I Repent

Trepidation is about the best word to describe the full extent of my attitude towards my latest adventure. As its approach drew near, I realized I was anything but ready, and the task was no small one. I was one of ten in a small evangelistic team headed for North Africa… and, although I do happen to be a former MK (missionary kid), the Muslim culture is one that I had not experienced until now. I have so much to say… and the trip was so long that it’s divided itself into different sections in my mind. So, without further ado (and from the very start)… the adventure begins.

Day 1: A non-starter
This particular day – July 3rd – a bomb scare closed down London / Heathrow airport, and 108 flights in and out of the place were cancelled. Meaning… ours as well. Right from the start we realized that this was not a trip on our own strength, and if God was going to make things happen, He was going to make sure that we knew – for sure and for certain – that WE weren’t the ones responsible. J So, with our living room a chaos of suitcases and various and sundry different packages – the four occupants of the Paasch household were very still: simply waiting. Living life on hold.

This moment of not-knowing is quite an analogy of my life right now.

If you were to walk into my bedroom right now, you wouldn’t see much. We sold my desk and packed away all its contents months ago now. Ok, 1 ½ months is all it’s been, but for me… it feels like a short eternity. You see, about 6 months ago my parents were seized with this awesome and radical idea to sell everything, box up what little was left, and move down to Tempe, next to the university campus, in order to live life and share the Gospel with students. It was a radical, exciting, very Paasch-esque thing to do, and we were all stoked. We found a place right across from campus, boxed up only the necessaries, sold all the rest, and put our house on the market. Unfortunately, no one bit on our house. So, I’m left with a chest of drawers, some clothing in the closet, a lone loft bed, and a lot of questions.

Life on hold.
~*~
Since writing the last paragraph, I’ve been told that someone – presumably from our party – has re-booked us to fly out of LA tomorrow, then to Paris, and then to Málaga, Spain. The bizarre part is – none of our 10 team members are at the airport or could have possibly made this reservation. At this point my only choice is to sit back and watch God make this thing happen. And, of course, record noteworthy things here and there… in order that I might remember.

Day 2: Independence Day

The 4th of July is always one of the weirdest days of the year. One I spent in Matamoros, Mexico, watching fireworks from across the border next to a drug lord’s house and headquarters. One I spent sitting in a corn field in Iowa. This year… not sure. I’ll let you know how it ends.

So far everything has gone swimmingly. I was severely searched and patted down to within an inch of my life – and considerably embarrassed by the thoroughness of one security officer who pulled out all my crap in search of objectionable items. I really must have looked quite menacing. Other than that… everything has gone quite according to plan (which, of course, is nice for a change). I’m beginning to get the exciting adventure feeling – the kind of feeling that makes sitting in the lobby of Gate B22 looking at the blinking red and orange letters that say “PHX – Los Angeles” for an hour and a half suddenly seem like a secret mission. It’s not 90 minutes “just killing time”… it’s really only 90 minutes till something inexplicably exciting begins.

What can I say? I’m wide awake. Standing on the edge of something large. What’s going to happen? No idea. But that’s the adventure, right?

Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to see.

~*~

It's 10 p.m. and I'm watching the whole metropolis of LA exploding into flame. As we fly out, fireworks go off on every block... explosions of red and green and blue across the sky.



Day 3: Landing

I’m lying in a hotel room in Málaga, Spain. Will wonders never cease?
It did takes some maneuvering to get here, though… and that’s putting things lightly. Upon recovering our luggage, we came to find out that all the trains for the day had gone, and our only hope was the one last bus that would hit the airport any minute. Somehow we made it, and the bus driver chick dropped us off in the general vicinity she believed our hotel was. And there we were – stranded with 18 40 pound bags in the middle of downtown Málaga at 1 in the morning. We must have been a sight. From there we walked – in no direction in particular – in hopes of perhaps finding the elusive Hotel Silken. Typical moment in the life of a Paasch. Thankfully, by what seemed pure chance (and was really pure providence), we suddenly came upon the blessed Hotel Silken. Debbie and Amy and I were ridiculous all night and fell asleep at 2 a.m. – or 9 p.m., our time.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living inside one of those culture-shock comedies – you know, the kind where the dumb American turns globetrotter… and yet, in spite of it all, I’m beginning to really have a view for the nations. The problem is – I’m by no means an evangelist. Hence my qualms with the idea of “missionary life”. And yet, every time I tell myself that the mission field is not for me, I get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I’d just said something dastardly heretical. (I’m not quite sure that “dastardly” fits there – but it had the right sound effect.) Still, I feel like God has shown me too much for me to be content with my little American air-conditioned life.

Day 4: It begins.

