My face had curly marks on it
when I looked in the mirror. I had walked in at 3am, hugged and kissed Xinia,
our house mother, and fallen flat on my face with doona atop. The rug material
was wavy and had left its impression upon my cheeks and forehead. “GRAYSH,” I
thought to myself. We had not slept the night before
our travels, and our flight itinerary had left us completely drained of energy.
It was now almost midday and I was apparently the last one up.
 |
| Greeyvin Teaching Sezni HOW to Play... |
I strolled out of the bathroom
and scanned the buzzing Camacho household. There were people everywhere! Rene
and Yordy sat at the kitchen counter by mother, Xinia, who was busy cooking and
cleaning, chatting all-the-while. Xinia isn’t too loca, but knows how to have a
laugh. The boys were eating bacon and egg breakfasts, which Xinia had lovingly prepared
for them.
Yader sat in the corner on my
laptop, sipping roasted fresh, toasty coffee, the scent driving me wild, making
my nose twitch. “Delicious” I thought to myself. “Real coffee and all the way
from Costa Rica! I want some, I WANT SOME!!!”
As I sat down to some fresh fruit
and a cup of steaming hot Jarrah, I stared out the window and noticed Beycker
and Stivey doing their tricks. They bounded across the lush green grass of this
semi-rural, arte décor, Costa-Californian dwelling, the lads’ feet and hands
flying this-way-and-that as they jumped, kicked, flipped and floated along.
Liz, Anna and the kids were
hustling, sorting clothes, brushing teeth, getting busy with life. Ericson,
Jonny & Eliezer looked to be enjoying the outdoor entertaining area, as
they lay sprawled across the garden furniture, strategically flicking their
chess pieces over the board.
 |
| Playing Games |
Pastor Greeyvin came out of his
office with purpose. “Pastor Greeyvin” I called out. “We are so, so, so, so,
so, SOOOOOOOOOOO grateful to you for having us stay in your home! 15 people you’ve
never met, and from a country not your own. Thank you.” Pastor Greeyvin looked
at me with compassion “It’s okay Jed. I hadn’t read your e-mail the day I
received it, but when I opened it I just knew you were meant to come here.”
Pastor Greeyvin and his wife
Xinia, immigrated from Costa Rica to the USA 20 years ago. They live on an acre,
just outside of beautiful Vista (Spanish, for “view”), which is just outside of
San Diego, in beautiful southern California.
 |
| Pastor Greeyvin & Xinia |
This handsome couple look to be
in their late thirties and have 2 of the cutest little white puppies you’ve
ever seen! They each work at the Vista Assembly, a marvelous Church. Greeyvin is
the English Worship & Spanish Pastor, and Xinia is an administrator (she
also dabbles in graphic design).
I pushed Pastor Greeyvin. “Would
you please consider giving our boys a Bible devotion?” Pastor Greeyvin grinned
broadly and said “it’s okay, it’s okay, I will do it for you!” We chatted a bit
more about what would work and then I gathered the boys. Pastor Greeyvin would
deliver several short sermons to our lads over the following days, but the
topic of our first devotion was simply God ordained – The LOVE of our Heavenly
Father…
The Love of God, I believe, is a
difficult topic of discussion for Nicaraguans. It fits well into a three hour
sermon, which Nicaraguans HAVE TO attend (several times per week, though for
some Nicaraguans, nightly attendance is required). They MUST be at Church on
time, wearing dress slacks and a shirt for men, and a long skirt and blouse for
women. There are strict rules for Nicaraguan Christians, which they must obey
if they are going to be Christians, and this forces many of the weaker, more
human ones (100%) into a double lifestyle (Christian on Sunday and then not for
the rest of the week, OR Christian when people are looking). The boys chewed on
Pastor Greeyvin’s reflection, contributing when welcomed and asking questions
as the opportunities arose.
Pastor Greeyvin and Xinia were a
phenomenal blessing to our troupe. I cannot believe how the cards have been
stacked. You know, I worked my guts out getting this tour together and I truly
believe that God had this pearl up his sleeve, just to encourage us at the
beginning of our tour.
