I suppose I could use this post to talk about my return to the US of A, but I shan't. I have made this kind of transition many times, and I don't really know what to say about it.
What I will talk about is my job. This week, I have been part of a small crew working on refinishing a wooden floor. I couldn't help but see some parallels to real life. This project has been an interesting one from the start. The biggest reason for this is I have never done anything like this before.
When one thinks of refinishing a floor, the first thing that probably comes to mind is shiny lacquer and a brilliant, shimmering coat of finish. However, first, we had to take off the old finish. We literally had to sand the old veneer off. For a moment, I thought that, if I were the floor, that would hurt pretty bad. You thought you were gonna get a new skin, but instead, your current skin was torn off. How many times does that happen in your life? And you pray, "Lord, I thought you were gonna make me better." And He just smiles and says, "You can't see what's next."
We ran into some unexpected problems in this project too. Things that made for a lot of work that we had not expected. These problems lead to changes in our schedule. We had originally planned for three to four days to finish, and tomorrow we start the fifth day of the assignment. Not to mention going back to work in the evening to stay within this altered timeframe. I'm permanently reminded that His times are not ours.
I guess in all this, I'm really reminded of God's sovereignty. His control and presence have been evident in the workplace. We have had days that made us want to pull our hair out, but on Wednesday, I honestly didn't want to stop working because things were clicking so well.
In conclusion, before perfection and the final product, the object in question must be broken down in order to be rebuilt, and that object has absolutely no say in the length of time it will take. We could compare me to the floor, to tell you the the truth, the floor has yet to complain.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
McDonaldomics
This post is a little late, but I've been busy these last several days.
So, we're in the mall on Sunday night, after church, wondering what to eat. As usual, I was trying to spend very little money, so I started to try to figure out what's cheap. I was informed by Flor, that the Big Mac combo at McDonald's is cheap. She proceeded to tell me why:
The McDonald's Big Mac is one of the products that is used to measure global inflation. They compare the prices of Big Macs in every country in which they are available, which is almost every country. As I have mentioned before, inflation is ridiculously high in Argentina. So, the Argentine government takes care of the situation in the same way that it usually does, by providing a subsidy. So, the Big Mac is partially subsidized by the government to hide the Argentine inflation rate from the rest of the world. The Big Mac combo costs 21.90 pesos argentinos while other combos list between 35-45 pesos. Of course, the Big Mac isn't listed on the big signs, it's on a little one off to the side, or not even listed at all.
This would be the appointed time where I rip on the government for all the stuff it does, but I shan't. I just thought the whole situation was kind of fascinating. The problem, the solution, and how it related to me.
Just some interesting observations from a hungry, broke, international, college student.
PS I know that some of you may be disappointed, but I'm pretty sure that was the first Big Mac I'd ever eaten. What can I say? I'm just a Quarter Pounder kind of guy.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Unexpected Happenings on a Sunday Evening.
I had a a pretty busy weekend, and honestly, I was glad. I had been doing a lot of sittting around, and it was good to have get a break from doing nothing. It involved a lot of running around, social gatherings, work, church, and not getting a whole lot of sleep. I remember thinking to myself, "Ironically, I like it better this way."
But Sunday during church, I experienced an interesting turn of events. Half way through the preaching, I began to get a terrible headache that eventually became a migraine. Allow me to set the scene: the church building has about 50 or so people, and it it steaming hot, even though it´s eight o´clock at night. I realized that this was the kind of headache that leads to vomitting (unfourtunately, I have had migraines like this in the past). But, the good thing about being sick at church, is that everyone cares for you. However, sometimes it´s hard to feel the love when it feels like someone is driving a steak into the right side of your head with a sledge-hammer. Eventually, we went home.
On the way home, the aforementioned up-chucking came to pass (about 9 pm). I proceeded to go to bed and try to sleep. The events that followed where like clock work. I vommitted every hour on the hour until midnight. There was much talk and discussion and phone calls, regarding a trip to the hospital, but none of the talk materialized. I just went to bed. When I awoke, I felt much better.
The only problem was that it was 4 am! So, I just laid in bed and felt happy to be alive. I thanked the Lord that I was feeling so well. Then, I was hit with a stunning realization: Every day last week, I hadn't been able to get to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning, and it made me angry. I would lay in bed and just be mad, because I wasn't asleep. But this time, I was thankful. I was amazed at how just a little perspective change can make a curse into a blessing. Around 5 o'clock, I drifted off into a thankful, peaceful sleep. Things I needed to learn on a Sunday evening.
But Sunday during church, I experienced an interesting turn of events. Half way through the preaching, I began to get a terrible headache that eventually became a migraine. Allow me to set the scene: the church building has about 50 or so people, and it it steaming hot, even though it´s eight o´clock at night. I realized that this was the kind of headache that leads to vomitting (unfourtunately, I have had migraines like this in the past). But, the good thing about being sick at church, is that everyone cares for you. However, sometimes it´s hard to feel the love when it feels like someone is driving a steak into the right side of your head with a sledge-hammer. Eventually, we went home.
On the way home, the aforementioned up-chucking came to pass (about 9 pm). I proceeded to go to bed and try to sleep. The events that followed where like clock work. I vommitted every hour on the hour until midnight. There was much talk and discussion and phone calls, regarding a trip to the hospital, but none of the talk materialized. I just went to bed. When I awoke, I felt much better.
The only problem was that it was 4 am! So, I just laid in bed and felt happy to be alive. I thanked the Lord that I was feeling so well. Then, I was hit with a stunning realization: Every day last week, I hadn't been able to get to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning, and it made me angry. I would lay in bed and just be mad, because I wasn't asleep. But this time, I was thankful. I was amazed at how just a little perspective change can make a curse into a blessing. Around 5 o'clock, I drifted off into a thankful, peaceful sleep. Things I needed to learn on a Sunday evening.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Things that Matter
Yesterday, being Thanksgiving, I decided to make a list of things for which I was thankful, just to stay in the spirit of giving thanks. I mean, I had already watched two football games, I figured I should carry out some other traditions. It was a fairly generic list (family, friends, God's provision, etc) But, eventually, I did put some serious thought into it. I realize that in someways, it was a type of exit interview for this trip. (I can hardly believe that I only have two short weeks left.)
"So that was cool or whatever," said my soul as I picked up the Bible. I'm currently reading through Romans, and last night I was reading chapters 3 and 4. Chapter 3 verse 23 is pretty familiar, but 3:24 hit me like a ton of bricks, "...being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus;" I said, "Wow, really, Will? You just wrote a list of 16 things you were truly thankful for and not once did you mention your salvation." To be honest, I was ashamed of myself.
These last several days I have been so obsessed with pondering life, love, legends, and lands far away, that I had let the greatest gift slide into my peripheral vision. I needed to be put in my place spiritually, taken down from my high horse where I think that I am the only person in the world. In the grand scheme of things, how important is what I do next year? In light of eternity, am I doing things that matter?
Ladies and gentlemen, we are only about 35 days from the year 2012. I have no idea what that year may hold, and in many ways, it does not really matter, my eternity is secure.
Ladies and gentlemen, we are only about 35 days from the year 2012. I have no idea what that year may hold, and in many ways, it does not really matter, my eternity is secure.
Is yours?
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Life on the Edge
My friends Ronae and Chrs wanted to visit the slums of Buenos Aires. They were kind of determined to go but had run into some dificulties because Argentines don´t do that kind of thing. Of course, I said I would help them. We knew it was dangerous because everyone said it was. But, we were not detered. Taking my advice, Ronae asked a friend from church what if perhaps he could help us. Within a few days, we had a date to go the most dangerous slum (villa in Spanish) of Buenos Aires.
The guy we asked has a been a pastor/missionary for many years, and I figured that he would have some contact or something on the inside. When we met up with him, we found out that he had never darkened the inside of the slums. (Insert comforting feelings.) So he asked around about the safety of this area, and a polieman told him, "It´s your [censored]" (That was encouraging...).
So, we had one Latin American and 5 Yankees taking a merry trip to one of the most dangerous places in Buenos Aires, don´t worry, we left our valuables at home. Originally, we weren´t going to go in, just walk around the edges, but, as usual, curiousity prevails.
We were on the outskirts of the villa, and our friend asked a man walking by if he knew about a church anywhere. This guy lead us to the church several blocks away. I was amazed by the beauty of the church on the inside. Outside was the slums, but on the inside was a really nice space: new tile on the floor, projectors, laptops, instruments, and sound systems. Granted, the other half the auditorium was not finished and still had a dirt floor, but the half that was done looked great. The people were very nice and told us that they recieved no government help, and that the building was built and paid for by the people of the church, little by little. They invited us to the prayer meeting that night, but we were not going to stick around until dark. (We may be dumb enough to go to the slums, but we had no intention of being there without our friend the daylight).
We continued a little ways to a big open area. It was a paved soccer court where about 16 or so guys were playing soccer. Of course, they all had some kind of jersey, I saw a Barcelona one, and there were other European teams represented. There were also a few volleyball nets with people playing. It was as if we were in world inside the world. This community seemed to have nothing to do with the train station 1/4 mile away, or highway only 70 feet above us.
The little house stacked on top of each other, each person with their own life. It was charming, in its own little way. People selling grilled meat on the street, occasional cars trying to get through the on the narrow street. Most people think I´m crazy when I give this description, and maybe I just wear rose-colored glasses. But, I just get tired of people talking so terribly about these places, not to mention the judgemental attitude toward me, when I tell them were I went. A lot of believers forget that there are real people there with real needs for Christ. All they is a place where two squard cars have to accompany an ambulance in an emergency. I´m not trying to judge, but don´t think that I´m not tempted.
Don´t take this the wrong way, I´m not trying to minimize the danger or the reality of life. But sometimes, as believers; I think that we need to let that stuff go in order to focus on what really matters.
The guy we asked has a been a pastor/missionary for many years, and I figured that he would have some contact or something on the inside. When we met up with him, we found out that he had never darkened the inside of the slums. (Insert comforting feelings.) So he asked around about the safety of this area, and a polieman told him, "It´s your [censored]" (That was encouraging...).
So, we had one Latin American and 5 Yankees taking a merry trip to one of the most dangerous places in Buenos Aires, don´t worry, we left our valuables at home. Originally, we weren´t going to go in, just walk around the edges, but, as usual, curiousity prevails.
We were on the outskirts of the villa, and our friend asked a man walking by if he knew about a church anywhere. This guy lead us to the church several blocks away. I was amazed by the beauty of the church on the inside. Outside was the slums, but on the inside was a really nice space: new tile on the floor, projectors, laptops, instruments, and sound systems. Granted, the other half the auditorium was not finished and still had a dirt floor, but the half that was done looked great. The people were very nice and told us that they recieved no government help, and that the building was built and paid for by the people of the church, little by little. They invited us to the prayer meeting that night, but we were not going to stick around until dark. (We may be dumb enough to go to the slums, but we had no intention of being there without our friend the daylight).
