POST by JED: Good Heavens, Hot as Hell

Uno, dos, TREEEEEEEES! I jerked Jeddah's arm, hoping he'd tumble in with me. Moments before I'd led him to Jesus and then joked that he needed to be baptized, but alas the joke had been on me. Our heads came together with a smack and I instantly knew he'd be aching. I continued to fall. CRACK! My back connected with the edge of the pool and searing pain ripped through my entire torso.

I landed in the water and my first thought was "it's not cold?" My second thought was "I want to die!" My third thought? "I can make it out if I keep my head above water. If I don't, because I'm a kidder, they'll think I'm joking and the more I struggle, the more they'll laugh. I cannot die with people who love me laughing their heads off and pointing at me." I know this pattern of thoughts was random, but they are what they are. The pain was unbearable. I wanted to cry...

Liz had invited a home schooling group over for the afternoon. Now whilst this fusion of white, home school, missionary types and our youth, the future of our neighbourhood, the young and the restless, might have been a great idea - the idea might have needed a tad more tweaking.

The ladies chatted on the verandah, as the kids swam in the pool. The dogs did their best to attract as many flies and bugs as possible The salsa and corn chips made their debut. The children of our barrio continued to drift on in and before too long the home schoolers bid their farewell, and headed back to their gated communities.

4pm approached and it was time for me to collect the band members from Barrio Loco, a neighbourhood not too far from ours. Barrio Loco is a dangerous place with youths hell-bent on stealing, raping and harming. At times we, the Brady Bunch (I'm sure they see us in this light - naive, "well-to-do", overly friendly...), have ridden through and witnessed with our own eyes gang activity, crime and physical punishment being dealt out. All the while we rise-to-the-trot and watch on as they watch on, mouths left gaping (from our mounts to their pouts).   

The band members assemble and begin to practice. They sound incredible. Darkness envelopes. Our house is a hive of activity. I zip to the shops and buy our staff enchiladas for dinner. I arrive home at 5 to 7 and the multitudes have already assembled. 

Tonight there is potential for trouble. We have started to receive an enormous amount of youths with "issues" (drugs, alcohol and weapons) from our 3 local barrios. Local community members, we have been told by our Church members, have advised that a petition is being passed around to close our Community Centre.

We have already been through the trials of rumours (child trafficking, drug trafficking, child pornography and prostitution). The current rumour is that we are using our Friday night "Grupo de Jovenes" (youth group) to either prostitute the youths or supply prostitutes to them. I'm not sure which and don't really care. Both scenarios are equally as horrid, ridiculous and untrue.

The crowd is rough and ready, but I see no new faces. The mass look excited at my arrival and are seemingly anticipating great things from tonight's fun activities. I rip through the crowd, my ears feeding on the squeals of laughter, drive through the gate and salute our armed guard, Nestor.

I summons the people standing by to help with dinner. They run to my aide and in seconds empty stomachs are being filled. I get on my army gear and walk to the gate.

My amigo Shamyr is with me. Shamyr is the bodybuilding champion of Nicaragua and my best friend. Shamyr has a gun holstered.

Ramses, our Tae Kwondo instructor, and director of Tae Kwondo at Nicaragua's Institute of Sport, has also arrived and is ready for action. He's a good Christian friend and probably the closest fit to a Nica-ministry partner.

Jamil, our dance teacher and gardener, who was also in the army, is excited. He almost wills them to make a bad move, so that he can tackle them to the ground and restrain until the police arrive.

Eduardo, our University Youth Pastor, who has been in prison for conspiracy to murder, is head of this operation and is not in the mood for any hanky panky.

We walk through the gate together, this unlikely crew of Christian men and the crowd steps back. I look closely and am surprised at what I see. Toddlers, children, teens, adults and even older people have come tonight. It seems that family members have also decided to attend tonight's meeting, but why?

Eduardo raises a stern voice to the awaiting ears. He explains that no drugs, alcohol or weapons will be allowed to enter the Community Centre, and that people who display signs of intoxication, use bad language, or act inappropriately will  not be tolerated and will be expelled from the grounds without investigation.

I take a moment to exemplify the fearless brute force we have at our disposal and throw a teen up against the wall, their huffing and puffing being heard by all onlookers. I frisk, I fuss, I make a hullabaloo. The crowd erupts in laughter, with lots of energetic chitter chatter circulating. They never know if I'm joking or not, and truth be told, often times I don't either.

The slow process of body and bag checks ensues, and the people file in one-by-one.

The youth get on with ping pong, basketball, soccer and swimming. Everyone is having a wonderful time. It's hard to believe that local gossipers would want to shut this operation down. It's even harder to imagine how the rudest stories could emanate out of this place, our very own version of Nica-DisneyWorld.

At 8pm we gather the folks. The band raises the roof with their Nica-praise and the spirit of the congregated group is in harmony with our heart for the local barrios. You can tell the attitudes are positive and upbeat.

Francesca performs a skit with Valeria, our children's pastor, and some of the youths. Francesca is the "prodigal daughter" in this Biblical stage show, which is incredibly relevant to the eyes that watch.

The skit ends and the mood is still encouraging. There have been NO dramas tonight, except for the one delivered with a Gospel Message.

