibility to make this world our own by joining Him in these efforts of building this kingdom where "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." Even though we cannot do it all, we can still do something to make God's kingdom come.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven..."

Reality Check on this Dia de los Muertos

October 26:

"At least 2 people were killed on Monday in Juarez. Yesterday, the murder toll was at least 6--four men were killed, dismembered and decapitated and their body parts scattered around the city... In addition, a municipal policeman was killed and a man running a quesadilla shot were also victims of homicide. Diario reported the death toll as of Sunday at 113, so it is now at least 121, not counting the deaths reported today.

There have been several shocking incidents. A 5 yr old boy was injured in an attack that killed his father while the man was sleeping in his house... A pregnant woman is killed, the fetus taken from her body and then she is burned alive... A teenage boy confesses to murdering his sick parents to relieve them of their suffering..."

October 24:

"Here's my best effort at a summary of the people murdered since Friday  

October 14:One murder on October 14  

October 15 and 16: no murders, but 3 bodies found in the Valle de Juarez 

October 17: 4 murders  

October 18: Another day without a homicide  

October 19: 5 homicides  

October 20: 4 people assassinated  

October 21: 5 people murdered  

October 22: 3 executed  

October 23: 9 people killed, one decapitated...

According to my tally, the total for the month of October is now about 109, an average of about 5 people per day this month. For the year, 1,709--an average of 5.7 people per day, and since January 2008, the total number of people killed in Juarez is at least 9,708..."

Even living on the border, it is easy to forget just how many lives are being lost just across the border. Stories of shoot-outs and kidnappings still shock me, but the stats are often just numbers. Daily I receive emails from a research librarian at NMSU on her mass email list called the "frontera list"--compiled of translations and summaries of the day's headlines of the border violence. Recently they have included summaries such as those listed above.


It's not until I hear a personal story of suffering that it hits me again. I couldn't imagine working in some of the places my roommates work in--especially the one who often tells us of the stories her clients share--witnessing extreme decapitation of loved ones, fearing the risk of being killed if they don't receive asylum in the states, experiencing being trafficked...things that I could never imagine having the strength to listen to. It takes a level of de-sensitization, she explains to us, to be able to go to work everyday...or else she would just get swept up in the intense emotions and not be able to serve the clients who bring these stories.


I've heard stories of our after-school kids who have witnessed shoot-outs, been in the presence of loved ones dying, had relatives commit suicide, had parents murdered... The stories horrify me. But like my roommate, if I were to dwell on those stories, we would make no progress. But in no way do we forget the stories or the loved ones...


At this time of the year, the Mexican population is celebrating el Dia de los Muertos--the Day of the Dead. A day during which we take time to remember and honor those who have passed. On the border, it's obviously more than just lighting candles, preparing flowers, and eating special bread...it's also a reminder of the horrific circumstances surrounding how loved ones have died. How painful it must be for someone who has lost a friend, a brother, a parent, or a child to violence that is attributed to political corruption, situations of poverty, and many more avoidable consequences due to the actions taken in response to drug trade issues.


"The combination of a failed immigration system in the U.S. and unaccountable violence in Mexico has shown itself to be a deadly one for migrants. There has been a surge in the last two years of immigrants in the U.S. being deported to Mexico -- often with terrible consequences. Not only are they separated from their families, but many are killed in Mexico due to the corruption and the Mexican government's failure to provide institutional protection from violence." (Border Network for Human Rights Dia de los Muertos event page)


An excellent story that connects a personal story of a rather wealthy Mexican to the larger issues of the border: http://www.texasobserver.org/cover-story/no-safe-place


"Confronted with knowledge of dozens of apparently random disasters each day, what can a human heart do but slam its doors? No mortal can grieve that much. We didn't evolve to cope with tragedy on a global scale. Our defense is to pretend there's no thread of event that connects us, and that those lives are somehow not precious and real like our own. It's a practical strategy, to some ends, but the loss of empathy is also the loss of humanity, and that's no small tradeoff." (High Tide in Tucson by Barbara Kingsolver)