We continued a little ways to a big open area. It was a paved soccer court where about 16 or so guys were playing soccer. Of course, they all had some kind of jersey, I saw a Barcelona one, and there were other European teams represented. There were also a few volleyball nets with people playing. It was as if we were in world inside the world. This community seemed to have nothing to do with the train station 1/4 mile away, or highway only 70 feet above us.
The little house stacked on top of each other, each person with their own life. It was charming, in its own little way. People selling grilled meat on the street, occasional cars trying to get through the on the narrow street. Most people think I´m crazy when I give this description, and maybe I just wear rose-colored glasses. But, I just get tired of people talking so terribly about these places, not to mention the judgemental attitude toward me, when I tell them were I went. A lot of believers forget that there are real people there with real needs for Christ. All they is a place where two squard cars have to accompany an ambulance in an emergency. I´m not trying to judge, but don´t think that I´m not tempted.
Don´t take this the wrong way, I´m not trying to minimize the danger or the reality of life. But sometimes, as believers; I think that we need to let that stuff go in order to focus on what really matters.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
My Upbringing
I talk quite a bit formative years, and those of you who have spent a lot of time around me hear "when I was raised" several times in a conversation. Part of the reason for this is that the older I get, the more I realize how handy the things that I have learned are. It makes me very thankful for my parents and other role models that I have had in my life. But, more importantly, it is a blessing to look back and see that God clearly has had a plan for my life. I remember times that I thought how much better my life would have been had certain things not happened. (I've been known to contemplate my hypothetical life without Mexico in my past, or without the leaving of Mexico, and as one can imagine, the possibilities are close to endless.)
No matter what my feelings may be at any given time, I know that I can rest in His perfect plan. If I were the begin to list the miracles that God performs in my life, I wouldn't have time to finish. There is no way that I would have gotten to were I am now without the intricate past that God has been weaving for the past 19 or so years. And that's just my life, I don't know your story. Grace College's theme last year was "Authored" referring to God's role in our lives. I am blown away by what has been/is being written in His story that just happens to include me.
I owe my formation to the Lord and to all the people that He has used along the way. None of my plans could ever add up what the Lord has for me.
No matter what my feelings may be at any given time, I know that I can rest in His perfect plan. If I were the begin to list the miracles that God performs in my life, I wouldn't have time to finish. There is no way that I would have gotten to were I am now without the intricate past that God has been weaving for the past 19 or so years. And that's just my life, I don't know your story. Grace College's theme last year was "Authored" referring to God's role in our lives. I am blown away by what has been/is being written in His story that just happens to include me.
I owe my formation to the Lord and to all the people that He has used along the way. None of my plans could ever add up what the Lord has for me.
"All the doors that I had to close
All the things I knew but I didn't know
I thank God for all I've missed,
Cuz it led me here to this."
- Darius Rucker
(this maybe a love song, but it still fits.)
I remember the days of old;
I meditate on all Your doings;
I muse on the work of Your hands.
I stretch out my hands to You;
My soul longs for You, as a parched land.
Selah.
Psalm 143:5-6:
I remember the days of old;
I meditate on all Your doings;
I muse on the work of Your hands.
I stretch out my hands to You;
My soul longs for You, as a parched land.
Selah.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
A Changed Life
Today, I'm going to tell you a story about a friend of mine: his name is David Monteros.
David was born in the province of Chubut, Argentina on January 29th, 1991. Growing up, he had a fairly normal life, as normal as pastor's kid's life can be. He enjoyed a very unified family life. Talking to David, he's not really sure if he was saved as a child. He definitely "prayed the prayer," but he's not sure if his life was changed by the Holy Spirit. He told me that he really doesn't care if he was saved then or not, I'll tell you why in a minute.
As a young boy, David didn't have many friends, just a couple of close ones that somehow or another let him down. Some moved away, some betrayed him. He had a lot of anger towards those kids, which became a lot of anger in general. As far as his relationship with God was concerned, it was non-existent. He was the pastor's son and had to be a good kid. So he was.
So, he lived a lie for most of his life. Last year, things were starting to get bad. He felt empty, and he knew that he needed to change. He and his sister had moved away from home to go to school in Buenos Aires. He told me that he was in a deep state of depression and he literal wept everyday on his bed because he was so miserable, and he hated God. He realized that material possessions weren't filling up the emptiness in his heart.
He had so much anger harbored in his heart against the church and just about everyone. It was summer break of 2011 (in Argentina that's in January), and David was tired of faking a spiritually healthy life. He was ready to take of his mask. So, while at home, he allowed his sin to show. He was rude to his parents and was constantly anger and snapping and people. But, he was relieved to let out all of that bottled-up rage. One time, he was bragging to mother how he had manipulated a situation to hurt some people and how much he enjoyed it. She looked at him and said, "That's straight from the devil." Needless to say, he was impacted by that.
In that same time period, his dad told him that he needed to fix his problems. He had seen the pain that David was experiencing, and he asked his son for forgiveness in the ways that he had hurt him. He told him that he need to pray. So, he began to pray, and he began to forgive all the people that had hurt him in his life. Then, he began to realize that he needed to be forgiven too. He realized that his sin had killed Christ, but somehow He was offering him a second chance. And he took it. (That's why he isn't concerned if he was saved as a child or not).
He knew he needed a change, and the Lord changed his life. He began to read the Word and to pray that week, but he didn't understand anything. It was almost a week before the Spirit began to open his eyes to the wonderful things in the Word of God.
Since then, he has been a new man. The Lord has blessed him in incredible ways. Specifically, he has seen God answer a ton of prayers, sometimes instantly. I could tell you dozens of stories in which he asked for friends, funds, fellowship, etc, and God answered. I'm going to tell you one:
Last month, God put a burden in his heart for his cousin who isn't saved. While he was still praying for an opportunity to witness to her alone, he received a text message. It was from his cousin saying that she was headed over! No one else was home, and David was able to tell her about the change that God had made in his life. These kinds of miracles have become almost commonplace in his life.
Since David and I have become friends, he has been nothing but an encouragement to me. His faith is impressive and his joy in undeniable. He has been a gift straight from God to my life and to so many others.
David was born in the province of Chubut, Argentina on January 29th, 1991. Growing up, he had a fairly normal life, as normal as pastor's kid's life can be. He enjoyed a very unified family life. Talking to David, he's not really sure if he was saved as a child. He definitely "prayed the prayer," but he's not sure if his life was changed by the Holy Spirit. He told me that he really doesn't care if he was saved then or not, I'll tell you why in a minute.
As a young boy, David didn't have many friends, just a couple of close ones that somehow or another let him down. Some moved away, some betrayed him. He had a lot of anger towards those kids, which became a lot of anger in general. As far as his relationship with God was concerned, it was non-existent. He was the pastor's son and had to be a good kid. So he was.
So, he lived a lie for most of his life. Last year, things were starting to get bad. He felt empty, and he knew that he needed to change. He and his sister had moved away from home to go to school in Buenos Aires. He told me that he was in a deep state of depression and he literal wept everyday on his bed because he was so miserable, and he hated God. He realized that material possessions weren't filling up the emptiness in his heart.
He had so much anger harbored in his heart against the church and just about everyone. It was summer break of 2011 (in Argentina that's in January), and David was tired of faking a spiritually healthy life. He was ready to take of his mask. So, while at home, he allowed his sin to show. He was rude to his parents and was constantly anger and snapping and people. But, he was relieved to let out all of that bottled-up rage. One time, he was bragging to mother how he had manipulated a situation to hurt some people and how much he enjoyed it. She looked at him and said, "That's straight from the devil." Needless to say, he was impacted by that.
In that same time period, his dad told him that he needed to fix his problems. He had seen the pain that David was experiencing, and he asked his son for forgiveness in the ways that he had hurt him. He told him that he need to pray. So, he began to pray, and he began to forgive all the people that had hurt him in his life. Then, he began to realize that he needed to be forgiven too. He realized that his sin had killed Christ, but somehow He was offering him a second chance. And he took it. (That's why he isn't concerned if he was saved as a child or not).
He knew he needed a change, and the Lord changed his life. He began to read the Word and to pray that week, but he didn't understand anything. It was almost a week before the Spirit began to open his eyes to the wonderful things in the Word of God.
Since then, he has been a new man. The Lord has blessed him in incredible ways. Specifically, he has seen God answer a ton of prayers, sometimes instantly. I could tell you dozens of stories in which he asked for friends, funds, fellowship, etc, and God answered. I'm going to tell you one:
Last month, God put a burden in his heart for his cousin who isn't saved. While he was still praying for an opportunity to witness to her alone, he received a text message. It was from his cousin saying that she was headed over! No one else was home, and David was able to tell her about the change that God had made in his life. These kinds of miracles have become almost commonplace in his life.
Since David and I have become friends, he has been nothing but an encouragement to me. His faith is impressive and his joy in undeniable. He has been a gift straight from God to my life and to so many others.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Politically Speaking
As some of you may know, today is the day that Argentina decided on her president. The current president, Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, received about 53% of the votes, for her reelection. (The next closest candidate was Hermes Binner with 17%.)
Since the 1950s, Argentina has been a country that immensely favors populism. I have often pondered the differences the politics of Latin American leaders versus those of North American leaders. I often think, Don't they see what this is doing? By playing Robin Hood, you're hurting your own economy. (Recently, I have realized that Robin Hood was, indeed, a communist). "Rob from the rich to feed the poor." If that's not wealth redistribution, I don't know what is. The people here in Argentina expect the government to keep raising the laborers' salaries. Of course, this keeps the inflation moving in a steady upward direction. A qualification for a good administration is good wealth distribution. (If one were to say that last sentence in the States, someone might shoot you.
But let's get to the crux of the matter: there is a slight flaw with the Robin Hood illustration. Although he steals from the rich, he actually takes from Prince John who was taxing the living daylights out of the people of Nottingham. That is to say, the government is the problem, not the rich people.
While listening to Cristina's speech and the aftermath, I figured out a fundamental difference in these political systems. This difference is the enemy. The Founding Fathers of the United States created a Constitution that protected the people from, what? That's right kids! Big Government.
Thomas Jefferson said, "A government big enough to give you everything you need, is a government big enough to take away everything that you have...."
Ben Franklin is attributed to having said, "Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote."
Juan Domingo Perón (Argentina's greatest political leader) was known for having told the President of Chile that he needed to give to the workers and keep on giving to them and
keep on giving to them and when he felt like he had given them enough, that he should give them some more.
Note: I'm not trying to take away from Perón's work as it relates to human rights and working conditions. But, he hurt the nation because he killed his/its source of income, the agricultural industry. When you tax a sector til it no longer wants to produce, you're not allowed to ask, "What's wrong?"
Listening to the results of tonight's election, I heard someone say on TV that this administration will continue to protect Argentina from privatization. (In the '90s, President Menem sold a lot of public industries to private companies, and he is a very hated individual).
