Many people don't know why I chose Venezuela as the destination of where I wanted to serve. Part of this is because I didn't even know why. When I was finishing my last year in college, I had already heard many stories from my roommate who had gone on two summer projects to Maracaibo. It was really everything I had dreamed of for the type of ministry I wanted to be a part of. And there was just something about the people that drew my heart to them in a way that I've never felt before. Before I had even made my last and final decision to join the Maracaibo STINT team I had already downloaded Whatsapp (International texting app), made several new Maracuchan friends, and was chatting with them via social media on a weekly basis.
They didn't know this, but I loved them.
The First Three Months - To Experience the Bad
It's a little ironic to think about it, but the most awful times of my life have been while I've been serving in ministry in some sort or fashion. Yet I'd trade those times in ministry for nothing. God has revealed and spoken more into my life in those times of pain/fear/suffering while serving Him than any other. However, I will say this: how I come out after these trials has always been dependent on my response and Venezuela had made testament to this.
My stomach has always been one to give me problems, but I guess I should give it the benefit of the doubt here. Almost everybody who spends significant time in a foreign culture, especially in Latin America, will probably deal with stomach issues at one point or another.
One day I stayed home because I had been having random allergic reactions. I had also been getting over a cold, which had just been preceded by a stomach bug, both leaving my body very weakened, so I decided it'd be best not to overexert myself. You know you've been having bad luck with stomach issues when everyone you know asks you for two months straight how your stomach is doing.
That night we went out to celebrate the birthday of the wife of one of our pastors. I got a meatball sandwich. Later that night, as we were waiting for our taxis, I couldn't stop sneezing. I walked outside to wait, but more importantly, to sneeze my life away. It was quite weird. I literally couldn't function like a normal person. The parking guy was staring at me like I was a crazy person. I felt like a crazy person.
Later that night (close to 11PM) I went into the kitchen - still sneezing like a maniac - until one of my sneezes was not a sneeze but a projectile vomit into the sink. The sandwich I ate during dinner had been generous enough to give me food poisoning. Everyone had gone to bed already while I was still awake passing between the bathroom, the kitchen and living room couch. I can safely say that I've never had a more painful experience with food poisoning. By 4AM I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and pain that I just laid there. I couldn't tell if tears were filling my eyes because of the intense pain in my stomach or the fact that I couldn't catch a break from physical ailments.
It was actually significantly more painful to lay down, but I was so tired I didn't care. I remember thinking and asking the Lord, "What is the purpose of me even being here. I haven't felt healthy at all since the first month I was here. I can't be fully here for the students. I don't speak their language and I don't even have much experience in ministry to help alleviate for the former."
It'd have been cool to say that God slapped me with a painful backhand, but He didn't. About an hour before everyone else was awakening to start their day, my stomach cleared what was left in it and I finally fell asleep. I later found out that I had lost 15 lbs since becoming sick. I didn't know I even had 15 lbs to lose.
My body recovered very slowly over the next month, and I never got any stomach sickness since that point. I should have been thankful and happy, but instead I was bitter. Most of the time it was pretty concealed. I went about ministry as usual, doing the work that was set out before me, but in my heart reconciling that any and all bitterness was due to other factors... The heat that makes you sweat the second you step outside, or the lack of basic goods. I compiled lists in my mind of all the things in Venezuela that were making me not want to come back for a second year.
My First Return - To Be Honest
Every 90 days we are required to renew our VISA's by leaving the country and coming back. The team from Valencia was with us as well as we traveled to Aruba to stay for a few days. Going to Aruba had been a much needed break especially for allowing my body to recuperate. Never did I expect that we would be denied entrance into the country. After many hours of waiting in one part of the airport we were moved back behind customs to an area that was lightly furnished and heavily AC'ed
I used some of my dirty laundry, towels and a girl sweater keep warm. When we woke the next morning to await our next move, I thought to myself, just maybe we will return to the US for the winter break.
There's a reason why STINTers don't normally return at any point during their time abroad. It can make going back to their assignment that much harder as they readjust and settle back home.
For myself, it was exactly what I needed, but at the time I didn't know. It was true the part about resettling into your home - It's very hard to leave such comfort knowing what you're returning to. However, with the comfort came the most unrest that I've felt in a long time. I became extremely moody and isolated. I didn't want anyone to ask me about Venezuela, and I spent my time avoiding people and conversations.
Even up until the point that I was departing for Venezuela, I was struggling to come to terms with everything. But something I had heard about previously during my break triggered in me a renewal of heart.
