Pentecost XVI - Chris King

A Journey in Faith

I want to begin by extending my sincere gratitude to the community of Christ Church and Rev. Windsor for inviting me to share fellowship with you today. It is my hope that these few words will provide an insight into what one young and searching Christian has found through direct confrontation with suffering and need and in the call of Christ to serve the poor.

The spiritual understanding of pilgrimage necessarily entails a desire to seek Christ in a more intimate and profound way. Long, arduous journeys were made by Jesus’ disciples to spread the Good News of joy and salvation to all of humanity. These paths were wrought with struggle, rejection, and persecution. Yet, these humble servants forged on in hopes of reaching the hearts of God’s children and thereby change lives. Many years later, the sacrifice and devotion of the apostles to their mission serves as a foundation in the Christian tradition upon which we too can be vessels for God’s enduring and transformational love.

Another component of pilgrimage, often, is the going away, leaving behind the security and comfort of one’s own home and embracing the unexpected and sometimes terrifying world that one may wish to avoid. What must Simon Peter and Andrew have felt when they were called to leave everything and follow Jesus? What gave them the courage and strength to answer this call and “immediately” drop their nets to follow a man who was seemingly a stranger to them?

For many years, I have wrestled with this question and the notion of responding to Christ’s call to serve his people. As Christians, we yearn to know God’s perfect love and rejoice in the beauty of the world he has given to us. We want to walk with Christ and feel his nurturing embrace when we succeed, but especially when we fail. We may pray for his presence to be manifest in our lives, but this desire requires a great leap of faith and surrender to his will. And many times, God’s will calls us to places that are unfamiliar and challenging.

It was such a calling that led me to the children at Amistad Mission in Bolivia, where I have lived two of the past four years. As a young adult, I wanted to see and embrace the face of Christ in the disenfranchised and suffering and feel our unity through him. What I found while I was in Bolivia proved to be much deeper than I could have imagined. To put this journey into perspective, Bolivia is the poorest country in South America, where much of the population survives on less than $2 a day. Nearly half of the population is under the age of 18, and it is these impoverished conditions that lead many families to abandon their children to overcrowded state-run orphanages, where three or four babies share a single crib.

Amistad Mission provides an alternative to these orphanages through a loving Christian home, called La Villa, to over 70 abused, abandoned, and orphaned children, divided among eight houses with a mamá and tía as primary caretakers. La Villa provides support for the medical, spiritual, educational, and emotional needs of these children to confront and overcome their traumatic past. From the time that I arrived in 2006, I was overwhelmed by the joyful smiles and radiant personalities of the children who greeted each staff member, visitor, and caretaker every morning. Their beautiful brown eyes met you with the deepest sincerity, holding onto the present moment and giving you their undivided attention. I worked with the children to teach reading and English classes and helped to develop a microenterprise with the existing bakery. Walking into La Villa each morning, my heart would race with excitement to see the children and greet them with a “Buen Día” and big hug. How majestic was God’s grace in the lives of these precious ones!

My time with the children of La Villa continued in delight and shared merriment for several months. However, on Dec. 21, 2006, a most unexpected turn occurred while I was sitting alone at night in the office building, following our annual Christmas celebration. It was a night that would change my life forever.

Two women from the child placement agency came to the office door and desperately explained they needed shelter for six brothers who had been living on the streets for the past two weeks while their mother was dying of cancer in a local hospital. The women had visited many orphanages throughout the day, but not one could accommodate all six brothers. I called three of the mamas to come speak with these women. Upon hearing the boys’ story, one of the mamas said resolutely, “We will make room for the children in our homes.” Shortly thereafter, the boys entered, young children who had endured great suffering and been left with two options: La Villa or the streets. Their tattered clothing, dirty bodies, and empty stares revealed a brokenness that pained the heart. The youngest boy, Ariel, barely two, was barefoot with a bandage trailing behind his torn foot. He limped to the center of the room, apart from his brothers, and slowly looked up at each of us in turn. His body trembled and urine began streaming down his leg, as he wept in silence. Looking into Ariel’s dusty and forlorn eyes was the closest I have ever felt to knowing the presence of the suffering Christ in my life. One of the mamas, Teodora of Casa Copacabana, bent down and wiped the tears from Ariel’s face, saying, “You are with me now. Do not be afraid. You are safe.”

Five years later, that fateful night burns bright in my mind. Ariel, now 6, is one of the happiest children in La Villa, and he tells you each day, “Que te vaya bien en todas partes.” “May things go well for you in all of your life.” Here is a child who was once on the verge of death beaming with well wishes for all who greet him. When I think of “the least of these,” Ariel serves as a reminder of God’s redemptive grace and ability to heal any illness or hardship in our lives. As a community of faith, we are called to join together to support one another’s walk with Christ and proclaim his presence in our neighbors, entering into God’s arms “like a child.”

So I ask, where do you see the face of Christ in your life? Who are the people and what are the moments that fill you with his love and make you stop to give thanks? For some it takes a pilgrimage to a distant land to understand how universal Christ’s presence is to those who are open to receiving him. Others encounter this truth in daily interactions with a close neighbor, family member, or friend. In both instances, we are blessed to see the face of Christ in another, who might be 4,000 miles away or sitting next to you today.

Perhaps the notion of pilgrimage has more to do with the journey of the heart than it does with the physical journey to a far away place. Perhaps if we can release ourselves to join in the glorious dance of Christ’s love, we will find comfort in his arms. But in order to do so, it seems we must open ourselves to being vulnerable, not knowing when or whom God will call us to serve. May we hope to have the strength of Christ’s first apostles to answer this call. AMEN.