In the US of A, I don't think that general sentiment of government owned industries is, "It belongs to all of us." But, that could also be a difference of a more individualist society versus a collective society.
I don't really know what the moral of the story is, but I think that perhaps a book on culture differences may be in order.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
General Update
Hello, everyone!
It's been quite some time since I've written on the blog. The inspiration tank has been empty, and I'm not really sure why. Consequently I have decided just talk a little bit about life in general.
School is going well. We recently passed the midpoint of our semester and got all of those midterms out of the way. This week and next were have been/are pretty busy for me because I have 4 presentations. Wednesday and Thursday this week and Thursday and Friday next week. (Mental math would tell the reader that I have completed 2 and have 2 more.)
The church is also doing well. I'm currently playing the congas with the worship team. Our pastor is hoping to make it to Argentina in early November. We're really praying that he can come soon. The church has been without a pastor for much too long.
As some of you know, I'm playing basketball with the university team. It's pretty rag-tag and informal, but I enjoy it.
Saturday we're going, as a church, to a different church that's basically in the slums. A member of our church used to pastor there. I'm looking forward to it, and the whole church says that it's always a great trip. (I'm going to miss a basketball game, but that's the way things go).
As Hulu doesn't work outside of the US, I have had to find other ways to watch Psych. My cousin Sarah gave me a link that is working thus far.
I'm not really sure what else is of relevance... God is always good, but you probably know that. :)
Later,
Will
It's been quite some time since I've written on the blog. The inspiration tank has been empty, and I'm not really sure why. Consequently I have decided just talk a little bit about life in general.
School is going well. We recently passed the midpoint of our semester and got all of those midterms out of the way. This week and next were have been/are pretty busy for me because I have 4 presentations. Wednesday and Thursday this week and Thursday and Friday next week. (Mental math would tell the reader that I have completed 2 and have 2 more.)
The church is also doing well. I'm currently playing the congas with the worship team. Our pastor is hoping to make it to Argentina in early November. We're really praying that he can come soon. The church has been without a pastor for much too long.
As some of you know, I'm playing basketball with the university team. It's pretty rag-tag and informal, but I enjoy it.
Saturday we're going, as a church, to a different church that's basically in the slums. A member of our church used to pastor there. I'm looking forward to it, and the whole church says that it's always a great trip. (I'm going to miss a basketball game, but that's the way things go).
As Hulu doesn't work outside of the US, I have had to find other ways to watch Psych. My cousin Sarah gave me a link that is working thus far.
I'm not really sure what else is of relevance... God is always good, but you probably know that. :)
Later,
Will
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Almighty Dollar
Most Americans don't have to worry about currency. In the US, we have one form of money: Greenbacks. No drama, no problems. My Econ prof brought up some very interesting points today in class. He was talking about the general mistrust of the peso here in Argentina. In Argentina, it began in the late fifties when the devaluing of the peso became common and inflation was at %100 annually. And today, even the people that recycle cardboard for a living know the exchange rate between the Argentine peso and the US dollar.
He made the point that Argentina has two currencies. I was told once that any amount that was 4 digits or more in pesos would be listed in dollars. And it's really true, small purchases are the only things that are handled in pesos. All properties, vacation packages, and luxury cars are sold in dollars.
This same professor recently bought a house in a high-end neighborhood of Buenos Aires. He never mentioned the exact price, but in one example, he used the term $300,000 USD. And judging by the area of town, a two-story house is worth at least that much. It was a very interesting process: In a room in the back of the bank, a notary checked over the contract, all spelled out in pesos. Then, the seller said, "Well, get the dollars." So, the buyer walked down the hall to the teller and bought the dollars. (The notary had informed the bank that on that day they would need x amount of dollars, cause he wants to get paid too). The buyer carries the armful of greenbacks back to the room where another man counts them, under the notary's supervision.
Once everything is settled, the seller begins to divide money up into stacks of about $60,000 and gives them to his family members who were with him, mostly women. They began to hide their money in their garments. Money secured, the merry little band headed out to the car, which was parked three blocks away. The buyer (my prof) told us that he felt so bad that he walked with them to the car, just for safety's sake.
He used this story to illustrate the system of two currencies. Then, asked us (a class of mostly Americans) what was written on our money. Of course, the Portuguese student answers, "In God We Trust." The other is "This note is legal tender for all debts public and private." He told us that in the States, you can't refuse someone who wants to pay you in dollars. U.S. greenbacks are good for any kind of payment. In Argentina you have the phrase "Traeme verde" - "Bring me green." Pesos are often rejected.
Dollars is the currency of savings in Argentina, and most developing countries. For example China's federal reserve is all in dollars, (about 20% of our GNP). Brazil and Russia save in dollars too. The whole world is looking for green. This gives strength to the States because they can keep printing money.
The interesting thing is that even though it would seem to make more sense to save in Brazilian Reals or Chinese Yen (currencies of fast growing nations), the world continues to, overall, trust the dollar. They always have.
All of this makes me wonder: What happens if the US is brought to a point where the government feels the need to devalue the currency? I kinda feel like the whole world would be in trouble.
But, I don't really know anything.
He made the point that Argentina has two currencies. I was told once that any amount that was 4 digits or more in pesos would be listed in dollars. And it's really true, small purchases are the only things that are handled in pesos. All properties, vacation packages, and luxury cars are sold in dollars.
This same professor recently bought a house in a high-end neighborhood of Buenos Aires. He never mentioned the exact price, but in one example, he used the term $300,000 USD. And judging by the area of town, a two-story house is worth at least that much. It was a very interesting process: In a room in the back of the bank, a notary checked over the contract, all spelled out in pesos. Then, the seller said, "Well, get the dollars." So, the buyer walked down the hall to the teller and bought the dollars. (The notary had informed the bank that on that day they would need x amount of dollars, cause he wants to get paid too). The buyer carries the armful of greenbacks back to the room where another man counts them, under the notary's supervision.
Once everything is settled, the seller begins to divide money up into stacks of about $60,000 and gives them to his family members who were with him, mostly women. They began to hide their money in their garments. Money secured, the merry little band headed out to the car, which was parked three blocks away. The buyer (my prof) told us that he felt so bad that he walked with them to the car, just for safety's sake.
He used this story to illustrate the system of two currencies. Then, asked us (a class of mostly Americans) what was written on our money. Of course, the Portuguese student answers, "In God We Trust." The other is "This note is legal tender for all debts public and private." He told us that in the States, you can't refuse someone who wants to pay you in dollars. U.S. greenbacks are good for any kind of payment. In Argentina you have the phrase "Traeme verde" - "Bring me green." Pesos are often rejected.
Dollars is the currency of savings in Argentina, and most developing countries. For example China's federal reserve is all in dollars, (about 20% of our GNP). Brazil and Russia save in dollars too. The whole world is looking for green. This gives strength to the States because they can keep printing money.
The interesting thing is that even though it would seem to make more sense to save in Brazilian Reals or Chinese Yen (currencies of fast growing nations), the world continues to, overall, trust the dollar. They always have.
All of this makes me wonder: What happens if the US is brought to a point where the government feels the need to devalue the currency? I kinda feel like the whole world would be in trouble.
But, I don't really know anything.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Responsibility and Trust
According to the StrengsQuest quiz, responsibility is my top strength. This makes sense, since I am an oldest child. I consider my self a responsible person and take jobs and duties seriously. I also am quick to blame myself when things go wrong. Deep down, I may know it was directly someone else's fault, but I'm quick to apologize because I can see how I could have prevented the problem.
In the situations with which I am involved, I like to be in charge. "Being in charge" brings high levels of control and responsibility, which is good. I don't like getting involved with things that are going to tie my hands and leave me at the mercy of someone else.
About now, you're probably thinking: Will, I really don't care about your thought processes or that you're a control freak. Get the point!
The point is this: Because I like to be in charge, I find it difficult, sometimes, to trust God. I feel uncomfortable with situations that I can't control. I mean it sounds great to say, "Well, I'm just trusting the Lord on this one..." But in the end, I feel so irresponsible and immature. I think, I'm an adult and can take care of myself! What am I doing? The reason for this is that I don't want to give up "being in charge." Not being in control means that I am left with nothing. The only thing to cling to is Christ. There's no "standing alone because I can" because, quite frankly, I can't.
Recently, I have been finding myself in more and more situations where unhindered faith and trust in God is absolutely necessary. In those situations, I tend to realize that trusting God is actually the most mature and responsible decision possible.
In the situations with which I am involved, I like to be in charge. "Being in charge" brings high levels of control and responsibility, which is good. I don't like getting involved with things that are going to tie my hands and leave me at the mercy of someone else.
About now, you're probably thinking: Will, I really don't care about your thought processes or that you're a control freak. Get the point!
The point is this: Because I like to be in charge, I find it difficult, sometimes, to trust God. I feel uncomfortable with situations that I can't control. I mean it sounds great to say, "Well, I'm just trusting the Lord on this one..." But in the end, I feel so irresponsible and immature. I think, I'm an adult and can take care of myself! What am I doing? The reason for this is that I don't want to give up "being in charge." Not being in control means that I am left with nothing. The only thing to cling to is Christ. There's no "standing alone because I can" because, quite frankly, I can't.
Recently, I have been finding myself in more and more situations where unhindered faith and trust in God is absolutely necessary. In those situations, I tend to realize that trusting God is actually the most mature and responsible decision possible.
Monday, September 12, 2011
¿Todo Tranquilo?
The title is a a very typical greeting here in Argentina. It literally means "Is everything tranquil?" The normal response is "yes," mostly because it's a greeting.
This question caught my attention the other day. I don't think that in the States this greeting would really work. Partially because no one says "tranquil," but also because the stateside culture doesn't revolve around "taking it easy" as much as it does here in Latin America. I have heard some people say in the English: "things are pretty chill," but that's not often the case.
I am a person who generally appreciates punctuality. When it depends on me, I arrive on time. This often means sacrifices on my part because I enjoy taking my time with things like getting up the morning. This has caused for frustration in my life (both in Argentina and Mexico) because the general public doest not share this same value. The sweet time is taken without the sacrifice of something else.
As a result, the pace of life here is slower. And I am not complaining about that. In fact, stress about times and deadlines goes away.
I used the words "frustration" and "stress" on purpose. When the time crunch factor is taken out of the equation of life, it's much easier to answer "yes" when someone asks you if everything is tranquil.
This question caught my attention the other day. I don't think that in the States this greeting would really work. Partially because no one says "tranquil," but also because the stateside culture doesn't revolve around "taking it easy" as much as it does here in Latin America. I have heard some people say in the English: "things are pretty chill," but that's not often the case.
I am a person who generally appreciates punctuality. When it depends on me, I arrive on time. This often means sacrifices on my part because I enjoy taking my time with things like getting up the morning. This has caused for frustration in my life (both in Argentina and Mexico) because the general public doest not share this same value. The sweet time is taken without the sacrifice of something else.
As a result, the pace of life here is slower. And I am not complaining about that. In fact, stress about times and deadlines goes away.