A Good Reminder - To Love a Country
I decided to attend the winter conference during break in DC called Radiate. Every time that I went as a student, it challenged me in ways that have really changed my life. It is a huge reason why I chose to do STINT. Being there brought back good memories and seeing Pitt students again was great. The speakers were phenomenal each night.
One guy in particular, Matt Mikalatos, spoke during one of the main sessions. He was the speaker during the whole week of a CRU spring break trip to Panama City Beach the year I went, so I knew his style of speaking and enjoyed it. During his talks in PCB he was typically very funny, but always pointed back to Christ. I don't remember a time that he ever spoke about anything upsetting.
At Radiate, he spoke about his time in East Asia doing missions for a few years. I could tell it had been an important chapter in his life. The story ended with him being evacuated from the country very abruptly. No chance to say sufficient goodbyes. No ability to leave on his own terms. No closure. As he recounted some final moments with students to whom he had to leave suddenly, he took a moment to collect himself. Without a doubt I knew it had to have been an extremely hard situation, especially if it pained him to this day.
I returned to Maracaibo several days later, knowing that I needed a heart change. I can't say what all factored into this process or change, but I can say that it happened. And it happened quickly.
I cherished the friends and students I had much more. My attitude towards being there was significantly more positive, as I began to love not just the people, but the country as well. Most importantly, I was pursuing the Lord again. I could see as my walk with Him became more intimate, my outlook on life in Maracaibo became less of a burden and more of a treasure.
And, I finally felt at home
Enter Chaos - To Regress a Little
For the next month I felt a spiritual high that I had been longing for since first departing to Venezuela. I've learned by now that they typically don't last more than a couple months for me.
News of student protesting in other cities had reached us, but it seemed very business as usual. Non-violent protests here were a common thing. February 12th came along and schools closed down except for IUTM - the school I was going to that day. We were having our first Tiempo Libre for the students. We returned later that day to discover that the campuses were going to be closed again. Things would only continue to get worse for the country at that point. The inflation rate would continue to grow worse, basic goods would become less common, streets would be blocked and nights would get increasingly dangerous.
We were told for our own safety to stay inside for the most part, but things had not reached our city to the degree they were happening in other cities. We could easily walk out in the daylight to buy fruits and vegetables from the local street vendors. Often, it was all we could really do anyway, since everything else was closed, blocked off, or too far to walk to.
Picture a panic room, but instead of a room, it's a house. It may be a little over-exaggerated as an illustration but it's exactly how I felt. We weren't necessarily in direct danger, for the most part, but you didn't leave the house unless you had to. And for the most part we didn't have to.
I spent much of my free time those days updating myself via twitter and online videos (Sadly, with the restrictions and barriers on media, these were the only sources where I could find what was happening) on the violent protest occurring in other cities. People wounded or dying, streets on fire, outcries from students on social media. Many nights I listened to the banging of pots outside representing the call to vocal arms of the opposition. It was extremely hard to focus, when the responsibilities I once had had were put to the side. No matter how much time I spent occupying myself doing other things, it could never leave my mind what was happening all around me. People were angry at the injustices and situation of their country, and I wanted to stand beside them and be angry with them.
Sleep was becoming harder and harder. Plans and events that were scheduled were cancelled one by one, as students were either busy protesting or it was too dangerous for them to come. Day after day, we discussed hypotheticals, crafted plans, and sought out ways to occupy our time. I can imagine that if this situation progressed for very long, I would have been a crazy person. I could very well be one right now and just not know it. But one thing I am sure of is that the spiritual rush I had coming back to Venezuela had left me and I became very restless. As I lay there many nights, I began to set up hypothetical situations in my mind of what I'd do if angry anti-Americans came storming through our house. It wasn't too wild of thinking considering what had happened during the first week of protests...
I had been on Skype with my mom to give an update about our situation. Our whole team was at the house after a meeting, and a few friends of ours were hanging out enjoying the afternoon. I would have been completely confused by the sound of crashing glass and sudden panic within the room, had what occurred last week not have happened. Some kid/guy attempted to throw a rock into Christian's bedroom window while he was the only person home. This time it worked. Immediately, everyone started yelling and running towards the street. I ran outside the house where I saw Christian, Nate, and one of Christian's friends pursuing the person. I ran with them. Many neighbors and young students were outside trying to direct us to the assailant. We never actually saw him but we still chased, following the directions shouted by witnesses. As I rushed through the streets everything felt so unreal, but at the same time, more real than it ever had. I can't really explain it, so I'm not going to even attempt.
