1st Day of Church

Today was pretty intense.

(There is a man from my congregation in Columbia, MO that has family working as missionaries in Costa Rica, but about 30 minutes in a taxi from where I am at in Sabanilla. From his family I was given the info for a close church in San Jose)

It started with me waking up at 5am for while, making an intense piddle and then falling asleep until almost 8a. Then, then, I took a bud into San Jose to find a church. I had rough directions, but this country does not believe in address. Literally, they use monuments. Newer tourist services have tried to start naming major streets, but they typically just give the approximate distance in meters away North/South and East/West from the closest monument.

Well, I hopped off the bus and asked uniformed persons for help finding the place. I found the monument but not the iglesia. I eventually asked an older middle aged man for help. He led me to where he “thought” it was, but there was no church. He then offered me to accompany him to his church. I asked him what kind of church it was and then he basically just said that they accepted everyone, he might have said Anglican, but my Spanish is not so good. Then he started talking about how his church and God do not prohibit anything. He mentioned drinking. I said there is nothing wrong with having a beer or some wine, but that being a drunk was not good. That was when it got real. He apparently is under the persuasion that God does not prohibit anything and that people are just saved by grace and then can do whatever they want. Aside from my Calvinist alarm going off, he became very animated and started explaining how if someone kills that laws of the land lock them up, but God won’t castigate them. He repeated things a couple of times, but seemed to be getting flustered. I just pretended not to understand anything else and said I was for my lack of understanding and sorry for bothering him so I could leave an uncomfortable situation.

To his credit, he probably was trying to help, he said not to worry about anything, there was a language and a culture barrier, and he would not accept anything for his trouble. That being said, it was still uncomfortable being lost in new city.

I had noticed some pay phones next to the monument in my directions. So I returned there and called the preacher. Praise God, someone answered. It was hard to hear because the city was noisy, but I just told him where I was and asked him to come meet me. Within a matter of seconds I saw someone make eye contact and wave.

The church was very close, but just looked like a door in a row of doors. It was housed in a small room with plastic chairs. The people were so nice and welcoming. They had many questions and kept asking if I knew Bill Ribbs the Texan missionary. It was kind of funny. Afterwards, I went with the preacher’s family and some friends to visit some members of the church. The driving here is not as crazy as in Italy, but definitely more interesting than in the states (maybe not the major cities).

The first place that we went was a Nicaraguan tenement village (Nicaraguans are poor and come to Costa Rica to do work that the Costa Ricans, they call themselves Ticos, do not want to do). It was the poorest place I had ever seen not in a book or on TV. The houses were just slabs of concrete with thin metal walls and roofs. The inside was fairly bare except for what looked like what was furnished from a dump. The father had a, I’m guessing, tumor or some sort of growth that was visible through his shirt, and it was cold. But, everyone was so happy and kind. They were fascinated that I had ridden in a plane, they kept asking about it. I quickly endeared myself to the youngest son by asking him if he was a little horse (caballito) and then proceeding to do my best imitation.

It was so shocking to see that. I wanted to go home and sell everything I owned. Not so much to be helpful, but to not feel so bad about having it when others did not. I know that is very emotional and primitively illogical, but the thought did enter my mind. It was a melancholy laugh I gave when I saw the youngest son Yordi, face full of grin, sledding down a dirty street into a black puddle on an old soda bottle.

Talk about opposites, the next place that we went was a gated community nicer that anything I have seen not on TV on in a book. I guess that is where the riches hole up.

During the car ride, the people I was with bought some salted mango (mango is delicious, but a bunch salt on my mango is acerbic). They gave me one of the two bags they bought. I gave them some granola bars I had brought for the day. There were 4 people and 4 bars, but 3 different types of bars. They all shared and were grateful.

Finally, we went to an American style burger joint and had burgers and fries. They put mayonnaise on their fries like the Europeans, but also ketchup so it was not all bad ;) Also, their burger meat was like something off a dollar menu, but they put tasty cucumbers on their burgers which I thought was a good idea. We parted on wonderful terms and one of the friends gave me a ride home. I look forward to not being lost, but still getting to worship next Sunday. They said that I could even bus in from Guacimo when I am at EARTH at 8 to make the 10a services. We shall see. Thanks God.

Some randoms: The Chinese are building a humongous national stadium for the Costa Ricans. Plus, the preacher's daughter looked like she could have been a model, but she was in high school or just immature. The preacher was from Colombia, the mother was from El Salvador, and the others were from Costa Rica. The preacher had a daughter and two sons.

The first picture is tonight's dinner; I forgot to grab the camera, so it is a little "disturbed" shall we say.