Am I the only one who gets seriously
grumpy on his way to church? I had arrived in Potosí at about 5:00
am and crashed to sleep in my bed at the hostel. It was Sunday
morning and I really wanted to experience a Bolivian church service,
so I set my alarm for 8:30. That should allow enough time to get a
quick shower, gobble a hunk of bread with butter and jelly, gulp some
coffee, and find a church, right?
Searching for a church like I was in a
casino, making random bets on this street then that, I was still
wandering around the city at 9:45 – and I was frustrated. Why did I
think this was going to be easy? Potosí has many churches, but each
one I had discovered so far was Catholic and closed. Grrr! Standing
once more before a pair of massive doors bolted shut, I complained to
God, “Lord, do You not see that I am trying to go to church today?
I woke up without enough sleep because I want to honor Your day and
find some fellowship, but I can't do that if I can't find a church!
May I have some help, please?”
Opening my eyes, I turned around to see
a man carrying a Bible under his arm. “Hey!” I shouted. Startled,
he stopped and looked at me, eyes wide. In stammering Spanish I
mentioned his Bible, asked him if he was going to church, and if he
would be willing to take me along. He agreed, and hustling to keep up
with him, we marched away from the church, around a corner, and down
a big set of stairs.
Soon I heard music – singing –
church! The man gestured that his church was farther along, up the
hill, in the distance. Since we were at 14,500' above sea level,
however, and I was out of breath following him down stairs, I
begged off as politely as possible and thanked him for taking me as
far as he had. He smiled and hurried away. I stepped into the church
and slipped in the back completely unnoticed.
Oops! Telling a story about church, I
shouldn't lie! Head and shoulders above the tallest person, white,
hairy, and maybe even smelly, of course I attracted a bit of
attention. After one more song, it was time for the visitors to come
up to the front and introduce themselves. It wasn't a big church,
maybe fifty people, but there were ten or twelve visitors. I didn't
catch everything that everyone said, but when my turn came, I
introduced myself the way I always do in Spanish speaking countries.
They all laughed, which I love, and that's why I always introduce
myself the same way. Here's what I think I'm saying:
“My name in English is Jake, but in
Spanish I like to be called Hah-kay, Hah-kay Mah-tay.” (The letter
“j” in Spanish is pronounced like the “h” in help, the “a”
like the “a” in father, and “ke” together like “kay.”)
The funny thing about Hah-kay Mah-tay (actually spelled jaque mate)
in Spanish is that it means “check mate,” as in a game of chess.
I'm not sure if everyone laughs because they think that someone
calling himself “Check Mate” is clever or ludicrous, but a laugh
is a laugh for me. In my introduction, I also told them that I
sponsored a little boy here in the city through Compassion and had
come to visit him on his birthday.
From what I understood of the sermon,
the preacher was spot-on about the importance of godly masculinity
and what the Bible says it looks like to be a good husband and
father. Teacher, leader, not harsh or abusive, but loving,
consistent, strong, self-sacrificing for his wife, working hard to
provide for his family, and most importantly, faithful in his own
relationship with God through prayer, Bible study and church
attendance. Wow, cool. I would attend this church if I lived in
Potosí!
As the service ended, I was hungry.
Before I could leave, I think I was hugged by every person in the
church. I figured my odds of getting invited to lunch were pretty
good, so when the last person hugged me and still no one had invited
me to lunch, I was a bit put out. Really? Dang! I'm hungry! I looked
around the church one last time, a questioning, searching look on my
face, and reluctantly took big, slow steps to the exit.
So began another roulette type
exploration of a different part of the city in search of food and
adventure. I wandered toward Cerro Rico, but then back tracked as the
city petered out. I spied a tower in the distance on top of a lump of
a hill and figured I might at least see something neat from the top.
In about twenty minutes I was at the
base of the tower, but the doors were locked shut and it even looked
abandoned. The hill itself did provide good panoramic views of the
city, so I took a bunch of pictures and then sat down to think about
what to do next. I ate a granola bar.
While I sat, a few cars arrived at the
small parking lot at the base of the tower, and I recognized the
people getting out of their cars. I overheard a little girl say,
“Jaque Mate.” I turned and smiled – I had just seen them at the
church. A few more people from church arrived, and dropping a big fat
hint, I asked them if they knew a place in the city where I could
find lunch. Here's the answer I understood them to give, “Oh, it's
very hard to find lunch in the city on Sunday afternoon.” Sweet.
Awesome. Great. Just the answer I was hoping I'd get. Doggone it,
anyway.
So I prayed again, “Lord, it seems
like there might be a pretty cool connection with this group, but I'm
getting hungry. If You would like to bring something about between
us, please do it. If not, I'm going to go look for some food. Thank
You, Amen.”
I stood up and walked across the
driveway to take one last picture of a flower before resuming my
shot-in-the-dark search for chow.
It was then that Christian approached
me and asked about my camera. “Is that an 18 megapixel camera?”
“No, it's an 18X zoom camera, only 10 megapixels.” He had one
that was 12 megapixels. We chatted about our cameras for a bit, and
then someone called our names – hey, come on, the doors have
opened, let's go get lunch!
The tower was a restaurant with a view!
The restaurant revolved like the Space Needle. Over the course of an
hour, we saw the complete panorama available from the tower –
farout! The food was good and the company was great. It turns out
there were so many visitors at the church because it was a family
reunion. A few people had been living in Spain and had come back to
Potosí to visit relatives. Just about the whole church was there for
lunch, and they put me at the foot of the table. As if talking with
them and getting to know them wasn't enough – they bought my lunch!
We left the tower and drove to another place for desert – again
they treated. Maybe when I go back, I can return the favor?
Wow, thank You Lord for blessing me so
abundantly! This Bolivia is turning out to be a pretty great place.
The people are so friendly! Two meals purchased for me already? What
more might this trip have in store?
Before leaving Potosí, I was blessed
again, very deeply humbled by another demonstration of remarkable
generosity. In the coming days I was also to learn what is meant by
“blockades.”
Stay tuned!
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