POST by JED: California Dreamin (Part 12)

The first few days in Davis were absolutely mind blowing, however there was one day in particular, that left me absolutely, unbelievably, totally in love with our new Northern Californian friends.

Two Churches, the Davis Christian Assembly and Vision Espiritual, joined forces to bless us with gifts and in addition, on this specific day, took us to perform our street theatre production for a middle school FULL of troubled teens.

Capital on the Edge performing for a Middle School  in Davis, California

The Brien kids and Nica-Youth gave it 1,000% and our American student audience really dove in, singing along and clapping their hands after the various scenes of the production.

Capital on the Edge performing for a Middle School  in Davis, California

We were having a wow of a time until the very end, when I gave the blessed students an option to get up and dance, which I’d never done before (nor since) and several of them actually did. Of course it wasn’t too long before a young lass hurled herself, bot-bot-over-noggin, nearly causing permanent damage to her back – CRACK!

Capital on the Edge performing for a Middle School  in Davis, California

But alas, she got up sporting a broad grin across her face and proceeded to do the Macarena utilising our Heavenly ‘Te Doy Gloria’ as accompaniment (I give you glory).

We were able to share a little about the plight of young Nicaraguans too, and the students of this Davis middle school listened attentively. After the production, scores of kids enveloped the boys and upon putting out my hand for a shake with not one, but two teachers, was grabbed and hugged tight.

The public school teachers seemed really grateful for their kids to have been exposed to genuine stories of hope prevailing, and stacks of the students said they’d show up to Davis Christian Assembly on Friday night, if the school could organise transport – which was just bazaar to me, because at that point, I didn’t even realise we were overtly advertising Church.

The evening of the same day was brilliant. Our Mexi-American friends took us out for good ol’ fashioned all-you-can-eat. The Nica-boys put the theory to the test and several were barely able to get out of their seats at the end of the night on account of gluttonously full stomachs.

The young lad serving our table seemed to consider us a curious bunch, as every time he entered the room we were either arm wrestling, having a formal devotion, designing and dressing our faces with fairy floss (cotton candy?), or laughing uncontrollably on account of all things Latino… It was a great time!

However, the most important thing to me was the love and dedication that exuded from these Latino pastors towards our valuable, eclectic, formidable troupe. Their love was unconditional and significant.

Now I know that it is generally common to hug and kiss as Latinos, but this isn’t the case in most of Nicaragua. From what I can understand, the poorer classes have been trained by missionaries in thinking that these kinds of emotional displays of affection, just aren’t Christian – inappropriate, don’t you know.

And so our boys’ faces gave away their shock and delight, when they were embraced by the teddy bear pastor, and dealt out full-on kisses, which were planted either right on their cheeks or neck. The fatherly expression of LOVE, it was great!  

Flip over the page and yet another exciting day in Davis meant a trip to the 8th most prestigious public university in the US, the University of California, Davis campus. What an honour! The fellas were well received with stax of students rallying around, and it was a significant time on account of these, future American leaders in their various fields, being ministered to by some of the world’s poorest inhabitants.

In the afternoon, we choofed off to the Farmer’s Market (ooh-laa-laa), where the boys went nuts with their dance moves, causing quite the stir. Then, back to Church for a mega-dinner, with Church people pouring in from every which-way… I am not joking when I tell you that halfway through dinner a masseur walked in with his table and gave ALL of our lads a work-over. Bah! None for me, but next time…

The masseur was the husband of one of the teachers from the middle school we had performed at. She, one of the teachers who’d hugged me, is a Columbian Catholic lady and had been so impressed with our performance she’d begged her husband to come and help our boys out. He didn’t need much persuading, and came with a great attitude to bless our boys, and the fella wasn’t even a regular Church goer. (He also knew some form of martial arts, and all of us laughed uncontrollably as he “took each one out”)

On our final “school day" in Davis we managed to visit a regular middle school, and had in mind to present a variety of dances for students enrolled in a Spanish class. Snore…

Capital on the Edge performing for a Middle School  in Davis, California

Now there’s something you just have to know about Pastor Jonathan of Davis Christian Assembly. He knows what he wants and he usually gets it. He didn’t want to perform for a single Spanish class, he wanted to perform for the entire school. And well, if they wouldn’t call a general assembly for us, then he’d do it himself…

Capital on the Edge performing for a Middle School  in Davis, California

And so, we spent some time in moments of “Oh no, this will never work. Why the ceilings are too low, the floor is too high, and the walls, well? They should be a dozen yards away from the classroom! No, let’s take this thing outside…” Eventually, they got the picture - the pastor just WOULDN'T budge… 

We went out and brought all of the other classes with us. Honestly, I think it was Pastor Jonno himself who started the rumour that Enrique Iglesias was about to perform… Eight classes were in attendance, with close to two hundred students and staff watching on.