In addition to the spiritual
support of these boys, the Camacho family treated our boys like Princes. It’s a
funny thing to me, because back in Nicaragua these fellas are nothing.
They’re nothing to their families.
Imagine being sold as a prostitute by your father?
They’re nothing to the Churches.
We’ve been told by our Nicaraguan church members, time-and-time-again, that it
is not possible for these boys to change.
They’re nothing to missionaries.
They’re too busy with big, big, big, BIG impersonal programs and networking
amongst themselves – Can you imagine a missionary youth group advertising their
youth group as being only available to English speakers?
They’re nothing to the government.
The Nicaraguan Sandanista Government uses youth as a tool to keep themselves in
power. They’re clever marketers, and brilliant capitalists. Can you imagine a
socialist government that makes a small fortune out of their socialised
programs? Ironically, it’s a dual system of socialism for private enterprise (who
pay for a large portion of socialised programs) and capitalism for the public
sector (the rich politicians just keep on getting richer).
In addition to Nicaragua’s
political farce, the investment in education is minimal when compared with healthcare.
Our boys’ school does not provide ANYTHING for these chaps. In terms of
supplies, they don’t receive books, pens or paper, nothing. Their teachers only
receive the teacher’s manual.
BUT, as the Camacho family
showed, our Nicaraguan young men are something to God – they’re PRINCES…
Handsome, strong, intelligent human beings, made equal to the rest of humanity,
under God. And that is how Xinia treated them. She delivered a tasty cooked
meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was yummo, and to this day our boys’
keep asking for a return to the Camacho household (I wanna go too!!!).
On Wednesday evening we headed to
Vista Assembly for our first public performance in the US, of our Gospel
centered, evangelistic, street theatre production, “Created.” We were ushered
into the building, and took charge of a room close to the main auditorium. Our
youths were nervous. We did a bit of a practice sing and dance, and then we
were on.
 |
| Performing CREATED at the Vista Assembly, in San Diego... |
The youth of Vista Assembly were
about as encouraging as they could be. They clapped and cheered and roared with
laughter. They were completely positive and encouraged our troupe on with their
enthusiasm. The Nicavangelists did a phenomenal job, and at the end were given
a standing ovation. I was overcome with emotion at this point… (I had kept
saying to the boys, “It has to be better than a church play – it is, but only
because of their skill, the acting still needs a LOT of work…)
 |
| Stivey Performing CREATED |
Gayelee, their nutbage
forty-something youth leader, whom I ADORE, had said that I could do an alter
call and open up a time of ministry. I couldn’t do it. I felt dwarfed by the
Godly spirituality of the Church and sensed that these youth were “good with
God” but lacked opportunities to really sow into others.
I had our youth stand at the
front of the Church, Brien kids included, and asked everyone to wait on the
Lord for a word, vision, or something for these lads. At home in Nicaragua, we
pray with the boys, but haven’t really spent much time, with them, just waiting
for the Holy Spirit to speak.
I asked the youth, once they had received
a word from God or had anything to offer, to come forward and share with the
Nicaz, or just begin to pray over them.
Then it started… The youth came
out. They shared visions, gave words of encouragement, hugged our Nica-lads,
prayed for them, cried with them, etc. It was one of the most beautiful moments
of my life. I was unable to sing, which is what we had planned, I just watched.
It was like the fulfillment of all God had promised – he would make a way… I
knew HE would…
After the service I chatted with
Gayelee. A beautiful sister. She’s too much fun, the side-splitting stuff. I
was a tad miffed ‘cause she had to scoot off to Fresno the following day and officiate
a wedding. This meant less time chewing the fat and so we got stuck straight
in.
 |
| My Beautiful Sister, Gayelee |
She talked to me about the Father
Heart of God. At times I lapped it up. It was out of HIS love, that Jesus came
to this World. It was out of HIS love that a way was made. It was our of HIS
love, that we were left with the power of the Holy Spirit. It’s all about the
love of the Father, from beginning to the very end…
Thursday was interesting to say
the least. We had the honour and the privilege of meeting Quinell Bash, a
dancer from the American Dance Crew (a television show that I’ve never heard
of, but of which upon mention, my boys grew feverishly excited). He’s an
African American dude, I’m guessing in his mid-twenties, and about the coolest
person I’ve ever met (aren’t ALL African Americans just the coolest?).