A long walk, a bus, another long walk, and a ferry ride later, we arrived in C____. The worker living there (who I’ve heard of for ages and am now finally getting to meet!) met us coming off the ferry, and gallantly rescued us poor females from a few of our extra burdens. With him we had a bit of a pre-trip pep talk, and his advice and well-put direction put my heart a tad more at ease. Just be yourselves, he said. Love people, and it will show. And I’m clinging to his words. If life is war and souls the target, we 10 of us are headed into hand-to-hand combat. Five times a day in a Muslim culture there is a call to prayer, broadcasted from the rooftops of mosques everywhere. After hearing the call to prayer here, I was struck with a very odd, rather eerie feeling – as though I could feel the foothold of the Enemy more clearly than before. My deepest desire is to – for a few short days – bring a candle into a dark place, a place that has gathered shadows and darkness for centuries now… and I want to do it by just tangibly loving people. I have no idea really what that would like in this context, and I desperately need wisdom.

Day 5: First day inside.

We are now in Africa. Our worker friend dropped us off and we were left to the mercies of our new friend, Nuri… our tour guide. We busted out of that hotel and almost immediately found ourselves in the heart of the city’s marketplace. Vendors were all around us, shouting sales calls for their individual wares: fruits, vegetables, fish straight from the water in all varying degrees of freshness… sides of beef and goat and freshly gutted chickens. Immediate sensory overload. Exotic spices – and stenches! – filled the air. Labyrinthine pathways of white-washed walls and centuries-old doorways stretched out in every direction. It was an exhilarating experience, but simultaneously a bit frightening, as dark eyes all around me stared straight into mine – some friendly, some less, some with a sort of brooding hostility. Oh that light would shine in this place again.

From the marketplace we were led (quite unawares), into the local tannery, where we experienced up close and personal the leather-making process. Suffice it to say that, should curiosity into the arts of tanning ever overtake me again, I will gladly content myself with pictures and the the Dummy’s How-To Book at my local Border’s. Some things are better left unsmelled.

Authentic food, hidden courtyards, passionate colors… words cannot do justice to the ancient and intricately carved doors, the mosaic tiling, the incredible craftsmanship we saw everywhere. I wish I had words to describe all I have experienced, just today. There is only one word that begins to give an idea: life-changing. Mind-changing.

Later that night we wandered the streets of the city, looking for opportunities to share, and finding fewer than we expected. No one spoke Spanish, and although we had tried to assimilate our dress to the culture, one could really begin to feel the oppressiveness of the culture as it weights a naïve newcomer down. I began to realize my real inability to make any semblance of a conversation happen, and, circumstances being what they were, we took the chance to walk up and down the streets, just praying. Praying hard. I feel like I’m on a reconnaissance mission of sorts – just learning is all I can do. It’s a humble place to be.

I must remember: love is a universal language.

Day 6

The effects of Islam in the lives and hearts of people are becoming shockingly clear. It hit me just today how little space there is for love in a culture like this… honor and shame are all that matter. Save face. Follow tradition. Appease God. I so desperately want to show them love… but HOW? Does there ever come a point when language and culture barriers are finally too great to overcome?

Tonight – I think – I got my answer.

I realized just how high the stakes were when the time drew near to visit the White Fellowship this evening. We had two taxis drop us off on a beach, and, at a pre-determined spot a brother came and picked us up, leading us through a little doorway (exceedingly well fastened and bolted) to the fellow brothers and sisters awaiting us there.

Once inside, I was surprise at what I found. Instead of the 7 or 8 I expected (the size of the White Fellowship a year ago), 16 or 17 were there to greet us… all with different stories or backgrounds… and yet all of us had somehow been led by the Lord to that very place this very night. 3 American college students were there from all over the U.S., recruited by a very brave young couple working here, and their two precious and very tiny children. Each of the national brothers and sisters were all incredible examples of what God can do in a Muslim heart. Such joy was written across each face… so heavily contrasted with the oppressive somberness that seemed to weight the eyes and hearts of those walking the streets of our city. I had seen the leader of them in a video taken by another worker, entreating all of those fellow believers listening to pray for His people here. And there he was, all smiles, praising with such gladness and abandon that I could not but marvel at God’s faithfulness to His promise… He does indeed have his people from among every nation, tribe, people, and tongue. The Arabic language – so often labeled as a language of hate – was used to bring praises to a beautiful Savior in a remarkable turn of the tide.

I witnessed a miracle tonight.

A few things on my mind:
1. We are NOT safe. One of the Fellowship’s members, in all seriousness, eagerly prayed that we would sleep in our hotel tonight. The last city we’ll reach is one known for terrorism towards evangelists. It makes one think … what am I willing to risk? Would I be ready to give ALL? And yet these brothers really live that, every day.



2. Love is unconditional. I cannot rebel… I have no choice. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Through the love that Christ has poured out on me, so undeservedly – undying, untiring, all-sacrificing love – I therefore CAN love others.



3. Can I be comfortable, now, going home to a comfortable home and comfortable life? It’s not luxurious, perhaps… but it is comfortable. Is this life I have lived merely some coincidence? I have seen too much to be normal now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Someone once said that the actual trip is only the first part of a journey. Coming back to life and putting into action all the things you've learned and seen is quite another thing. I'll tell more about Europe and life getting back later. This is only the beginning.