As the story goes, I was standing at the back of the audience, watching as Liz directed and spoke, and then began to enjoy the Nica-youths performing when... an imposing figure, who I could only imagine to be a cranky school administrator, in a Pauline Hanson combo-styled pastel lemon and fuschia pant suit outfit, came storming towards us, papers in hand.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her hideousness. The fury! She was NOT happy. She promptly arrived right next to me, not once looking in my direction. Her hairy mouth twitched. I could've sworn she was about to bust up our parade and throw us all into prison. 

She made a grunting noise and then OH the hilarity – whatever had happened was side splittingly funny to her (I hadn't been watching the performance and had no idea), and she laughed until she cried, eventually looking over in my direction, nodding wildly and pointing towards our troupe – I must have looked a tad backward when my face went from concentrated stare (almost cross-eyed too) to Jim Carrey, plasticine face. Never laughed so hard in my life - and at what? To this day I have no idea…

We packed up and started moving away towards the parking lot. Elizabeth approached, “one of the boys is saying mean things to Franny,” she said. I needed not a second prompting. I approached the lad in question and asked him if he’d said the heartless comments.

He had, there was no denying it. I asked him to apologise to Fran. He refused. “Why won’t you apologise?” I whined. “Because I wasn’t talking to her, I was talking to someone else. She accidently overheard.”

Yes, yes… The logic… I instructed him, my voice fourth grade stern: “You need to apologise to Franny. It is irrelevant whether or not you meant for her to hear. She heard. It was mean. Say sorry…” He spat back “You’re crazy!” And of course, with this comment, I verily became… “You apologise immediately or there’ll be trouble!” He walked away, “NO!”

I then did a little Gerry Lewis action, running hither and dither, organising car swaps until I had the perfect concoction – The problematic punk would ride in my car, with the most helpful, obedient souls accompanying…

“You apologise, or we’ll send you straight home!” I yelled. “No! Send me home!” he squealed. Yes, I’m always so clever when I have to think under pressure. “Right, well when we return to the Church, you march straight into the pastor’s office and take yourself a seat. I will organise a flight for you, and we’ll have you on a plane by midnight!” I was confident, but I had in-fact forgotten just how stubborn this one kid could be.

He sat there with a grin from ear-to-ear. Another of our lads walked in, “Yeah, I’ll travel with home with him” he said. Wait just a minute, this problem was starting to feel like a runaway train. “You want to go home?” I asked. “Yeah, I miss my mum.” GAAAAH! I picked up the receiver and called the airline “blah, blah, blah, rah, rah, rah, you may as well buy another ticket.” The impudence! The audacity! Modern airlines and their super strict ticketing rules! There would be no return tickets, not for my naughty boy, nor his willing companion.

I hung up the phone, brain not communicating with mouth, which was already talking saying God-only-knows-what. It was then that my Nicaraguan associate became as cranky as all-get-out. We took it to the parking lot. I explained that he’d have to stay with us until the end of tour, but that he would no longer dance with the troupe.

We strode towards the youth room, our lodging/home, my pal’s words getting less and less polite, and more and more loud. We entered the room and the rest of our troupe stopped whatever it was that they were doing and fixated on our darling little Jerry Springer do-do of a moment.

He hurled himself towards me with all fury, bent on revenge. Others of our group bounded over and jump on top of him, like loco Mexican Luchadores. “Run” they all screamed. I did. I ran like a 3 year old girl, and cannot honestly remember if I did or did not let out a little “mummy!” as I propelled.

I waited in the Pastor’s office. “He wants to kill you, Jed,” said one of the boys as he hurried into my (the pastor’s) panic room (office). His face looked grim. I started, “Yeah, well… Perhaps I shou” I was interrupted. “NO! JED!  He’s got a knife and he really wants to kill you!”

And that’s the little doozie that changed everything. I pushed past my amigo and ran to the kitchen. I grabbed the knife drawer and ran back to the office. I threw the rectangular death-ridden device under the pastor’s desk (imagine the reverend’s delight when he sat down to type up his morning to-do-list, nearly skewering his foot with a butcher’s knife! This nearly happened… After our ordeal ended, I forgot to replace the drawer).

My compadre stopped me. He’s also got a baseball bat. I went to go ready the building a second time, thinking of everything that might potentially be a killing device, but realised all too quickly that the kid could take me with his bare hands in half a moment. It was to be no use. If he wanted me dead, I was TOAST!

Before long we had the pastor involved. He’s a very wise chap, our Davis Christian Assembly bloke. He sewed seeds of wisdom and put questions in our Nica-lad’s mind. However, the kid was unmoved, most likely because there wasn’t a longstanding relationship between the two – Nicaraguans don’t trust people they’ve just met, even if these people have bestowed gifts, time, resources, etc. Our kid now had the glitzy lights of Managua before him – only problem, the funds just weren’t available to send him sailing home…

I waited for the longest time, but then realised I was highly dehydrated on account of the sweat that was swilling around in my little booties. I decided to climb out of the broom closet and strolled back to the kitchen for a glass of freshly squeezed red cordial, and then noticed the most beautiful, precious, priceless thing through a tiny little window opening onto the courtyard. Liz, a valiant soldier, was speaking decisively to the dude.

