Through A Glass Darkly

He called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Those who led the way rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stopped and ordered the man to be brought to him. When he came near, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“Lord, I want to see,” he replied.  Luke 18: 38-40

I too want to see the world around me with clarity and truth.  As it pushes and shoves its way past me, honking its horn, leaving me in a wake of confused dust, I long to see with  His heart.  His priority.  And His understanding of what will stand.  

One curious question.  Twenty-seven years ago, the villages of Las Mercedes and of Canada del Horno were both identical rows of cement block cubes lined up in straight rows across bleak rubble.  Now one is unrecognizable.  Trees of all sorts tower over brightly colored plastered homes with brightly colored barred doorways opening up into richly cared for and cluttered homes crammed with refrigerators, stoves, televisions, carved furniture.  Shops of every sort shout their wares and neatly uniformed students crowd into the bright yellow school for two shifts of classes and some sort of fried something dripping with bright red sweet stuff.  Life has not been easy, I was assured over and over.  But God is good.    

Equally boisterous buildings line the curving road to Las Mercedes.  But then there is a break in the buoyant merengue blasting out of every doorway.  To the left is the bright yellow school and a newly fashioned flush toilet outhouse where the row of solar latrines once marched.  But across the now paved road to the village sits the familiar rows of cement block cubes, bleak and perhaps, after twenty-seven years of waiting, hopeless.    One or two homes sport a smear of paint, but otherwise, everything else looks unchanged: a few slumped bodies fill the dark doorways, a few scrawny chickens scurry in  search of a stray bug, and a few tumbles of plastic bags and broken toys and ripped boxes and old shoes are strewn about.   The aluminum foundry has long since closed down, although each and every household is stilling frying their yucca and plantains in those familiar thick silver pots.  Has the self-imposed label of refugio de los damnificados has been emblazoned on each heart and soul in the place?

Who knows what one would find, tracing the tangled history of decisions, events and personalities through the long years.  But one cannot but wonder of the impact Mencho from Colombia who determined to pray over each and every home from four to seven in the morning each and every day. And every morning we wandered together through the penciled map of the community, naming each name in the presence of the LORD.  Is this why He commanded us to pray?  He who understands and knows and truly sees?  For we struggle not against human opponents, but against rulers, authorities, cosmic powers in the darkness around us, and evil spiritual forces in the heavenly realm. 

Lord, have mercy on me.