¿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.

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.   

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.

  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. 

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. 

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. 

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 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. 

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? 

"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.

The Price of Tea in China...

As promised, I will talk about food.  My host mom here is an excellent cook, and I have had the privilege of eating whatever she makes everyday.
  However, this story is about buying food downtown.  At lunch time yesterday I thought to myself, "Self, you should go get a coke and sandwich somewhere."  And that I did.  I got a little Coke like I was accustomed to drinking in Mexico.  It was in a glass bottle, and I was very excited to drink it.  When the the guy at the store told me that I costs $3.50 ($.85 USD), I almost croaked.   You say, "Will, 85 cents, really? Why are you complaining?"
I say, "I Mexico, that little bottle of Coke cost me less than 50 cents!" (Actually 3.5 Mexican pesos). I just assumed that this guy way taking advantage of me because I was a foreigner.
   Then I went to a different store to get a ham sandwich, this cost 9 pesos!! I was blown away.  Almost 2 dollars for that little sandwich!  Needless to say, I ate my lunch and was kind of upset.  I hate getting ripped off! I just paid the same number of Argentine pesos what this was worth in Mexican pesos!  2.5 times what it's worth!
   Later that night, I asked my host parents about these ridiculous prices.  They proceeded to tell me that I hadn't been ripped off, and that those prices were normal.  I was shocked. I forgot that Mexico drinks more pop per capita than any other country...

This little Coke is only 237 mml (half a pint).