I used the words "frustration" and "stress" on purpose. When the time crunch factor is taken out of the equation of life, it's much easier to answer "yes" when someone asks you if everything is tranquil.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
There Are Things that You Can't Learn at a Christian College
It's very difficult to teach something that you don't believe. I have had very little contact with the modernism and postmodernism points of view in my life. The only time I can really say that they were explained to me well was in church a while back from a seminary student who quickly explained them and why they were wrong. Especially in Christian settings, it's really hard to teach stuff like that because it just doesn't match our worldview.
My communication class here is all about globalization, postmodernism, individualization, fragmentation, and stuff like that. We're learning about how the world is changing, become more alike, yet also breaking apart. Coming together, but becoming more individual. It's really, really difficult to teach that without a postmodern worldview. The idea that everyone has their own truth, and the idea of absolute, objective truth is non-existent.
One of the books that we are reading is called Liquid Modernity. It's the idea that everything is ever-changing, and there are no constants. To sum it all up, the world is moving and morphing at a spectacular pace. The voice of mass media reaches every corner of the planet, broadcasting every imaginable idea or belief.
So where am I going with this? The last few weeks in church Pastor Dan has been speaking about trusting God in change. An accident? Doubt it. His first point on Sunday was "In the midst of change, trust the things that never change." Talking about God and His Word.
Mix that into a postmodern world and what do you get? A swirling hurricane of information, beliefs, viewpoints, and news with one thing standing undaunted: The Word of God.
My communication class here is all about globalization, postmodernism, individualization, fragmentation, and stuff like that. We're learning about how the world is changing, become more alike, yet also breaking apart. Coming together, but becoming more individual. It's really, really difficult to teach that without a postmodern worldview. The idea that everyone has their own truth, and the idea of absolute, objective truth is non-existent.
One of the books that we are reading is called Liquid Modernity. It's the idea that everything is ever-changing, and there are no constants. To sum it all up, the world is moving and morphing at a spectacular pace. The voice of mass media reaches every corner of the planet, broadcasting every imaginable idea or belief.
So where am I going with this? The last few weeks in church Pastor Dan has been speaking about trusting God in change. An accident? Doubt it. His first point on Sunday was "In the midst of change, trust the things that never change." Talking about God and His Word.
Mix that into a postmodern world and what do you get? A swirling hurricane of information, beliefs, viewpoints, and news with one thing standing undaunted: The Word of God.
Isaiah 40:8 The grass withers, the flower fades,
But the word of our God stands forever
But the word of our God stands forever
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Perception of sin
As I get older, I come in contact with more and more sin. It just happens, I don't look for it, but it's everywhere. The other day, I noticed that I was becoming a little desensitized to certain things. For example, I've gotten passed the point where my ears bleed when I hear certain phrases (and stuff like that.)
I began to compare that to God. I realized that on that plane, God and I are vastly different. God doesn't get desensitized to sin. His holiness doesn't tolerate any kind of wickedness. So I began to think, where does that leave me?
I'm not going to say that I have an answer. But think about the sin that doesn't bother you to see anymore. Think about how God looks at that sin.
Does your attitude change?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Salt
The other day, we had company, and my "brother" bought bread from the grocery store around the corner. When I tasted the bread, I knew something was askew. This bread looked completely normal. It had all the indications of regular, tasty bread. But, all of my expectations were shattered when it entered my mouth. The bread was bland, flavorless. My first conclusion was "This bread doesn't have any salt in it." My "mom" later confirmed my sneaking suspicion.
The next day, I ate some regular bread, and some of the saltless bread just because. The difference was impressive. The saltless bread made me want to spit and the wash my mouth out with soap.
I made a comment to my "mom" about the difference, and she said that that is why as Christians, we are the salt of the earth. I was kinda impacted by that. I mean, the earth is gonna taste like that nasty bread if we don't do our job? Yikes!
I began to think about the importance of salt in food. It's an absolute necessity. Cooking isn't really cooking without salt.
The next day, I ate some regular bread, and some of the saltless bread just because. The difference was impressive. The saltless bread made me want to spit and the wash my mouth out with soap.
I made a comment to my "mom" about the difference, and she said that that is why as Christians, we are the salt of the earth. I was kinda impacted by that. I mean, the earth is gonna taste like that nasty bread if we don't do our job? Yikes!
I began to think about the importance of salt in food. It's an absolute necessity. Cooking isn't really cooking without salt.
So here's my question: Are you being salt in your saltless world? Are the places that you frequent impacted positively by your presence?
“You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.
Matthew 5:13
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Hidden Deep Down
Living in Argentina requires my speaking Spanish. That's a given. Being out of Mexico for several years has caused my Spanish to corrode. So, I have relearned simple words and phrases that belong to the Spanish language. At the same time, I am learning a lot of expressions and idioms that are specific to Argentina (or just Buenos Aires).
As my sister noticed the other day, my accent and pronunciation has changed after being here for three months. Not that people don't still call me "Mexicanote" (big Mexican), which I don't mind. But, lots of my slang I use is Argentine because that's what I hear everyday.
The interesting phenomenon that I have observed, is that I still have words coming out of hibernation. Suddenly, a certain situation requires a specific word that I haven't said or thought of for years, and it comes out of my mouth. I smile with contentment because I knew that word, but the Argentines giggle. Suddenly, I break into a cold sweat, I was sure that I used that correctly. Oh boy, I just said something bad. So I ask, "Is that not right?" The giggler often responds with, "Well, we don't say that here, but instead we say-"
So, I learn the Argentine expression, and try not to forget the Mexican one. But that makes me wonder, how much Spanish do I have stored in my brain that I have yet to rediscover? I mean, it's not that my Spanish was better before. I speak Spanish more fluently now than I ever did in Mexico, but certain terms I haven't needed here yet.
This, in turn, causes me to ask. What else do I have hidden in my mind that just hasn't wanted to resurface? Memories, ideas, feelings. The possibilities are close to endless. What could be done with all of that information? I'm sure a lot of it is useless, but it may be meaningful, may be hurtful, may be helpful.
I think that I'm going to try to record more of my life, thoughts, and ideas so that I can look back. I'm not saying that it's healthy to dwell in the past. But,
As my sister noticed the other day, my accent and pronunciation has changed after being here for three months. Not that people don't still call me "Mexicanote" (big Mexican), which I don't mind. But, lots of my slang I use is Argentine because that's what I hear everyday.
The interesting phenomenon that I have observed, is that I still have words coming out of hibernation. Suddenly, a certain situation requires a specific word that I haven't said or thought of for years, and it comes out of my mouth. I smile with contentment because I knew that word, but the Argentines giggle. Suddenly, I break into a cold sweat, I was sure that I used that correctly. Oh boy, I just said something bad. So I ask, "Is that not right?" The giggler often responds with, "Well, we don't say that here, but instead we say-"
So, I learn the Argentine expression, and try not to forget the Mexican one. But that makes me wonder, how much Spanish do I have stored in my brain that I have yet to rediscover? I mean, it's not that my Spanish was better before. I speak Spanish more fluently now than I ever did in Mexico, but certain terms I haven't needed here yet.
This, in turn, causes me to ask. What else do I have hidden in my mind that just hasn't wanted to resurface? Memories, ideas, feelings. The possibilities are close to endless. What could be done with all of that information? I'm sure a lot of it is useless, but it may be meaningful, may be hurtful, may be helpful.
I think that I'm going to try to record more of my life, thoughts, and ideas so that I can look back. I'm not saying that it's healthy to dwell in the past. But,
Don't forget to remember.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Borges y Yo
I've talked about Jose Luis Borges a little bit, but now, I'm going to go into a little more detail. Borges was born in Buenos Aires in 1899, but because of his father's health problems, he grew up in Switzerland (1904-21). When he returned to Buenos Aires, he fell in love with the city, and he wrote a great deal about it; these writing are among the ones that made him famous.
Certain things are always present in my mind, simply because of who I am. I saw that Borges grew up in a country that was not where his parents were from, and immediately, I attributed his success as one of the greatest Latin American authors of all to time to his TCKness (Third Culture Kid)ness.
When Borges returned to Buenos Aires, he realized that this was indeed where he belonged. He wrote that the time in Europe was non-existent; Argentina was all that mattered. (Granted, that thought pattern isn't exactly typical for TCKs, but bear with me). Because he hadn't grown up here, he could describe the city in ways that a native couldn't. Because it was new for him, his perspective was vastly different.
In other ways, he shows very strong TCK trends. He thought that traditions were stupid. Some Argentines accused him of being anti-patriotic because of this. But, he didn't see the point of traditions and rituals. His philosophy was to take the useful part of a tradition and leave the rest alone. This carried over to his religious views as he saw the emptiness in the traditionalism of the Abrahamic religions. Apparently, he showed interest in Buddhism because the ability to "pick and choose." I thought that was really interesting. "Picking and choosing" seems to be a TCK thing. Because they have seen a lot of things (cultures, traditions, etc), a mix is the most natural result.
Needless to say, I have become much more interested in Borges and his life, now that I know that he was a TCK.
Note on the title: Borges wrote a small work called Borges y Yo (Borges and I). He talks about his seemly split personality. The public figure and the simple man. I kinda played with that as Borges and I (Will).
Certain things are always present in my mind, simply because of who I am. I saw that Borges grew up in a country that was not where his parents were from, and immediately, I attributed his success as one of the greatest Latin American authors of all to time to his TCKness (Third Culture Kid)ness.
When Borges returned to Buenos Aires, he realized that this was indeed where he belonged. He wrote that the time in Europe was non-existent; Argentina was all that mattered. (Granted, that thought pattern isn't exactly typical for TCKs, but bear with me). Because he hadn't grown up here, he could describe the city in ways that a native couldn't. Because it was new for him, his perspective was vastly different.
In other ways, he shows very strong TCK trends. He thought that traditions were stupid. Some Argentines accused him of being anti-patriotic because of this. But, he didn't see the point of traditions and rituals. His philosophy was to take the useful part of a tradition and leave the rest alone. This carried over to his religious views as he saw the emptiness in the traditionalism of the Abrahamic religions. Apparently, he showed interest in Buddhism because the ability to "pick and choose." I thought that was really interesting. "Picking and choosing" seems to be a TCK thing. Because they have seen a lot of things (cultures, traditions, etc), a mix is the most natural result.
Needless to say, I have become much more interested in Borges and his life, now that I know that he was a TCK.
Note on the title: Borges wrote a small work called Borges y Yo (Borges and I). He talks about his seemly split personality. The public figure and the simple man. I kinda played with that as Borges and I (Will).
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Clippings, but not from the Newspaper
If you've spent much time around me, you've probably noticed one of my many bad habits: biting my nails. Well, I'm working on quitting, and tonight, I experienced a small taste of success:
About a week or so ago, I decided that I needed to consciously make an effort to stop biting my nails and start using fingernail clippers. So, every time that I would start to chew on my fingers, I would think "Stop it!" Obviously, I didn't execute this as perfectly as I would've hoped. But, I resisted biting my pointer fingers' nails. The other ones did receive some tooth attention.
