Email: Sarah Lunceford

Dear fellow Believers,

We have now been in Xela almost three weeks, and it already feels like everything before coming here was another life. In short, this place is full of contrast.

And now the long version:

Today I picked up my laundry at the "lavandaria" where I found the owner studying his Bible. He was turned to Filipenses (Phillipians).  Walking home over the hill that leads to my block I am made breathless and still by the beauty of the mist on the mountain, by the beauty of the shades of gray and white that lay thick under the crisp blue sky. I praised God to be walking under the unmuted glory of his creation and among the smiles and encouragement of his beloved people in Guatemala.

My attention was drawn to a man standing in the middle of the street, mumbling and shaking his finger at some imagined foe. After passing him, I exchange "buenas tardes" with a toothless old woman wearing the bright criss-cross of colors that make up Mayan "traje" (traditional clothing) and carrying an unwieldy bundle of sticks. Seconds later I pass a crisply dressed businessman carrying a briefcase and talking on his cell phone.

Later as I sat to do my language-school homework on the terrace of my home here in Xela, I saw the city as a cluster of rusted roofs and laundry lines encircled by that glorious ring of mountains and truly heavenly clouds. Looking up to the mountains and sky and looking down to the streets, I see two different worlds.

This morning we and our Spanish teachers watched as the babes of Guatemala, some dressed as quetzals or white orchids (the national bird and flower) and others blowing into toy trumpets, marched through town to celebrate Guatemala's independence from Spain. In class this afternoon we learned how Guatemala's independence from Spain did nothing to change the racist class structure of colonial Guatemala, and how those same racist attitudes are still strong today. The bright shiny parade flies in the face of a darker social situation.

Last weekend we traveled to Cantel and Zunil, two small towns near Xela, to observe the voting process. The general atmosphere was as if a huge party had just ended, but no one had gone home yet. Hundreds of people quietly greeted each other as they waited in long lines to cast their vote. Hot dog, taco, and lollipop vendors provided sustenance to the crowds. It was encouraging to see so many people at the polls, but I couldn't help wonder about the effectiveness of the voting process here. We've been told that political parties are basically the private property of whoever is running for president, and that many people are psychologically or financially manipulated to vote a certain way. This week after the elections the news has been full of stories of violence and riots in towns where the mayoral elections are suspected of fraud. The activity on voting day seems empty in the face of resulting political realities.

It is hard to reconcile the poverty and trash in the streets with the sunlight on the mountainside, the loud and playful Independence Day celebrations with the quiet and steady reality of poverty and oppression, the long lines at the polls with political corruption. Yes, I look out and I see two different worlds. Each time I see or read or hear about an injustice, past or present, it is a struggle not to weep.

What is my role in all of this?  Perhaps, for now, it is to mourn and pray. Earlier this week I went to the central plaza of Xela to write some postcards to friends and family. On the stone bench next to me sat Guadelupe, the sleep in his eyes and half-shaven beard telling the story of his homelessness.  He told me about his life and then about his political philosophy: "If you don't cry, you don't change."

Thinking back on his words, I remember that Jesus wept, and that "surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows" (Is. 53:4). And, best of all, Jesus comes again: "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Rev. 21:3-4).

Jesus came to be with man, to be among those who cry and to cry himself out of a heart of compassion. If Jesus comes to wipe away all tears, I want to be with the ones who are crying. And don't I myself need healing just as much as the man I saw in the street or the politician who cheats his people? Yes. I pray that as I walk through these streets I would recognize myself in every needy person that I see, and that I would recognize Jesus in every person who cries. I pray that we would all cry out together for Jesus.

Indeed, all the contrasts that I see, these two worlds that I am living in, are reconciled in Christ. He longs to bring all to the table to feast on his love. One day we will all be united together as brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers and children under the banner of love which is Christ himself.

"Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price" (Is. 55:1 ESV).

"A todos los sedientos: Venid a las aguas, y a los que no tienen dinero, venid, comprad y comed. Venid, comprad sin dinero y sin precio, vino y leche" (Is. 55:1 RV).

Sara Lunceford