Now I have to tell you – I am the hype, the fun, the vision… Liz is the details, the wisdom, the brains… She was talking to our micro-murderous-man, and not letting him get a word in edgeways (welcome to the party!).

Forgiveness flowed. We were restored! The hatchet was LITERALLY buried and the hugs, kisses and love once again shone like the hot, HOT sun...

Thank GOD for the too-hard-basket! I tell you, there are so many things in my life that I’d like to change for an easier set of circumstances, but not my will, but YOURS be DONE!

Yordy, my champion son, went on to do marvelous things whilst on tour with us in California. He wouldn’t perform publicly in the mission, but then went on to bedazzle 2 youth groups, whom I am sure are now changed forever. Yes, he would also eventually vandalise private property, threaten to punch Liz in the face and try to slug me in the guts, but he would also assist in the blessing of people running into the arms of an everlasting God. The rewards? Priceless…

The U-Turn event in Sacramento, where literally HUNDREDS of Youths Gave Their Hearts to the Lord

Today I’ve wrestled with writing this post.

A new friend of mine is scared to death for us and for the safety of our children. “Change your tactic” was the tone of his e-mail. Nicely written, and from a heart of love, you’d have to agree with this fellow if looking through the lens of Earthly Wisdom.

A pastor recently advised that we should not be so sensational with the words we speak (and I’m assuming “write”). “Americans are desensitized.” Focus on other facets of your ministry and your message, don’t share in such detail the pain and the past. Well, yes… Or, no… It’s not a huge deal to me either way, but here’s why we blog and share our testimonies:

We share our youths’ stories with you, so that our young people will have victory over their pasts… The Devil LOVES hidden sins and secrecy…

We share our youths’ stories with you, so that we have a record of how God has moved in their lives and can visually see where he has brought these kids from, and to…

We share our youths’ stories with you, to help them keep their focus on a very bright future with God, walking out of darkness and into light…

We share our youths’ stories with you, so that you can have hope – if God can do miracles in these kids’ lives, he can do miracles in your lives…

We share our youths’ stories with you, so that you can see the potential of God’s power. These young people are changing their world! YOU CAN CHANGE YOURS!!!

What’s the cost?

Christ, at God’s request, went to the Cross with his mother crying at his feet. Abraham, at God’s request, was prepared to sacrifice his son, Isaac, on an altar. Esther risked her life for God’s children. Job was handed over to the Devil to do with as he liked! It seems that anyone in the Bible who was significant in the Kingdom, had to endure and held onto a faith for the things unseen.

In my life, I find myself constantly doubting many things on any given day. But the one thing I feel firmly committed to is the discipleship of people God has placed in my way. They’re my children. They’re our Nicaraguan youths.

We’re all called to discipleship! We need to both be discipled and make disciples. But sadly, we just don’t do it (corporately, the church as a whole).

Honestly, as I reflect now on our time in Nicaragua, El Salvador, California, and after having spoken with SO MANY Church leaders across the USA, I can tell you that YES, I am disillusioned. I am disillusioned by our apathy, programs, greatness, selfishness, excuses, lack of compassion and vision… But most of all, I am disillusioned by our lack of Jesus...

I honestly feel that people just don’t understand how, but when we take a step back and look at it, the solution really is quite simple.

God is a loving God. He desires relationship. We need to surrender to His will and love him back. With the very same love he gives to us, we need to give to others. We don’t stop giving. We keep on loving, and loving, and loving and loving.

Tonight, Yordy said to me, “Jed, what do you see for my life when I am older?” I responded, “A man who wants nothing else but to love God and serve him always.” He smiled, kicked the dirt and said, “yeah, I want to be just like you.” We both laughed hard (and actually I’m not sure why… Mental note to self – I need to follow up on that one!).

The truth is, discipleship is just loving people that God puts on your path, all the time, without strings, completely and compassionately, with all that you are… Wasn’t/isn’t that Christ’s message to us?

If you would like to learn more about our ministry, please watch our latest update,CLICK HERE

If you would like to learn more about who our Nica-Youths are, or to support them, please visit their page, SUPPORT Nica-Talent

To learn more about our street theatre production, "CREATED", please visit our page,NICAVANGELISTS: "CREATED", North American Tour (2013)

If you would like to see a video of some of our Nica-Youths practicing, please CLICK HERE

We are not up to budget, and travelling with 14 people is very expensive. We need an investment from Christian people for our next evangelism tour to the Midwest. To support us or make a once off donation, please visit our page, Contemplating SUPPORTING something significant?

To learn more about Davis Christian Assembly, please CLICK HERE