I realized tonight, that my pointer fingers' nails were actually long enough to cut; I was a little bit excited. (It's the simple pleasures, guys). A year ago, I bought fingernail clippers, but I can probably count on one hand how many times I've used them. So, it was almost the maiden voyage for this little metal device. And I clipped my fingernails. Hurrah!!
However exciting this may be, it's not what I wanted to share. While cutting my nails, I realized that I was really out of practice (especially with my left hand). It just felt weird, unnatural because I never do it. But, the weird feeling didn't keep me from cutting my nails because I knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew by cutting them with the clippers would keep away the pain of biting off a nail too short. Plus, they just look better.
This made me think of life. Many times, we need to discipline ourselves to do stuff that is weird and unnatural because it will do us good in the end. Good things are difficult to do for our evil flesh. We trust God because His rewards are a quite a bit better than what this world has to offer. Once you get in the habit of doing the right thing, it becomes as normal as the bad habit used to be.
The hardest part is that first step, that maiden voyage for the good habit. Evangelist Mark Cahill shares Christ with everyone he meets (and he meets a whole lot of people) says that the first person of the day is always the hardest. After that, they just come more easier and easier.
About a week or so ago, I decided that I needed to consciously make an effort to stop biting my nails and start using fingernail clippers. So, every time that I would start to chew on my fingers, I would think "Stop it!" Obviously, I didn't execute this as perfectly as I would've hoped. But, I resisted biting my pointer fingers' nails. The other ones did receive some tooth attention.
I realized tonight, that my pointer fingers' nails were actually long enough to cut; I was a little bit excited. (It's the simple pleasures, guys). A year ago, I bought fingernail clippers, but I can probably count on one hand how many times I've used them. So, it was almost the maiden voyage for this little metal device. And I clipped my fingernails. Hurrah!!
However exciting this may be, it's not what I wanted to share. While cutting my nails, I realized that I was really out of practice (especially with my left hand). It just felt weird, unnatural because I never do it. But, the weird feeling didn't keep me from cutting my nails because I knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew by cutting them with the clippers would keep away the pain of biting off a nail too short. Plus, they just look better.
This made me think of life. Many times, we need to discipline ourselves to do stuff that is weird and unnatural because it will do us good in the end. Good things are difficult to do for our evil flesh. We trust God because His rewards are a quite a bit better than what this world has to offer. Once you get in the habit of doing the right thing, it becomes as normal as the bad habit used to be.
The hardest part is that first step, that maiden voyage for the good habit. Evangelist Mark Cahill shares Christ with everyone he meets (and he meets a whole lot of people) says that the first person of the day is always the hardest. After that, they just come more easier and easier.
So don't hesitate, Stop the bad, Start the good.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Christian Teapots
Yesterday, I was helping a friend make a video for youth group. We had drunk some cappuccino, and the teapot was a still on the table. I thought to myself, "Self, I think you'd like a little swallow of hot water." So, I poured myself a little bit and drank it. To my surprise and disappointment, the water was not hot at all, but just room temperature. I could've poured myself a glass from the regular pitcher if I wanted lukewarm water!
One would hope to find hot (or even boiling) water in a teapot. And when one finds a teapot full of lukewarm water, he asks, "What's the point?"
About that time, I realized that a it's not really the teapot that makes the water hot. It's the stove that teapot sits on. Without a stove (or some kind of fire), a teapot is simply a metal pitcher.
Christians are like teapots: When they've been away from the fire, you can tell. They're laking in passion; they're not really fulfilling their purpose. They're not being used because they're not available. They may have the right stuff inside, but it's not heated to the right degree.
In order for a teapot to be able to pour hot water, it's gotta sit on the stove. In order for a Christian to be effective, he's gotta spend time in the Word, in prayer, and with other believers. It's not worth pouring cold water out of a teapot.
One would hope to find hot (or even boiling) water in a teapot. And when one finds a teapot full of lukewarm water, he asks, "What's the point?"
About that time, I realized that a it's not really the teapot that makes the water hot. It's the stove that teapot sits on. Without a stove (or some kind of fire), a teapot is simply a metal pitcher.
Christians are like teapots: When they've been away from the fire, you can tell. They're laking in passion; they're not really fulfilling their purpose. They're not being used because they're not available. They may have the right stuff inside, but it's not heated to the right degree.
In order for a teapot to be able to pour hot water, it's gotta sit on the stove. In order for a Christian to be effective, he's gotta spend time in the Word, in prayer, and with other believers. It's not worth pouring cold water out of a teapot.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Learning in Circles
Language learning
Language learning must be done in circles: It’s impossible to learn it all the first time around. You need a second lap.
But more than that, by studying more things in a language, you learn stuff that you didn’t get last week in class.
In addition, every student is different, so you can’t count on Student A to learn the same stuff as Student B in a given unit.
So the million dollar question: Why don’t you just slow down and teach it bit-by-bit? Because that’s neither conducive to communication nor profitable for class time. The blanks that inevitably will be left in a student’s mind will be filled in in the lessons that follow.
One student can’t grasp the entirety of Concept 1 without learning Concept 2. However, his friend completely understood Concept 1, but didn’t wrap his mind around Concept 2 until the end of semester, when he saw it compared to Concept 8.
Am I making sense?
To accommodate learning styles, circular teaching is necessary. Teaching incomplete concepts is pointless because the students leave the classroom with nothing that they can hold on to. The same topics need to be looked at again at a later time in the course of the semester/year/or whatever.
I basically got this idea from Prof Jacqueline Schram, I’ve just added a little.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
An Average Day in the Life of an Average Will
I started school this week. As you can imagine, it's a little different than Grace College and Theological Seminary. For starters, I live an hour away from campus by bus. In general that's not a problem because on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays I don't have to be at school until 1 o'clock in the afternoon. But on Fridays I have to be at school at 9:40 and Wednesdays at 8:00 am! That's a problem.
As of now, I'm taking 4 classes here, all in Spanish. Three of them are classes in the international student program and one class with Argentine students. The international classes are Latin American History in the 20th Century, Argentine Political Economy, and a lit class that is a study of Latin American cities with Buenos Aires as the model. The regular class that I am taking is called Theory and Practice of Communication part 2. Down here, there aren't any electives for regular students. For each major, there is a set schedule that you follow every year. So, I inserted myself into a group of communication majors that have already been together for a semester. (We are in second semester down here, thus part 2).
The professors here make me smile. I have one professor who is classic a Argentine. This means that he was placed on this earth to tell the world why Argentina is the best nation in the world. On the other hand, I have a teacher that describes this country with words that I shan't repeat here.
I'm also playing basketball with the university team. We practice twice a week, and it's pretty informal: whoever shows, practices. And the coach picks who plays in the games. Our first game is August 27th.
I don't know what you all want to hear about, so let me know.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Mission Accomplished
After an interesting spat with the printer, I had almost everything I needed for appointment with immigrations. The checklist from the school had one blank: proof of registration at the University of Belgrano. I had everything else. I marked the checklist, filled my backpack, and checked my imaginary sidearm, and went to bed feeling like some kind of international spy. I was so psyched about being a spy that I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about top secret missions in France that were so secret that I didn't even know what they were about.
About the time that I drifted off to sleep, the alarm clock went off. Fifteen minutes later, I was awake and going. I got to school about the time that I wanted to, got my document, and kept moving. Two subways and a wrong turn later, I got the the immigrations office about half an hour after my appointment time. But, I still got in the incredibly long line. Very soon, the idea of being a spy disintegrated. Superspies don't stand in long lines. While in the line, I realized the other reason why I couldn't be a spy: spies aren't supposed to stand out. Looking at my reflection, I noticed that the 8 closest people to me didn't even come up to my shoulder (most of them were men). Well, if you need a spy to infiltrate the NBA, let me know...
After an hour, I reached the front. The process was fairly slick, if you don't mind being told to go back and forth across the room and squeezing onto a crowded bench about 4 times. But I was glad to sit. I have no idea how many times that I signed my name, but I think that I'm got my signature down. So, the guys finally hands me a paper, and says, "Come back in 20 days." "Thank you."
Then, I got on a train, and came home. Mission. Accomplished.
About the time that I drifted off to sleep, the alarm clock went off. Fifteen minutes later, I was awake and going. I got to school about the time that I wanted to, got my document, and kept moving. Two subways and a wrong turn later, I got the the immigrations office about half an hour after my appointment time. But, I still got in the incredibly long line. Very soon, the idea of being a spy disintegrated. Superspies don't stand in long lines. While in the line, I realized the other reason why I couldn't be a spy: spies aren't supposed to stand out. Looking at my reflection, I noticed that the 8 closest people to me didn't even come up to my shoulder (most of them were men). Well, if you need a spy to infiltrate the NBA, let me know...
After an hour, I reached the front. The process was fairly slick, if you don't mind being told to go back and forth across the room and squeezing onto a crowded bench about 4 times. But I was glad to sit. I have no idea how many times that I signed my name, but I think that I'm got my signature down. So, the guys finally hands me a paper, and says, "Come back in 20 days." "Thank you."
Then, I got on a train, and came home. Mission. Accomplished.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tetris
I was playing Tetris today, and I realized that this little game has a lot of real life applications, as do must things that aren't real life. Think about it, it starts of slow and you think, "Ok, really? I think that I could go eat dinner before the next piece gets here." Then, "Hehe, this is challenging, just fast enough to be fun." And before you know it, "Holy cow, what's going on!?" And there's that horrible feeling of helplessness, that you just can't do it!
Tetris makes me think of life in light of decision making. You don't realize how awful that decision was til 0.5 seconds after the point of no return. Then, you try to switch white horses in the middle of the river, and things just get messy. You think, "If only I could see the future..." Hey, buddy, that little box in the corner shows you what's coming next! "Oh."
Also, tetris teaches patience, if you mess up, you can't fix it in one move. You have to carefully handle the pieces that the game throws at you to fix your mistakes. Sound familiar?
I'm sure that this post portrays me as a man full of regrets peering into the mirror of a simple game. That's not really the case. These are just the things that come to mind as I play tetris. The great thing about the game is that once you lose, you can always start over. In that respect, it's not like life.
Tetris makes me think of life in light of decision making. You don't realize how awful that decision was til 0.5 seconds after the point of no return. Then, you try to switch white horses in the middle of the river, and things just get messy. You think, "If only I could see the future..." Hey, buddy, that little box in the corner shows you what's coming next! "Oh."
Also, tetris teaches patience, if you mess up, you can't fix it in one move. You have to carefully handle the pieces that the game throws at you to fix your mistakes. Sound familiar?
I'm sure that this post portrays me as a man full of regrets peering into the mirror of a simple game. That's not really the case. These are just the things that come to mind as I play tetris. The great thing about the game is that once you lose, you can always start over. In that respect, it's not like life.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Streetwise
Most of you who know me, know how I get to knew places. For me, every place is like island of Tortuga from Pirates of the Caribbean. If I haven't been there before, I can't find it. In the past week, I've had two adventures trying to get to knew places.