I introduce Shamyr and the eyes widen. He talks about the importance of a healthy lifestyle for a healthy body, and a healthy relationship with God for a healthy spiritual life. The boys are dumbfounded when Shamyr shows his upper-body. (I think partly cause they can see his gun) His mountainous muscle mass adds credibility to the message he's just delivered. I look at the lads and can see contemplation. They're searching their souls, they're weighing the costs.

Liz and I then lead the people in a time of worship. Nearly every mouth is moving. The physical is leading way to the spiritual. "Jesus conquered the grave..." are the last words we sing. The lights come on, the projector goes off, there is hustle and bustle as the "service" is transitioned into a ping pong parlour once more.

I ignore the activity and search the seating for souls seeking more. I notice some pretty serious faces. The young fellas aren't moving. They're trapped inside their thoughts.

I race over and sit between some of the blokes. Unfortunately, due to my usually crazy antics, it breaks the mood and the jokes and laughter are with us once more. Sure, I want to be fun, but right now fun could deliver souls to hell for eternity. Nobody wants that.

I press through, "Tienes Jesus en tu corazon?" (Do you have Jesus in your heart?) Laughter once more and the moment is gone. "Damn" I literally think to myself... "Damn, damn, damn, damn damn!!!" I muster a smile and begin to participate in the small talk. I'll have to go to plan-b. I don't have a plan-b.  

Whilst tonight was a MAJOR breakthrough for us, I feel empty and sad. We haven't traversed the globe to make friends. Oh sure, friends are a great bi-product, but I really want to be a part of leading people to Christ and on a daily basis. I want to be a part of building His Kingdom.

I stroll around the camp, monitoring behaviours and looking for drugs. I chat to this person and that. I start to bide my time, wondering when this victorious night will end. I look over and see Jeddah sitting by himself. He's a troubled young chap, but like all of them, he has so much potential and no opportunities.

 

I casually wander over and sit next to him, on the cold, partially painted, green cement seat. "What's wrong?" I ask in Spanish. His eyes well with tears. "Jed, I have so many problems." My heart goes out to Jeddah. "What kind of problems?" I ask as gently, but as seriously as I can.

I do not want this life changing moment to dissolve into a two second joke, where I stand on my head, gargling dish washing liquid and singing the American Anthem, whilst also juggling live kittens on my bare feet.

"I smoke marijuana and use cocaine." This, I wasn't expecting. I'm not shocked. Seemingly nothing shocks me now. However, I am surprised.

"Do you have other problems?", I press, hoping his answer will be "no". "Yes, too many very bad problems", he stammers. "Well, Jesus can take all of those problems from you. Jesus came and died for ALL of your sins. He loves you, Jeddah. He's your father."

Jeddah starts to cry. His tight Latino lips quiver and his nose begins to run. I hug Jeddah and try to look into his pained eyes. He refuses to look at me, his entire person truly bogged down with a powerful guilt.

I ask about Jeddah's family, already knowing a fair bit. Jeddah is the nephew of Yader, our Centre's director, and this is not the first time Jeddah has had a spiritual encounter. When our pastor from Australia visited, he gave a strong word, which deeply impacted the people. Jeddah ended up manifesting, shaking violently on the ground.

Jeddah doesn't have a father, he only has a mother. Jeddah's entire family are very special to me. I don't know why, but there 's some sort of extraordinary quality which I can't put into words.

I grab Jeddah's face, like a father administering medicine to a resistant 10-year-old boy. I look at him dead in the eyes - his eyes lock with mine for the briefest of moments and then his eyes begin to roll.

"Jesus loves you" I state as a fact, barely able to get the words out, for the seriousness of this moment is affecting me and a very large lump had formed in my throat. "Nooo" he groans painfully as he begins to release the sourness of his heart. I grab Jeddah and hug him tight. He continues to cry for several minutes.

I call Francesca over and ask her to help me. Together we say the sinner's prayer. This moment seems to last an eternity. I say it first in English, Francesca repeats what I have said - but in Spanish, and then Jeddah repeats the Spanish version, before the cycle recommences with me.

Jeddah is free. He is still a sinner, but he is saved. We walk, arm in arm, over to where the remnants of the night are sitting, and proudly proclaim together Jeddah's admission of guilt and his need and acceptance of a saviour.

I joke with them all about needing to baptize Jeddah immediately. Before I know it, I'm being whisked away and thrown into the pool. I hit my back on the side of the pool and now I'm layed up with days of rest ahead. So clever aren't I? This cannot happen, especially not now!!!

Hmmm... I am learning that there is learning in just about every moment. So what have I learnt here? Well, I've learnt that whilst God may lead the way, be wise in what you do. He provides us with opportunities to have an impact on those around us, but our actions need to be in accordance with His will and confined to the level of our God-given human ability (Different to stepping out boldly in faith - our actions have to be within the direction of God's voice).

Hell is not just a bad holiday destination. It's hot, it'd deadly, and it lasts forever (global warming personified). How serious are you about your relationship with God? Are you waiting until later to sort out plans for your eternal home? If you know Jesus already, are you sharing Him with urgency? Are you frightened to scare off your friends with your loopy religion? Don't want to spoil dinner conversation? Heaven or Hell, it's for eternity...