My Foray into the Philippines, Pt. 17b

Nueva Vizcaya: A place of rice fields and mountains

I think that Nueva Vizcaya is the closest place to paradise that I have seen since coming to the Philippines because of the pristine landscape of rice fields and mountain peaks. As we drove along, I was immersed in reading my Bible and a great memoir when all of a sudden I looked up and saw such grandeur that it almost took my breath away. I am continually amazed at the diversity one can find in this small island nation about the size of Arizona when compacted together. The best type of rice is grown in the mountain areas, in my opinion. It is much heartier than the plain white rice found elsewhere. It is red in hue and much more expensive than the white. That is why few people eat it regularly, or they will mix it with the white rice, which creates a ruddy color that is pleasing to the eye. I could eat the red rice until the day I die, but I must say that I weary a little in eating the white stuff. I miss grains such as couscous, quinoa, barley, buckwheat, and bulgur. I miss fiber! Good thing I am eating so many vegetables that counteract the lack of fiber in the rice.

Anyway, back to our mission trip to Nueva Vizcaya. I was quite humbled by this experience because it showed me how much I have to learn and that the Lord Jesus has not commanded me to run a marathon after only a few weeks of training. For our last outreach with the students we took them to the home “town” of one of the staff members whose parents have pioneered a small full-gospel church (meaning that they preach the death, burial, resurrection of Christ Jesus as the way to be saved and that believers must be filled with the Holy Spirit as they were on the day of Pentecost). I put quotations around the word town because I meant the term very loosely as the people are scattered all over the mountainside and it was difficult to tell if there was even any political incorporation. In the provinces there is a dearth of demarcation of political units; however, the locals seem to know quite well where one barangay—neighborhood or village—starts and another begins.

We arrived sometime after noon, having left Baguio around 8 am. We took our time, stopping once for a merienda or snack of sticky rice and once for an early lunch at a relative’s house. (Remember in the Philippines, it seems like everyone is related. There is always some aunt or uncle living in some place. It’s amazing how deeply connected people are in the Philippines. Kinship ties are considerably more important here than in the US and are much more profound and far-reaching.) It was pretty hot by the time we got there, so everyone settled in for a little rest or a nap. I got my own room complete with a wooden “bed” and an electric fan. I must admit that although I pride myself on being able to sleep anywhere, it was a bit of a challenge to snuggle into hardwood. A thin plastic mat separated me from the wooden planks and no matter which way I turned myself, something seemed to be poking me and causing great irritation. Praise the Lord I managed to sleep some hours although those hours were replete with a rhythmic dance of tossing and turning in a feeble attempt to find solid physical comfort.

Only half of the staff was present—our driver/jack-of-all-trades, our cook, and me—which suited me just fine because that meant I had greater authority and responsibility. I was only happy to oblige! I love to feel valuable and actually be valuable more specifically. I was in charge of the students, coordinating their activities for the outreach and making sure they were where they were supposed to be. I also tried to take some pressure from our resident handyman who always seems to have more on his plate than is necessary. I made myself available and he took the opportunity to hand off the baton a couple of times. It was a step in the right direction, I guess.Later in the afternoon, we all went out in small groups to meet the people of the area—farmers and their wives and hoards of children. I did not have the opportunity to talk to any of the farmers because they were out tending to their business, but we chatted with quite a few women, old women and old men who gathered in small groups scattered throughout the countryside. It was really fun to talk to them and to invite them to come to the outreach that night. I hoped that many would come and see what we were presenting.

I was to be disappointed in the end. Both nights we had a motley group of young and old women and men that maybe numbered around 40 people in total for both nights. The bugs were the worst I have ever seen, attracted like magnets to the lights. Somehow we got them under control by tying a plastic bag near the light, which ensnared them as they buzzed around. Sick! It seemed like a small defeat considering we had traveled so far to bring the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to share his love with the people that when so few showed up, I wanted to cry, but I remembered that it is not about how many people who show up that is important but the fact that we answered the call to go and preach the Gospel and spread the word that Jesus is alive and loves each and every person. I have faith that God is working through our meager attempt and is still bringing people to his fold of love and forgiveness, mercy and grace.

I was the preacher again as well as the evangelist. Since January’s conference, I have been really fired up about telling people about Christ, but this was my first opportunity to be a public evangelist, meaning someone whose main role is to tell people that the way to get to heaven and the way to have eternal life forever and an abundant life on earth is through Jesus Christ. Now, in my flesh or in my humanity, I think I saw myself more highly than I ought. Instead of as an incipient athlete, I saw myself as a seasoned champion. I got up there to give the message of the Gospel and fumbled through it all. Sure, I used good verses, which is the most important thing, but as for clarity of my teaching, I think I could compare it to the murky water of a backyard pond. I got caught up in the details and lost sight of the big picture. I was truly laid low in my humanity, almost to the point of sulking after I gave the message. Then, I realized it is not about me.

Paul tells us in Romans that God creates some of us for humble purposes and some for noble purposes. I had decided, apart from God, that I was created for noble purposes, meaning created to be a champion. Now, I think that I am headed for the gold, but all in due time. You cannot win the race if you haven’t trained, and I certainly have much to learn. I have been reflecting on this weekend for the past few days, and I am continually blessed by revelations of God’s faithfulness. Even today, I was reminded in my study that it was 25 years before there was a physical manifestation of God’s promise to Abraham that he would make him a great nation. Moses was in Midian for 40 years before he went back to Egypt to free the Israelites. Paul was in the desert for 14 years after his transformation in Christ before he started to fulfill the purpose for which Christ Jesus appeared to him—to preach the Gospel to all non-Jewish people. More than ever, I am reminded that I am in preparation for whatever God has planned. This mission trip to such a beautiful place was a great reminder of where I am and who I am right now and the potential for the future as long as I have the patience to train and to seek.