Last Thursday, I was going to a concert at the Christian Book Fair. My friend's band Remake was playing. I couldn't decide how I was going to get there. I didn't want to take two busses, so I figured I'd just walk a little bit. My impatient walking turned into almost 4 miles. I still ended up taking two busses, and I was gonna be late. I was starting to relax because I was getting close, but as the bus was turning, we all heard a SCRAAAAPE!! Ah darn, you know what that means... The little pickup that was also turning had scraped the inside edge of the bus. So, after the yelling, insulting, and information swapping, we moved on. I arrived about an hour late and saw the band play to songs, then they were done. I was disappointed until they told me that they had only played four songs.
Then yesterday, I was going to play basketball and was faced with the same situation. Well, I decided to take two busses, but I ended up walking the wrong direction while switching busses. Oh, and did I mention that it was pouring down rain? After a few more direction changes and frustration. So, by the time I got to the place, they were almost done playing. On top of that the lady at the front desk said that that wasn't the right place, so I wandered around in the rain, asking until I finally was directed back to where I went first. So, I got to play basketball for 20 minutes instead of for an hour and a half...
There are times that I think to myself, "I hate this city..." But, that's not true. What I hate is trying to find my way to unknown places. The streets here don't run north and south, and I often don't know which direction I'm walking. But, all's well that ends.
I don't often get lost, but I do have trouble getting from point A to point B...
Last Thursday, I was going to a concert at the Christian Book Fair. My friend's band Remake was playing. I couldn't decide how I was going to get there. I didn't want to take two busses, so I figured I'd just walk a little bit. My impatient walking turned into almost 4 miles. I still ended up taking two busses, and I was gonna be late. I was starting to relax because I was getting close, but as the bus was turning, we all heard a SCRAAAAPE!! Ah darn, you know what that means... The little pickup that was also turning had scraped the inside edge of the bus. So, after the yelling, insulting, and information swapping, we moved on. I arrived about an hour late and saw the band play to songs, then they were done. I was disappointed until they told me that they had only played four songs.
Then yesterday, I was going to play basketball and was faced with the same situation. Well, I decided to take two busses, but I ended up walking the wrong direction while switching busses. Oh, and did I mention that it was pouring down rain? After a few more direction changes and frustration. So, by the time I got to the place, they were almost done playing. On top of that the lady at the front desk said that that wasn't the right place, so I wandered around in the rain, asking until I finally was directed back to where I went first. So, I got to play basketball for 20 minutes instead of for an hour and a half...
There are times that I think to myself, "I hate this city..." But, that's not true. What I hate is trying to find my way to unknown places. The streets here don't run north and south, and I often don't know which direction I'm walking. But, all's well that ends.
I don't often get lost, but I do have trouble getting from point A to point B...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
No Draws Allowed
I had a neat opportunity come my way this last weekend. I got to see Brazil play Paraguay last Sunday. I went with my Argentine brother, Pablo and a couple American friends from school.
Now, let me explain the significance of this soccer game. This was a quarter final game between Brazil and Paraguay in the Copa America. So, this game could not end in a tie. Someone had to win to advance. It was bound to be great!
As you probably know, Brazil is known for its soccer team. They were definitely the favorite. We were behind Paraguay's goal (for the first half), and we gave up our seats for standing room closer to the field. Brazil started somewhat strong with a few early shots on goal. But, they couldn't seem to put one in. The first half was mostly Brazil, and it wasn't until the second half that we saw a little bit of offense from Paraguay. Overall Brazil controlled the first 90 minutes, and the score was 0-0. They had several shots on goal, but he keeper controlled them pretty well.
The crowd was pretty good. The venue holds about 36,000 people, but I don't think that the stadium was quite full. But, 30,000 people yelling all sorts of crazyness is still pretty impressive. It's a nice stadium that was just completed this year. (It's the only covered soccer arena that's covered) Imagine, 25 people down on the field and almost all 30,000 chanting obscenities at just one. Who would that be? The center referee, of course. I believe that was after he handed out two red cards, one for each team.
So, we went in to overtime. To use Daniel's words "Thirty minutes of free soccer." The biggest difference was the pace. The players were tired, and as the tension mounted, the energy on field dropped. Brazil possessed the ball most of overtime, but at the end of each 15 minute half, when Paraguay was on a fast break toward the goal, the referee called time. And the final score: 0-0.
So, the game would be decided by penalty kicks! The tension in the stadium was incredible. The PKs (penalty kicks) were taken on the opposite side of the field, and we were disappointed. Everyone's yelling as Brazil begins. No one could believe that he kicked it over the top!! The Paraguay fans thought that they had won the game, until Paraguay missed its first PK! Two missed PKs, what is going on?
But it didn't stop there. Brazil went on to miss the second one. Paraguay made the second. The Paraguayans felt a little confident. When the third Brazilian PK was saved by the keeper, I thought that the stadium was going to come down! The third one from Paraguay was good. So if Brazil missed the fourth it was game over...lo and behold, the Brazilian missed. Four missed penalty kicks is unheard of and extremely embarrassing.
Paraguay had played a less than impressive game and come away with the victory! And a ticket to the next round. The MVP went to, of course, the goalie. Brazil didn't show up for the penalty kicks, and that's all that matters, as far as advancing is concerned.
*Photo credits Sophia Chumpitas
 |
| Pablo and the field |
 |
| Me, Sophia, and Daniel |
As you probably know, Brazil is known for its soccer team. They were definitely the favorite. We were behind Paraguay's goal (for the first half), and we gave up our seats for standing room closer to the field. Brazil started somewhat strong with a few early shots on goal. But, they couldn't seem to put one in. The first half was mostly Brazil, and it wasn't until the second half that we saw a little bit of offense from Paraguay. Overall Brazil controlled the first 90 minutes, and the score was 0-0. They had several shots on goal, but he keeper controlled them pretty well.
 |
| The other end of the field |
So, we went in to overtime. To use Daniel's words "Thirty minutes of free soccer." The biggest difference was the pace. The players were tired, and as the tension mounted, the energy on field dropped. Brazil possessed the ball most of overtime, but at the end of each 15 minute half, when Paraguay was on a fast break toward the goal, the referee called time. And the final score: 0-0.
So, the game would be decided by penalty kicks! The tension in the stadium was incredible. The PKs (penalty kicks) were taken on the opposite side of the field, and we were disappointed. Everyone's yelling as Brazil begins. No one could believe that he kicked it over the top!! The Paraguay fans thought that they had won the game, until Paraguay missed its first PK! Two missed PKs, what is going on?
 |
| Estadio Único |
Paraguay had played a less than impressive game and come away with the victory! And a ticket to the next round. The MVP went to, of course, the goalie. Brazil didn't show up for the penalty kicks, and that's all that matters, as far as advancing is concerned.
*Photo credits Sophia Chumpitas
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Power of Being Bilingual
I had a small epiphany yesterday. Foreigners are held in a somewhat special light when it comes to language. They are almost revered for their knowledge of their heart language, especially when they speak English. People want to hear the other language, just to know it sounds like. Then, they want to know how to say certain phrases in that other language.
This is where the power comes in. The bilingual person suddenly holds in his hands the control of what another person says and communicates. I have friends that have been told to say some pretty interesting things in Spanish. For example, a friend once told another friend that in Spanish the word for "gay" was the word for "American." He proceeded to go around telling people that he was gay...
Translators can be pretty powerful. They can change the meaning of a diplomat's speech or the message of a missionary. There is a large amount of responsibility in the changing of languages. I don't know how many of you are bilingual, but if you've ever had to translate something on the spot, there is an incredible amount of pressure on you, especially when it's in public. Part of that pressure comes from the responsibility that is on you to communicate correctly.
This is where the power comes in. The bilingual person suddenly holds in his hands the control of what another person says and communicates. I have friends that have been told to say some pretty interesting things in Spanish. For example, a friend once told another friend that in Spanish the word for "gay" was the word for "American." He proceeded to go around telling people that he was gay...
Translators can be pretty powerful. They can change the meaning of a diplomat's speech or the message of a missionary. There is a large amount of responsibility in the changing of languages. I don't know how many of you are bilingual, but if you've ever had to translate something on the spot, there is an incredible amount of pressure on you, especially when it's in public. Part of that pressure comes from the responsibility that is on you to communicate correctly.
Power vs. Responsibility, don't make me quote Spiderman.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Competition Withdraw
I didn't play soccer on Tuesday, and I can feel it in my bones. Granted, my knee tells me that I did play soccer...(maybe that was the walking around for an hour...)
But deep down, I have this urge to fight and compete. I watched soccer last night, but that didn't cut it. I'm about ready to find some computer game to fight against. Something that I can challenge. Not that I don't do challenging things. I'm working on learning to play the guitar, and that's not easy. But, I can't win. You can't really "win" at guitar. Well, some people have. I would say that Van Halen "won" at guitar.
But I digress. The point is competition. I watched Argentina play a miserable soccer game last night, and that didn't take the place of my yearning to compete. At Grace, I had all sorts of outlets to compete in: intramurals sports, Halo, Settles, or miscellaneous pick-up games of anything. So, I feel the need to beat someone at something... Any volunteers to get pummeled?
So the gist of this string of rambles: I think that organized sports help to keep wars at bay. I mean, think about back in the day before soccer, basketball, or the olympic games. When a guy had the urge to destroy somebody, well, "There's the neighboring city-state. Knock yourself out, buddy." Think about 2 Samuel 11:1, "Then it happened in the spring, at the time when kings go out to battle..." That sounds like hunting season to me! Then, rest of the chapter describes David's sin because he wasn't out there at war.
Nowadays, we have professional sports to entertain that competitive nature: Soccer, basketball, football (maybe..) Not to mention getting out there to play these fun games ourselves. My theory is that without these constructive outlets, we'd have a lot more violence in the streets. Well, soccer hear causes violence here in the streets... But there'd be more without it!
But deep down, I have this urge to fight and compete. I watched soccer last night, but that didn't cut it. I'm about ready to find some computer game to fight against. Something that I can challenge. Not that I don't do challenging things. I'm working on learning to play the guitar, and that's not easy. But, I can't win. You can't really "win" at guitar. Well, some people have. I would say that Van Halen "won" at guitar.
But I digress. The point is competition. I watched Argentina play a miserable soccer game last night, and that didn't take the place of my yearning to compete. At Grace, I had all sorts of outlets to compete in: intramurals sports, Halo, Settles, or miscellaneous pick-up games of anything. So, I feel the need to beat someone at something... Any volunteers to get pummeled?
So the gist of this string of rambles: I think that organized sports help to keep wars at bay. I mean, think about back in the day before soccer, basketball, or the olympic games. When a guy had the urge to destroy somebody, well, "There's the neighboring city-state. Knock yourself out, buddy." Think about 2 Samuel 11:1, "Then it happened in the spring, at the time when kings go out to battle..." That sounds like hunting season to me! Then, rest of the chapter describes David's sin because he wasn't out there at war.
