Where we were supposed to be

The large kitchen of our host's house was full to overflowing .  Children ran back and forth across the rough wood floor.  Women sat near sleeping babies, fanning the constantly with a shirt or piece of material.  Others used these to fan themselves, cooling the steady evening and chasing away the swarms of gnats threatening to drive one crazy.  Most of those around  me were dressed in long pants and shirts, despite the trickles of sweat running down each neck.

I was in the community of Platanares, a Wounaan village along the Pacific coast.  Next to me sat Steve Ganz.  He was halfway through telling the story of Job, and my voice felt woefully inadequate to reach  over the squabbling children, barking of dogs, and the flapping of shirts against the legs.

As I struggled to translate his message faithfully, I was struck in a new way by his story.  While all of Job's friends tried to explain why tragedy has fallen on him, the beginning of the story was glaringly obvious.  Job was suffering, not because of his badness but in spite of his goodness.

As I searched for the right words I found that Steve was coming to a close.  Into the story of Job he had women stories fro his own life times of want and questioning God.  He simply closed by inviting questions and comments.

The comments began to flow.  This small community was still reeling from the tragic death of their young leader.  Not only had he left behind a wife and four small children, but an entire village that seemed to be asking why.

One woman shared how she wished she could have turned herself into a man, taken up a gun and sought revenge on her own terms.  But the story also included how she had laid aside that though and found peace through God's healing.  Others shared from their hearts.  Their mourning was beginning to be replaced by comfort.

The following day, we hardly had a moments rest.  We visited local homes, prayed with the church leaders, and counseled those who came seeking help in understanding the situation surrounding them.

It was a fruitful time that ended too soon.  We found ourselves on a boat again, heading out over the Pacific ocean towards our home in Chepo.  We felt sure that we had been there right when we were supposed to.  .

(above we shared a joke while waiting for the meal)