Anyway, the Bashful one had that
smooth African American voice, and I especially like it when he laughed – it
made me laugh. I think that also made him laugh, but not for the same reason I
was laughing. Which in turn made me laugh.
Bashful sat and chatted with our
troupe, who ate it up like nothing I’d seen. They’d play it down later, so I
made many a mental snapshot, so that I could argue that they behaved like silly
little school girls, which they did (except for maybe the curtsy).
 |
| Francesca, MR. Bash, Ericson & Jonny in San Diego |
After talking for a while we got
up and danced. And by “we,” I mean them. And by “dance,” I mean “tricking” and “Bboy.”
Of course there were plenty of faces and comments from our crew, which all
screamed “I usually do better, but…”, however I knew they were giving 1,000%.
After Mr. Bashful scooted out the door, the boys chatted like a bunch of
excited jungle monkeys. Beycker made a sly comment about the exaggerated
movements of Mr. Bash. I pounced – I was furious!!!
The problem with our troupe is,
none of them, bar Jonny, can act. That’s okay, because we’re working on it.
However, when they criticise others, who are good, I lose it. On the video, Mr.
Bash dances brilliantly. When you sit in an audience, further away from the
performer, exaggeration is needed in order to look sharp.
Back in Nicaragua we went over
this no less than a million times. I’d eat a bowl of cereal in front of them.
“Yukky, milk everywhere!” But when I walked 50 meters away and ate the cereal,
they couldn’t really see the details of what was going on – my eating certainly
wasn’t a sharp vision of “eating.” The same goes, big nose… I released
Beycker’s throat from my hands and asked if he saw my point of view. “Claro” he
said. Crystal clear…
Later we went out and had chicken
for dinner. What a groovy time we had. The boys ate all they could and then
some. They went to the “refill station” no less than a thousand times. The
funniest moment to-date, whilst on tour, was when Yader went up to the drinks
machine at this restaurant and asked it for a refill, extending his arm to hand
out his cup. It’s a machine. It doesn’t do anything unless you press a button.
He didn’t know that and kept re-asking “coke.” “Coca-Cola.” “Coke.” Yes, well…
We nearly died we laughed so hard.
A young couple from Church were
driving by and saw our van (VISTA ASSEMBLY). They chucked a U-eey and joined us
for a wing of chicken. It was truly amazing to talk with them about their
vision for the future. They’re Latinos and have a heart for Muslims. They will
be serving in Eurasia from August of this year. It’s encouraging to me because
I believe God is calling Latinos to stand up and lead the Christian Church – we
Latino’s are taking on the WORLD! It’s not the first time I’ve had a Latino
tell me they’re moving to a Muslim nation, and it’s very necessary, because
Muslims are heading to Latin America (we have better diplomatic relations with
Iran than we do the USA)…
We arrived home stuffed, like
turkeys. But that wasn’t good enough for darling Xinia. She cooked up a storm
and again we ate. Then, hot chocolate. We rolled around the floor in pain due
to early onset of obesity! Rene started pilfering through their cupboards. Liz
asked what the dickens he was doing. Xinia explained that he wanted a fizzy
drink. “Absolutely NOT!” Liz commanded. Rene spat something back at Liz in
Spanish.
I told Rene to step outside. He
began to swear at me in Spanish. I told him to walk to the main road and back
again in order to cool off. He refused. I said “have a good night!” and walked
back inside. Half an hour later I walked out again and Rene was now shivering.
He was angry and wouldn’t look at me. I hugged him and he glanced at me with
cold eyes (literally) and then dramatically looked away, glaring at the ground.
I asked him if he would walk to
the road and back again, he flatly refused. He asked me “Why are you treating
me like a dog?” I responded, “Rene, I love you. I am not treating you like a
dog, I am responding to your anger in a way that will teach you how to respond
to small disappointments in life… I asked Sezni to walk home, a few months ago,
when he’d hit Rafael in anger. He needed some time to cool off, and so he
walked two kilometers home. It was a hard decision for me to make, but when
Sezni got home I was able to talk with him and he was able to resolve the
incident by apologising to Rafael for causing him so much pain… Will you walk
to the road and back again?” Rene didn’t respond. I returned inside, the image
of Rene’s furiously chattering teeth, forever emblazoned upon my memory.
