The highway out to the school cuts through the jungle like the Israelites’ path through the red sea. Passing traffic paints the trees a brownish-orange that makes them look dead, but in a growing death that closes in over the road to block out the sun and hinder the passing traffic.
How easy to be like one of those trees, planted just outside of the way, pretending to be dead to the world while underneath the self is all alive. Fortunately, there are other trees I saw, stripped of foliage, standing straight as arrows toward the sky, at the top of each a knot like a fist, from which protrudes a single branch, like a finger pointing to heaven.
Last week we were having a problem with the water system, so I climbed the water tower to look in the tank and watch the water level as Mr. Clint tested the different valves. At the top of the tower he boosted me up onto the tank where I removed the cover and looked down into 5000 liters that rippled behind my reflection, oscillating between concave and convex distortions of myself. And I thought, that same substance sloshes in my heart and head, so how can I avoid such instability? That shifting aqua-map of me is perhaps more accurate in its uncertainties than any glass mirror that shows me clear, steady, and better looking. But the most accurate picture of me is the one that God presents in His Holy Scriptures. I am created in His image and bought with His blood. I am worth the existence of worlds, galaxies, the very life of the Creator who sustains everything. And all of this despite the fact that I am a sinner, a transgressor of the Holy Law with a stone-hard heart and a head that’s thick between the ears, a dirty-dog of a wretch who deserves to die and be lost in the dust of the eternal ages.
But here I am, gracias a Dios. I wish I could share everything with you. A lot has happened in the last week and a half.
All the walls on the girls dorm are up, all 24,000 bricks of them. The construction was well organized, everyone had their appointed duty. The students and the volunteer group from Texas all worked hard, and we did in five days what we had projected would take seven.
As I was mixing mortar for the bricklayers on Tuesday, I heard the crackle of burning foliage and looked behind the dorm to see a large column of smoke rising. Whoever had been assigned to burn trash had let the fire get away from them. Someone shouted to bring water and shovels. The fire was moving away from the dorm and toward our water tower that supplies the entire campus. It had already melted a hole in part of the two-inch main line, right next to an uncovered valve, and water was shooting out in a wasted geyser that was of no help to us, as the fire had already moved on to some thick grass and small trees. I thanked God we weren’t in California as we beat down the fire with our shovels. Ruan brought a hose, and we were able to extinguish the fire right before it reached the water tower.
After work in the evenings, we held a short series of meetings in the nearby village of Yata. One of the volunteers from the group is a young doctor from Mexico, and she preached from the book of Daniel. On Sabbath we had church in the campus chapel. There are several families that come from Yata. Every Sabbath afternoon we go there with the students and go door to door visiting families, singing hymns, and sharing the Word.
The missionary group is gone now, and classes have resumed. My teaching schedule is actually not too heavy, but I am also a work supervisor, pathfinder counselor (for our new club) and half-time boy’s dean. A good share of time also has to be devoted to activities that take a matter of minutes back stateside. For example, after my morning class yesterday, I carried in a couple 20-liter jugs of drinking water from our natural spring about half a kilometer behind the school. Washing laundry in the creek followed, and later I went to help cut lumber in the jungle. Remind me to tell you more about that later. I’ll just say, I thought of David Livingston and other missionary pioneers who hauled their stuff for thousands of kilometers over jungle trails, and I wondered how in the world they ever did it.
I worked with the voice choir for the first time yesterday. Many of them are having trouble matching a pitch, and so I worked with them one at a time at the keyboard, singing along with them until they could match my note. I saw a little progress, which was encouraging. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I think it will be fun. We also talked about proper breathing technique, and I had them practice inhaling and exhaling using their diaphragms.
On Sunday we suffered an unexpected and painful blow. We had to expel four students (two couples) for sneaking out of the dorm and meeting down by the creek. Apparently it wasn’t the first time they’ve done this. Worst of all, two of them were our only 4th year students, leaders in the school who have been here since they were freshmen. (They were the only students left at the school who I knew from last time I was down here.) The whole process took most of Sunday. It has been very difficult for the school, but God is good, and I think everything will turn out to His honor and glory. Please pray for the students who had to leave, that they can learn from the experience and won’t turn their backs on everything they’ve learned.
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