Cartago, Costa Rica

We had a language school-wide field trip last Friday, (Feb 22, 08) to Cartago.  If you are like me that name probably initially means nothing.  However to millions of Catholics in Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua and other Central American countries it is a pilgrimage destination during Holy Week.   During Holy Week an average of 1.5 million people make a pilgrimage there as a penanace. When some enter this basilica, they crawl to the altar. Some buy golden body parts from local venders and lay them on the altar as a sacrifical offering in hopes for their healing or someone's healing for which they are intercessing.

My whole class had about 30 minutes to take in the beauty of this basilica.  The architectural class of this building is truly breathetaking. I chose not to "do the tourist thing." So rather, I sat on a pew and took in about 25 minutes.  I was excited to observe this window into Catholicism.  I have had classes, I have Catholic friends now, but it is still in many ways a mystery to me.  Before going in I smugly made a joke to Angela about how I wanted to video someone crawling to the altar.  I am so glad she never gave me the camera.  The picture below I did not take, but rather found it on Google. 

So I was sitting there taking in the relics, arched wood, tiled floor, brass, grandios altar shrowding Mary at the front. I observing locals praying and others intermittenly kneeling.  There was a late morning mass gathering in a side wing.  I felt estranged, unsure, happy, wierded out, and prayerful all at the same time.  And then I heard a noise.

This noise had a particular swooshing sound to it.  I had already made my mind up before going in I would not stare, and especially not "look like a tourist!"  The noise got closer and closer, but it came very slowly.  The suspense was killing me, I was already in the midst of alot of deep-level theological meditations, my senses were on overload, and my pride was keeping me in a nervous holding pattern.

Then from the corner of my left eye I saw something that has caused one of the deepest spiritual grievances in my life.  There on the left side of the aisle was an older gentleman in his 60's-70's holding on to each pew, pants legs rolled up above his knees and he was crawling to the altar on that tile floor.  Then 2 seconds later, my life is now changed forever.  A small, brown, wrinkled, dry-scaled, old latin hand reached up beside me as I was sat on the far left side of that pew.  I canted my head left and down a tad, my heart sped up a few beats as I watched the wife of the gentleman make small, feeble, painful, steps on her knees towards the altar at the front of the cathedral with a blue plastic bag slowly swishing back and forth with each of her painful, slow steps on her knees.

The total length from the door to the altar was about 100 yards.  That length makes for a lot of steps on one's knees.  About a minute later, another gentleman in his 30's came by.  About 5 minutes later another a young lady in her 20's.  Then a grandmother came,  and a few paces behind her was her teenage grandaughter .

I was awestruck.  I was questioning cultural understanding of the propitiation of Christ's work on the cross.  And what about Jesus toting the cross for these 6 folks, thus they needed not to crawl?  I had no answer.  I still am chewing on their interpretation of this cardinal theological aspect of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus the Christ for us.  But I have come to one conclusion, and it just whacked me in the face the other dayon that pew in the city of Cartago.

Watching those pass by me to the altar in this beautiful basilica thoughts flowed in my mind with thunderous, missionary power. I was mentally racing over doctrine, protestant solutions, pneumatological options..when my mind went off of the cliff.  How dare I! I know my job, my calling, my ministry, but how dare I? There in that moment I was totally condeming their practice, thinking I was spiritually superior in my orthodox and orthopraxy; but in reality my sacrifice of prayer does not exist.  For me to admit this could be absolutely detrimental to my future as an AGWM Missionary and maintain as an A/G Ordained Minister.  But before God I adimantly admit to you that I am guilty.  I repent before God for my failure in spiritual responsibilities.  The truth is that the potential for God to work through me as husband and father, muchless as missionary is totally being limited until I kill my casual spirituality and thrust my life before God in prayer, communion, and supplication.  With each step of their knees it was a like a dagger piercing my heart as I realized thta perhaps I, a missionary - and pentecostal at that, was perhaps the weakest "Christian" in the basillica at that moment.

Please do not misinterpret me.  I am not saying we have to bloody up our knees to please God or for Him to hear us - that is heresy.  What I am saying is that in the busyness of our lives, in my life perhaps we have cut off such an amazing powersource in a lifeflow of prayer, communion, and supplication to God if we will simply slow down the pace or sacrifice our time to be with him.  There is a powerful Spanish saying I have learned and putting into practice, especially with my 3 sons: "Hay mas tiempo que vida."  Which literally means there is more time than life.  Yes life is eternal, but our time on this earth is not so live life! I am choosing to live it, spend it, exhaust it with my Lord, my wife and my 3 sons.  I am listening better for the voice of God, both in English and Spanish now.  I urgently plead with you to find the deadspace in your life that you can transform into precious time in the presence of the Lord.  The Father is listening.  Jesus wants you to use His name.  The Holy Spirit is waiting.  His Word is ready to subsidze your whole spirituality with endless uses.  I extend you this invitation, will you embark?