A further half an hour rolled by
and I looked out for Rene. Nowhere to be seen. I walked out to the street and
nothing. I strolled to the road I’d ask him to walk to, and there he stood –
staring at the ground, waiting to be picked up.
I ran over to him, feeling like strangely
like the Father from the Prodigal Son, though in this instance, I
was unsure as to whether there was repentance (wasn’t he meant to be returning
to me?). There wasn’t. Rene was still angry and feeling hard-done by. He
explained to me that he felt angry because he is poor, and doesn’t have very
much, and that is why I was treating him so badly.
I had to laugh out-loud. My
family have sacrificed so much for this boy, in fact for this tour, which is a
complete step-of-faith for our entire family, as we have borrowed $20k.
However, the truth is – Rene’s father sold him as a prostitute when he was just
a small child. He’s lived on the streets and has since been adopted by his
uncle and aunty, who are in their seventies and were never able to have
children of their own. Rene disrespects them – he is 15 years old and has never
had authority in his life. When he’s needed money, he’s prostituted himself.
I wrapped my arms around Rene and
hugged him tight.
I told Rene that we were created
equally under God, but that Rene’s only job at the moment is to learn about God
and respect humanity. His job is to respect himself and everyone he comes into
contact with. He wasn’t doing that in this new family’s home.
Xinia had cooked Rene bacon and
eggs for breakfast, where he’d also drunk a cup of coffee and two cups of
orange juice. Rene had eaten lunch and yummy snacks for afternoon tea. We’d
eaten at the chicken restaurant for dinner, and had then been served a late
cooked supper and steaming hot chocolate. But, that hadn’t been enough for
Rene. He had been selfish and had not shown respect to Xinia.
My job with Rene is to love him
unconditionally and a part of that involves holding him accountable for his
actions.
Rene’s response to my words was
“You’re not my father!” This part made my heart leap – because no, I’m not his
father, but his legal parents, who aren’t his real parents, have both written a
permission slip making me the legal guardian of Rene (for immigration in the
US) and a Nicaraguan lawyer has also drawn up a document that stated all legal
authority over Rene, whilst outside of the US, belonged to me. I explained this
to Rene, and he knew he was done. The blanket slung around my neck proved too
good to resist, he grabbed it from me.
 |
| Rene, Sewing for the Team |
We walked home arm-in-arm.
Liz and I chatted the following
morning about what to do with Rene. Our options basically boiled down to:
A.) Send him on the next flight
home; or
B.) Pull him out of the team,
make him the group’s water-boy, take away his phone and ban him from facebook
for a week.
We sat the ENTIRE team down the
next morning and explained the entire sequence of the preceding evening’s
events. Rene looked on nervously. We offered him the choice of going home or
become the group’s water-boy. He eagerly became Mr. Agua!
We told him there was one more
condition, he needed to apologise to everyone. I think this is just about the
MOST difficult thing to ask a Nicaraguan to do. The Nicaraguan people are
incredibly proud, and I think I can count on one hand the amount of time I’ve
heard it slip past a Nicaraguan’s lips “I’m sorry.” But, he did it! And I’m
proud to say a week on, that Rene is a NEW MAN! He’s humble, servant hearted, and
INCREDIBLY respectful. And so, we continue on with our full team, LOVING San
Diego and all that God is doing in us, and through us…
We are now in California, to
share Jesus with our World. If you would like to learn more about who our
Nica-Youths are, then please visit their PAGES, “Created” tour, and
"Nicavangelists." If you would like to see a video of some of our
Nica-Youths, please CLICK HERE. We have no money, and need an investment from
Christian people for our next evangelism tour to the Midwest. To support a
Nica-Youth or make a donation, please CLICK HERE. Thanks for being a part of
what God is doing in the hearts and lives of Nicaraguans. To learn more about
Vista Assembly of God, please CLICK HERE.