At one point I stopped and started walking back. I ignored the fact that I was alone. That I had just left my mother on Skype to wait, unsure of what was going on. I'm going crazy I thought to myself. What was I going to do if we caught him? Why did I think I could catch him while running with flip flops and never actually seeing him. I knew why i was running though. I was angry. Very angry. Not just at the kid who threw the brick/rock through our window, but at everything. I wanted there to be justice and it wasn't there. I wanted personal justice for the guy who broke our window, knowing full well it was not just a random act of violence. Knowing the most probable reason was because we were from the US. I wanted justice for scores of innocent Venezuelans harmed or killed during the protesting due to para-military activity. Justice for the brutality towards the citizens from those who were supposed to protect them.
I can attest to the significant difference between keeping up to date with a country's devastation from outside the country and doing so from the inside of that country. It's so much more real. And it's so much more personal.
Final Chapter - To Leave & To Love
It'd be cool to say I got my act together before leaving the country, but sadly that didn't happen until long after returning home. Until very recently, I have struggled greatly to find closure in my heart and be at peace with the Lord about the situation. This is not to say that I am no longer burdened for the country - I am, greatly. Truthfully, my life was completely fine in a material sense when I returned. Yet, I struggled to spend time with the Lord. I didn't want to seek Him in scripture, nor did desire to talk to Him. Instead, I desired what I couldn't have any more.
Thankfully, this story from my time in Venezuela isn't/wasn't/won't ever be about me. Otherwise it would tragic, boring, and depressing. The story, in fact, is about the Lord. And it is not a tragic or boring story, but one of love, hope and joy. This came to me in pieces after I returned to the US.
The First Piece: I received a lot of letters and notes from my Venezuelan friends. Many continued writing me through social media. Through experiencing a long distance relationship while serving in Venezuela I had come to realize the great intentional effort was needed in order to make that type of relationship work. Friendships, although different, have the similar nature of needing a lot of effort through long distances. If the Lord was not working there in those relationships made during our time spent there, leaving the country would have been easy and painless. Students would feel no real desire to keep in contact, to write notes and letters. And I would not desire to be with them as I do right now. It is a bittersweet blessing.
The Second Piece: A good friend of mine and a student in the ministry texted me days after we departed. He had brought a friend to the farewell party. She was only associated with him through school, but he invited to the party and she came. She surprisingly stayed the whole night which was full of worship, dancing, testimonies, sharing, and hard goodbyes. If you can't imagine what a Venezuelan goodbye party is like, just picture a very long extended farewell that plays with your emotions. One moment you're hastily preparing food for anywhere between 30-70 people never really knowing how many people are actually coming. The next moment you're worshiping through song and praying. Then pursues a mix of dancing, laughing and crying. Then you're suddenly rushing out of the door to leave at 2AM and everyone who is left follows you through the 2 hour experience of buying tickets, finally saying their last farewells at the farthest point they can go.
Anyways, my friend told me that his friend talked with him after the party explaining that this was the most fun she has had without alcohol/drugs. It's comforting to know that even until of our time there, students lives are still being impacted by the Lord's work through Vida Estudiantil.
The Third Piece: I was listening to a sermon from Tim Keller about the history of the church in China. Long story short: chaos, oppression, and the departure of American missionaries at one time brought about a huge spark in the church. This could be in store for the future of this country. I'm not necessarily considering the political or economical situation of the country but the spiritual. I am happy to be leaving the country if it means that student leaders within the movement will rise up and take our spots. If it means the church will play a role in restoring the hope that people there have in Christ, and not in the government. If it means that the students and friends I poured into there will realize the true power in relying on the Lord.
From a worldly view, the country can be seen as a tragic mess. I myself continue to struggle not seeing it this way despite the evidence of such. Because among the tragedy, there is a great presence of hope. I want you to know this, because I do not want you to give up on Venezuela. Don't cease your prayers for them.
I have never grown so close to a group of people who I could only share very little with. Our language is different, our interests are different. Our food. Our social norms. Our standards and priorities. But the Lord placed a love in me for them so strongly that none of this mattered. I'm glad it pained me as much as it did when I left them, because it reminded me how much they truly meant to me. It is my hope and prayer that I will one day return to them and see a great work done in each of their lives and in the ministry. There will always be a special place in my heart for Venezuela.
