First off: I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to write anything or call for the last two weeks. It’s been a bit crazy around here. Start with a basic DTS. Add to this an additional DTS from Switzerland and another DTS returning from outreach in southern Mexico. Mix all of these with Carnaval: six days of Mardi Gras madness. Sprinkle into this the several dozen other people who came to assist with the festivities. Boil together for a week. Season with the fact that organization is not a virtue of YWAM, and even less of a virtue in Mexico. Garnish with a sore throat and cold. For dessert, follow up with a move to the Tijuana base. It’s a recipe for chaos. At the same time, it has been an incredible two weeks.
It’s hard to know where to begin. Last week was all devoted to preparation for Carnaval. For the uninitiated (like myself), Carnaval is a week-long celebration that happens throughout the world (most notably in Rio di Janeiro and New Orleans) immediately before the beginning of Lent. This year’s Carnaval at Ensenada was “Festival of the Gods,” and was dedicated to the native gods of pleasure, passion, and the sea. Normally, the local churches stay as far away from these things as they can, and the only time you hear about Carnaval in a church setting is in pre-conversion stories. However, this year the church decided to join with YWAM to try and do an outreach. The plan was to have a café outside the YWAM base as a safe, non-alcoholic environment where people could come and get free coffee before or after going to Carnaval. Local churches assisted in staffing and providing the coffee. Since our DTS has been focusing on using the arts in a ministerial capacity, we helped with set-up, clean-up, serving coffee, and entertainment. Those who were involved in dancing performed their dance routine several times. Those who were focusing in music (such as myself) performed on a stage that we had set up by the café.
As I mentioned last time, for me, this was just about as far from a comfortable situation as I can imagine. Previously, my only experience with public performance was either classical recitals or the church musical this Christmas. Our music group had had a total of about three rehearsals before we went on, no sheet music, no organized structure. In addition, learning to communicate and come up with a common vision in a group with different languages, cultures, and musical backgrounds was a bit of a challenge. When we started on Thursday night, we were not very optimistic. Once we started playing, though, it was really exciting. Our set lasted about 40 minutes, and we played twice in the first night. We finally got to bed around two.
That basic pattern continued from last Thursday through this Tuesday: free time until lunch, class in the afternoon, Carnaval preparation, serving, and clean-up until after midnight, bed around two. Wake up, repeat. It was a stretching week. There was very little planning, organization, or communication, so you never knew exactly what you were supposed to be doing or where you were supposed to be. There was no time to rest or recover, and by about Sunday night, I felt about ready to collapse. Further, as always, what few plans we had were quickly undermined by the reality of the situation. Originally, Carnaval was supposed to extend all the way past our base; however, at the last minute, the people in charge decided to cut it off a few blocks earlier, so that our café was actually outside the limits of the festivities. This meant that, while we got a steady stream of visitors entering and leaving with the promise of free coffee, probably the majority of the people there were either visiting YWAM staff or people from the local churches there for moral support. By Tuesday night, we were all tired, frustrated, and thoroughly done with the idea.
Tuesday night, we decided to try something different. After praying and giving the night to God, several of us decided to actually go into the Carnaval itself. I went with about five other people with signs offering to pray for anyone who wanted prayer. Within a few minutes, we had a fairly steady stream of people asking for us to pray with them and for them. Later, the dance group brought some portable speakers and did their dance routine on the side of the street. We attracted a large crowd and were able to have some really great conversations with the people.
Looking back at this past two weeks is a bit of a mixed bag for me. It has been a huge stretch, on one hand. I don’t like late nights. I don’t like loud noise. I don’t like large amounts of people in tight quarters. Further, I have never been comfortable with the type of evangelism that walks up to strangers and, in effect, tells them how they should think. At least, that’s how I perceived it. But, by being pushed past what I was comfortable with, I grew a lot. By coming to the end of my strength, I learned as never before what it means to rely on God’s strength. Further, I think that I now have a different understanding of what evangelism means. What the “Festival of the Gods” put into relief for me is that every living, thinking human being has their gods: those things that determine our lives, our priorities, our values, how we see. Our only freedom is to choose which gods we serve. The gods of Carnaval—literally, the gods of passion and pleasure—promise much, but yield emptiness. One of the stages that we spent some time was dedicated to Mexican karaoke. It was kind of funny—one night, I listened and sang along to about two hours of popular Mexican songs belted out by partygoers. Almost to a song, they expressed the sadness and emptiness of being left behind by love. By our presence, whether dancing, singing, praying, or smiling, we wanted to show that there is another way.
Two quick Carnaval stories. The Swiss team that had come to be with us had prepared a drama. For those of you who haven’t seen it, just type in “Lifehouse Everything Skit” on youtube.com, and you will find numerous examples of it. On Friday night, they decided to take it to Carnaval. Through an almost miraculous set of circumstances, they got the opportunity to perform it on one of the main stages where live bands performed. The “dance” directly before them was a young couple very graphically acting out sex on-stage. The Swiss team was warned before they went on that they could expect to get jeers and beer bottles. I must admit that I was definitely not very strong in the faith or courage department as I watched them go up. I cringed with vicarious embarrassment. But then the music started. The MC tried to make it into a big joke, but the crowd watched in rapt attention. The Swiss team finished, and the crowd cheered. Immediately afterwards, the crowd started dispersing. The MC tried to recover the previous momentum and called for seven women from the crowd to come and dance on-stage, but had trouble getting volunteers. I don’t know what if any impact we had on the people watching. But I believe that at least some were reminded that there is something more than Carnaval and its gods have to offer.
Second story: the first night, in between meetings, I decided to take advantage of the ten free minutes I had and went walking in the street in front of our Ensenada base. I passed by a man who had a small lot which he was using for parking for Carnaval. Business was slow, so I sat down to talk with him for a bit. We wound up chatting for about 45 minutes. He said that his name was Arturo, and he was 50 years old and tired of living. He pursued everything life had to offer and found it empty. He wanted to be rich, but knew that if he was, he would waste him money and kill himself in the process. He had children, but they didn’t love him and didn’t care about him. I may not know much about poverty, or hunger, but I do know a bit about hopelessness, so I was able to talk to him and listen sympathetically. I was able to tell him, however briefly, that I understood how he felt, but I knew that it wasn’t true. I had to go late to my meeting, but he thanked me at the end and said that I had given him a lot to think about. Again, I don’t know what if any eternal impact I’ve had. But I do know that hope is an essential human need, as much as food or water or shelter. If by my presence or words I can show even one person that there is true hope that lasts, then my time here is worth it.
Since I’ve gone on for longer than usual, I’ll try to wrap up quickly. The rest of the week was a blur. I was really tired, and still haven’t really had the opportunity to recover. As a result, I got sick on Friday and have been stuffed up and coughing ever since. Further, yesterday, we moved from the base in Ensenada to the base in Tijuana. It’s a nice change: the base in Tijuana is bigger, newer, with nicer facilities. It is also more removed from the city, which means that we will probably be spending more time together and less time exploring the city. I am anticipating a more relaxed couple of weeks, which will be nice for my personality.