Nowadays, we have professional sports to entertain that competitive nature: Soccer, basketball, football (maybe..) Not to mention getting out there to play these fun games ourselves. My theory is that without these constructive outlets, we'd have a lot more violence in the streets. Well, soccer hear causes violence here in the streets... But there'd be more without it!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
"Hay tantos cuentos como lectores"-Borges
Jorge Luis Borges was a famous Argentine author known for his depth of thought. The quote in the title says this, "There are as many stories as there are readers." We talked about this quote in class a little bit, and interestingly enough, it has kind of been the teacher's M.O. when looking at literature.
In just about every Bible class that I've ever taken, the first day is dedicated to the debate of "Who determines the meaning of the text?" Of course the obvious answer is Jesus, as is every answer in every Bible class... We toss around big terms like "author's intent" and always come to the conclusion, that God determines the meaning of Scripture. The students are always warned not to add their own ideas to the Bible (at least in the Bible classes that I've taken).
There are as many stories as there are readers... Borges makes an excellent point. Each person is going to take whatever they perceive from whatever they read. It's rare to see a reader who actually delves to see what the author truly meant. I would hope that Biblical scholars are an exception. Unfortunately, it's difficult not to read into the Word what you have learned/heard previously. Checking your bias at the door is much easier said than done.
What the author says is important, but what do you make of it? Every person can place whatever meaning they want to anything they want. It doesn't necessarily make it the correct interpretation or the intended message. In a literary sense, I'm not very concerned about how literature is interpreted. One's world view plays a large part in that. But as far as the Bible is concerned, I pray like David;
In just about every Bible class that I've ever taken, the first day is dedicated to the debate of "Who determines the meaning of the text?" Of course the obvious answer is Jesus, as is every answer in every Bible class... We toss around big terms like "author's intent" and always come to the conclusion, that God determines the meaning of Scripture. The students are always warned not to add their own ideas to the Bible (at least in the Bible classes that I've taken).
There are as many stories as there are readers... Borges makes an excellent point. Each person is going to take whatever they perceive from whatever they read. It's rare to see a reader who actually delves to see what the author truly meant. I would hope that Biblical scholars are an exception. Unfortunately, it's difficult not to read into the Word what you have learned/heard previously. Checking your bias at the door is much easier said than done.
What the author says is important, but what do you make of it? Every person can place whatever meaning they want to anything they want. It doesn't necessarily make it the correct interpretation or the intended message. In a literary sense, I'm not very concerned about how literature is interpreted. One's world view plays a large part in that. But as far as the Bible is concerned, I pray like David;
17 Deal bountifully with Your servant,
That I may live and keep Your word. 18 Open my eyes, that I may behold
Wonderful things from Your law. 19 I am a stranger in the earth;
Do not hide Your commandments from me.
That I may live and keep Your word. 18 Open my eyes, that I may behold
Wonderful things from Your law. 19 I am a stranger in the earth;
Do not hide Your commandments from me.
Psalm 119:17-9
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Perspective
Over the last week, I have a had a few experiences that have physically changed my perspective.
Scene 1: It's break time at school. Eleven o'clock in the morning and went up to the eleventh floor cafeteria. I was looking out the window to the street. At the time, I wrote these words, "Up in the air, things change. You see different things. Buildings that were tall now seem small. The house hidden behind the trees is now a mansion that must have been a treasure when she was built." The street that I walk on is now one of many, hardly important. But when I walk to school, it's the only street that I can see or care about.
Scene 2: We went to the Teatro Colon on Friday. It's really a beautiful theatre. Built in 1908, it is considered to be among the top five acoustic concert halls in the world, according to Wikipedia. (The pictures there make up for the ones I didn't take). Anyway, we watched an all strings musical group perform from the second floor. Our teacher said that she preferred that level over the ground floor. But, when the show was over, we went up to the fourth balcony (out of 6). Up high, the stage is smaller, and you couldn't see the beautiful painting on the ceiling.
As I was pondering perspective, I began to think about this trip, study abroad, and Grace College. The purpose of trips like this one is to help to form/change student's perspectives on the world. Thus, we are required to take a class called Global Perspectives. Being here has changed my perspective on different things, especially in the realms of church, school, and family. I have been extremely blessed in my life with the churches I have been a part of, the schools I have attended, and the family that I have been given. I needed to have my eyes opened to other situations on the planet. In conclusion, some things you experience change your perspective on life. A changed perspective can alter your character and behavior in many aspects, but it depends on how you look at it.
I realize that this is vague. If you want specifics on how my perspective has changed, just ask and I'll write you a personal message.
Scene 1: It's break time at school. Eleven o'clock in the morning and went up to the eleventh floor cafeteria. I was looking out the window to the street. At the time, I wrote these words, "Up in the air, things change. You see different things. Buildings that were tall now seem small. The house hidden behind the trees is now a mansion that must have been a treasure when she was built." The street that I walk on is now one of many, hardly important. But when I walk to school, it's the only street that I can see or care about.
Scene 2: We went to the Teatro Colon on Friday. It's really a beautiful theatre. Built in 1908, it is considered to be among the top five acoustic concert halls in the world, according to Wikipedia. (The pictures there make up for the ones I didn't take). Anyway, we watched an all strings musical group perform from the second floor. Our teacher said that she preferred that level over the ground floor. But, when the show was over, we went up to the fourth balcony (out of 6). Up high, the stage is smaller, and you couldn't see the beautiful painting on the ceiling.
As I was pondering perspective, I began to think about this trip, study abroad, and Grace College. The purpose of trips like this one is to help to form/change student's perspectives on the world. Thus, we are required to take a class called Global Perspectives. Being here has changed my perspective on different things, especially in the realms of church, school, and family. I have been extremely blessed in my life with the churches I have been a part of, the schools I have attended, and the family that I have been given. I needed to have my eyes opened to other situations on the planet. In conclusion, some things you experience change your perspective on life. A changed perspective can alter your character and behavior in many aspects, but it depends on how you look at it.
I realize that this is vague. If you want specifics on how my perspective has changed, just ask and I'll write you a personal message.
Monday, June 27, 2011
¿Y vos de quién sos?
The title literally means, "And to whom to do you belong?" This is the question that people ask in Argentina in reference your soccer team. In the States we might say, "Who are you a fan of?" or if you English is correct, "Of whom are you a fan?" The biggest difference is that here, soccer is the sport that everybody watches. It's really the only sport in Argentina that anyone cares about.
These are times of a lot of change in soccer, because it's the end of the season: which means that some teams go up to the big leagues and, in turn, some teams go down to lower leagues. When some one asks you what team you belong to, they're asking,"Are you for us or for our enemies?" It's also saying, "Do you root for that losing club that just went down to the lower league?"
That's just a part of Argentine culture. In light of this, I was joking with some friends saying, "Well, I'm a fan of Christ" and "I belong to Jesus." That got me to thinking: do we treat our faith like we do our sports? A chapel speaker at Grace last year told us to cheer when some people gave their lives to the Lord. He said, "You jump and shout when your team scores a touchdown, let's hear it for these souls that are spending eternity with Christ!" Let me tell you, the exciting cry of "Touchdown!" doesn't really compare to "GOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!! GOL! GOL! GOOOOOOOOOOL!! de Messi" that you hear here.
Let me leave you with a question: When was the last time you cheered for Jesus? When was the last time you went nuts simply because God did something incredible? When did your passion for Christ last compare to the excitement felt when your team won the big game?
Just think about it. And remember, I'm preaching to myself.
These are times of a lot of change in soccer, because it's the end of the season: which means that some teams go up to the big leagues and, in turn, some teams go down to lower leagues. When some one asks you what team you belong to, they're asking,"Are you for us or for our enemies?" It's also saying, "Do you root for that losing club that just went down to the lower league?"
That's just a part of Argentine culture. In light of this, I was joking with some friends saying, "Well, I'm a fan of Christ" and "I belong to Jesus." That got me to thinking: do we treat our faith like we do our sports? A chapel speaker at Grace last year told us to cheer when some people gave their lives to the Lord. He said, "You jump and shout when your team scores a touchdown, let's hear it for these souls that are spending eternity with Christ!" Let me tell you, the exciting cry of "Touchdown!" doesn't really compare to "GOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!! GOL! GOL! GOOOOOOOOOOL!! de Messi" that you hear here.
Let me leave you with a question: When was the last time you cheered for Jesus? When was the last time you went nuts simply because God did something incredible? When did your passion for Christ last compare to the excitement felt when your team won the big game?
Just think about it. And remember, I'm preaching to myself.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Pain
So Monday and Tuesday I played soccer for the first time in about 6 weeks. It was also the first time I had done any running since I got to Argentina. Needless to say, I have been sore the past few days. Once again, I began to think: Do I regret playing soccer because of this pain? I also think of my knee that has been hurting for a while. So I ask myself, "Self, do you regret that game of ultimate at the beginning of May? You could've been writing that paper..."
As of right now, I don't regret that game of ultimate frisbee. It was great to spend time with my friends that I won't see for a long time, and some of them, I may never see again. In addition, I wrote the paper later.
Before you start attacking me with "Well when you get to be my age" and the like, let me make a spiritual application. Do you feel pain because of decisions you made for Christ? Does that haunting feeling ever creep up on you saying "If you had just fudged those numbers, you wouldn't be hurting right now"? This is the crux of what I'm saying: Christ may ask you to do things that hurt, maybe hurt permanently on this planet.
I recently finished a book by Elisabeth Elliot. Her husband Jim and his missionary friends paid the ultimate price in order to spread the Gospel. As a result, Elisabeth has faced incredible pain; pain that doesn't just "go away" like the burn of lactic acid. She says this "We cannot know Christ and the power of His resurrection without the fellowship of His suffering."
In conclusion, your pain may last. I will not deny that fact. Remember that Christ does not only have a reason for it, but He's going to get the glory for it.
As of right now, I don't regret that game of ultimate frisbee. It was great to spend time with my friends that I won't see for a long time, and some of them, I may never see again. In addition, I wrote the paper later.
Before you start attacking me with "Well when you get to be my age" and the like, let me make a spiritual application. Do you feel pain because of decisions you made for Christ? Does that haunting feeling ever creep up on you saying "If you had just fudged those numbers, you wouldn't be hurting right now"? This is the crux of what I'm saying: Christ may ask you to do things that hurt, maybe hurt permanently on this planet.
I recently finished a book by Elisabeth Elliot. Her husband Jim and his missionary friends paid the ultimate price in order to spread the Gospel. As a result, Elisabeth has faced incredible pain; pain that doesn't just "go away" like the burn of lactic acid. She says this "We cannot know Christ and the power of His resurrection without the fellowship of His suffering."
In conclusion, your pain may last. I will not deny that fact. Remember that Christ does not only have a reason for it, but He's going to get the glory for it.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Human Nature vs Christianity
As I was riding in the car today with Pablo, we were listening to loud church music and singing at the top of our lungs. While we were singing, I was thinking about the words of the song, "You are the King, You are the King, You are the King of my life..." I thought, "Man, that's weird, the average human doesn't rejoice in being a subject of a King. (The only exception would be that the king is a really great king.)" Another song talked about God's faithfulness. Again I thought to myself, "Do we live like we believe what we sing? If say these words to God and mean them, then why do I live differently?"
So, in a way, I'm just asking the question: Do you believe what you sing in church? It's not hard to mean what you're singing, when you sing it. But things get complicated when your out in the real world.
So, in a way, I'm just asking the question: Do you believe what you sing in church? It's not hard to mean what you're singing, when you sing it. But things get complicated when your out in the real world.
Here are the lyrics to song we sang in church yesterday:
You don't have to look for anyone else, I want to go
Here is my time, here are my hours,
Here am I
My life is yours and I want to invest it in you
Here are my hands, here is my voice,
Here am I
For you Spanish speakers, it's called "Aquí Estoy Yo" by Jesús Adrian Romero.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Patience is a Virtue
I don't often hyperventilate, but I definitely got close today. And started off such a good day. The bus that I got on went quickly through the city til I got to the subway. I was pleased with how fast it had gotten there.
I got through the ticket line with ease and then descended down to the train. The line of people waiting for the subway was enormous. But when the first one came, I decided to get on... Mistake? probably.
The subway was full from the beginning. However, it proceeded to get more and more full as we went on. People were pushing me and everyone else to get on. I was slightly surprised and eventually, slightly annoyed. The act of moving me was really squishing some other people. So, I just pushed back. What now? Two (or 100 really) can play at that game!
Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst of it. At one stop, the subway did more that stop, it stayed! So there I was, stuck in a sea of people. That did bother me so much, but what really bothered me was that I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and my jacket. I was starting to get really, really hot. [insert hyperventilation]. Nervousness set it, and my body continued to cook. I had to force myself to calm down and to breathe. And, within a few moments, the train pulled away from it's little underground station. I was safe.
I got through the ticket line with ease and then descended down to the train. The line of people waiting for the subway was enormous. But when the first one came, I decided to get on... Mistake? probably.
The subway was full from the beginning. However, it proceeded to get more and more full as we went on. People were pushing me and everyone else to get on. I was slightly surprised and eventually, slightly annoyed. The act of moving me was really squishing some other people. So, I just pushed back. What now? Two (or 100 really) can play at that game!
Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst of it. At one stop, the subway did more that stop, it stayed! So there I was, stuck in a sea of people. That did bother me so much, but what really bothered me was that I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and my jacket. I was starting to get really, really hot. [insert hyperventilation]. Nervousness set it, and my body continued to cook. I had to force myself to calm down and to breathe. And, within a few moments, the train pulled away from it's little underground station. I was safe.
Monday, June 13, 2011
And you thought that Taco Bell invented fourthmeal
Here in Argentina, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all valid meals that are often eaten, in fact daily. Granted, the timing of these meals may differ a little from the States, but they are pretty similar.
Here's the difference: lunch is a little later in Argentina: about 1 o'clock or so. Then, dinner isn't until 10:30, or later, depending on the day.
So, your first reaction is probably, "10:30!? that's really late!" But your second reaction should be, especially if your a teenager, "That's a long time between 1 and 10!!"
That is why we have "merienda" or "leche." It is a snack somewhere in the vicinity of 5:00, but that's as subjective as you want it to be. It consists of coffee, tea, or maté (typical Argentine bitter tea drink) usually with milk and some type of bread or crackers, snack-type stuff. Of course, I can't speak for everyone in Argentina, but this is the way we do it at our house.
Here's the difference: lunch is a little later in Argentina: about 1 o'clock or so. Then, dinner isn't until 10:30, or later, depending on the day.
So, your first reaction is probably, "10:30!? that's really late!" But your second reaction should be, especially if your a teenager, "That's a long time between 1 and 10!!"
That is why we have "merienda" or "leche." It is a snack somewhere in the vicinity of 5:00, but that's as subjective as you want it to be. It consists of coffee, tea, or maté (typical Argentine bitter tea drink) usually with milk and some type of bread or crackers, snack-type stuff. Of course, I can't speak for everyone in Argentina, but this is the way we do it at our house.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Mother Tounge
So, the youth pastor of the church here gave me the book that the leaders are reading. It's called Como Multiplicar to Ministerio by Jonathan Mckee. It's very interesting because the book was obviously written in English and then translated. There are many times when I look at the he phrased an expression, and it makes perfect sense to me. Why? because I know that he said in English, and in my opinion, it did not translate well. Which makes me think, "Man, how much are the Argentines missing when they read this book?" Maybe not much, but I don't know. The youth pastor is American, and I assume he gets most of the expressions.
I see the same thing in translated movies. So today, when we watched an Argentine movie in class, it was refreshing to hear what the author wrote in the script (minus the bad language.) I get tired of poor translations that don't quite convey the exact message. On the other hand, sometimes Spanish can be more exact. Which in turn can specify the English vagueness, which is sometimes intentional.
So I said to myself, "I know what he is saying because I know the original language" That got me thinking, as many things do: This is my motivation for wanting to learn the Biblical languages. I want to learn about the Biblical authors were saying, not our English versions that sometimes don't quite, to use the words of Cynthia Verga, "hit the nail on the dot."
I see the same thing in translated movies. So today, when we watched an Argentine movie in class, it was refreshing to hear what the author wrote in the script (minus the bad language.) I get tired of poor translations that don't quite convey the exact message. On the other hand, sometimes Spanish can be more exact. Which in turn can specify the English vagueness, which is sometimes intentional.
So I said to myself, "I know what he is saying because I know the original language" That got me thinking, as many things do: This is my motivation for wanting to learn the Biblical languages. I want to learn about the Biblical authors were saying, not our English versions that sometimes don't quite, to use the words of Cynthia Verga, "hit the nail on the dot."
Thursday, June 9, 2011
I Hate Waiting.
I found out where I could get a reloadable card for the subway and most busses: at the post office of all places. I stopped by during my break time, but the line was huge. So, I figured that I would just stop by after school and get in line. I got a number from the dispenser, like at the old fashion deli. "53" Well, the digital board says "37," that's a good sigh. But some quick mental math told me that there were more than 15 people in this little building... Oh o... I saw someone try to go up, but didn't understand why he was rejected. It became very clear 53 was called and I went up. She told me that my number was pink and the others were green... That meant that I had to wait til 100 more numbers were called!!
At this point in my life, I began to wonder if it was worth my time to stand here and wait. (All the seats were taken). I proceeded to read my book and casually explain to confused people why their number was lower than the one on the board. Finally after 2 long hours of waiting, my real number was called and walked up the first window.
After I explained what I wanted, the lady behind class asked if I had my document. Document?! "Which document?" I ask. Assuming I'm a foreigner, she says "Your passport, or a photocopy of it." My heart sunk. I couldn't just run and get it, cause home is an 1 1/2 hours away. I left in a rush of combined fury and disappointment.
I the most crowded ride home I've ever had and reached home exhausted. After I explained myself to my host parents I was chided for A) Not asking for help and B) not having at least photocopies of my passport on me. Oh well, C'est la vie.
At this point in my life, I began to wonder if it was worth my time to stand here and wait. (All the seats were taken). I proceeded to read my book and casually explain to confused people why their number was lower than the one on the board. Finally after 2 long hours of waiting, my real number was called and walked up the first window.
After I explained what I wanted, the lady behind class asked if I had my document. Document?! "Which document?" I ask. Assuming I'm a foreigner, she says "Your passport, or a photocopy of it." My heart sunk. I couldn't just run and get it, cause home is an 1 1/2 hours away. I left in a rush of combined fury and disappointment.
I the most crowded ride home I've ever had and reached home exhausted. After I explained myself to my host parents I was chided for A) Not asking for help and B) not having at least photocopies of my passport on me. Oh well, C'est la vie.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread
Matthew 6:11 "Give us this day our daily bread."
This is a part of the Lord's Prayer that never really meant a whole lot to me. I'm thinking daily bread=daily food, right? So basically, "Lord, please feed me today."
My family here uses the "Our Daily Bread" devotional booklets. I saw them and said, "Neat," and thought nothing more of it. But the cultural significance is a little deeper in Argentina than in the States.
However, here, we don't buy loaves of bread like in the States. Someone has to go the store, everyday, to buy fresh bread. Because, yesterday's bread is not very good, but it's eatable. The day before yesterday's bread is stale and hard. It's no good.
So, how does that relate to Jesus's "daily bread"? Good question. We need fresh spiritual food everyday. It isn't going to be in the cupboard.
I'll leave you with one more question: Have you been to the spiritual bread store today?
Saturday, June 4, 2011
"We're Not in Kansas Anymore Toto..."
Argentina is not Mexico. Fact. In many ways Argentina is like Mexico. But there have been some surprises thus far. This list is not extensive, but I wanted to have a lead-up to #1.
Surprise #3
On the busses around the city, you have to pay with coins. There is a machine into which one puts their bus fare. (You can use a reloadable card too.) But the driver doesn't take the money like in Mexico.
Surprise #2
Vocab. Obviously, word usage is different here than Mexico. Of course, there are everyday terms that differ, but the family was discussing a word that they heard on TV, and I was kind of startled. When they asked me if I knew what it meant, I was like, "Well, it's a swear word in Mexico..." Pablo informed me later of some words that are not offensive in Argentina that I would not have said in Mexico.
Surprise #1
I am familiar and comfortable with the greeting of a "kiss" on the cheek. Girls to girls, guys to girls, nothing out of the ordinary, until guys kiss guys. That really threw me for a loop. Mostly because I wasn't expecting it, but still... I have come to realize that when men extend their right hand, it's not for a handshake; they're reaching for your shoulder. Then, you get greeted. After a little more than a week, I'm almost used to it.
Surprise #3
On the busses around the city, you have to pay with coins. There is a machine into which one puts their bus fare. (You can use a reloadable card too.) But the driver doesn't take the money like in Mexico.
Surprise #2
Vocab. Obviously, word usage is different here than Mexico. Of course, there are everyday terms that differ, but the family was discussing a word that they heard on TV, and I was kind of startled. When they asked me if I knew what it meant, I was like, "Well, it's a swear word in Mexico..." Pablo informed me later of some words that are not offensive in Argentina that I would not have said in Mexico.
Surprise #1
I am familiar and comfortable with the greeting of a "kiss" on the cheek. Girls to girls, guys to girls, nothing out of the ordinary, until guys kiss guys. That really threw me for a loop. Mostly because I wasn't expecting it, but still... I have come to realize that when men extend their right hand, it's not for a handshake; they're reaching for your shoulder. Then, you get greeted. After a little more than a week, I'm almost used to it.
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