The Sacrifices of Love

September 24, 2011

         There is a big hill here in Chimbote called the Cerro de la Paz with a church on the side, and a huge cross on top. It takes about 2 hours to hike all the way up to the cross, and the cross can be seen from all over the city. It is a constant reminder of Christ’s sacrifice for all of the people living their busy lives below.

A view of Cerro de la Paz at sunset from our balcony

         The other day was the Dia de Juventud, the day of the youth. There were parties and dances and celebrations everywhere!! We went to a dance with the youth of our church on Friday night, and then on Saturday morning got up early to join many other youth from different parishes to hike up the hill to the cross.  Each group had their own song sheet to chant while walking, their own prayers to say at every station of the cross (which are posted on the path), and a large wooden cross to take turns carrying up.

         This started out as a “wanting to experience a part of the culture thing” but ended up being a much more spiritual experience than we thought. Kyle was able to take a turn carrying the cross up the hill for 2 stations, and afterwards we were talking about how powerful that was for him. Carrying the big wooden cross just 2 stations up a hill, knowing that it would soon be passed to someone else, and having all of his strength and health to carry it up. We talked about Jesus, and how there was no end to his burden of the cross, and once he reached the top he knew he would die (not join a big group of Peruvian youth dancing and singing silly Spanish church songs as we knew we would be doing). Jesus had been beaten, without sleep, food, or water. What a powerful love to be willing to do this for such sinful people.

        
         It all reminded me of a conversation we had the other night about the young generation here compared to the older generation. The older generation seems so tired, so hard working. Their hands are dry, cracked, and wrinkled from so many hours in the sun working in fields or washing clothes. In their faces you can see the stories of their memories of “the violence” that was such a huge part of the Peruvian terrorism in the 1970s and 1980s. You can see how much they sacrificed for the future generations of their families, their children and their children’s children.

         Then there are the youth of today. Wearing jeggings and tight t-shirts and blasting techno music in the streets. Disobeying their hard working parents and living their rebellious teenage lives. It is sad that this older generation worked so hard and suffered so much for their grandchildren to…. Dance to reggaeton and eat fast food hamburgers from a street vendor??

         But wait. We ARE those kids.

         I started thinking about my parents and how much they have done for me.

         My dad always talked about his one room house on a farm with his mom and 2 brothers. Chickens lived in the floor and that is how they got their eggs in the mornings. He would dig up some kind of root and sell it to pharmacies for some extra cash (which means about 50 cents). He walked forever to school, in the snow, to his tiny one room school house where he graduated in rural Oklahoma with a class of something crazy like 20 people. He was one of the first people (if not the first person) in his family to go to college and get a degree. He worked hard, studied constantly, and became an engineer. He worked in an office, lived in Iran for a while, and married my mom and then worked to support not only himself, but her.

         Then I thought about my mom. She also grew up in a small house with 3 other people. She was one of the only women in her highschool to get a college education. She became a secretary and worked very hard. Then after marrying my dad, she worked very hard to have a nice family and a nice home for both of them.

         THEN, after ALL OF THAT, they had me. And had to work EVEN HARDER!! To make money to support me, to teach me to talk and walk, to teach me to be a moral and ethical person. They provided me with food, water, shelter, clothes, love, support, advice, hugs, late night talks, homework help, an education, a love for Christ, a love and respect for animals and the environment, a need to do service, a passion for living life to the fullest. And so much more I can’t even think of.

Then I repaid them by arguing to stay out later, asking for even more money to buy clothes or go out to eat with friends, and begging for a new car when I turned 16. As if I wasn’t already blessed with more than enough.

I guess it doesn’t matter what culture you are living in, this is something that defies cultural borders. Someday these party-loving youth will grow up and have to handwash their clothes in the hot sun and scrub their floors on hand and knee. Just like someday I will be working hard to make money to put my own food on the table, and someday to support my future children the way my parents so lovingly and sacrificially supported me.

So it all comes back to this idea of sacrifice for the ones that you love. My parents gave so much in their lives to have what they have now, to support each other and me. And I want them to know while they are reading this, that there are no words in any language that could express my gratitude and how blessed I feel for their hard work, from age 10 when my dad starting selling Snakeroot, to 2011 when my mom now makes me my favorite meals when I come home. Jesus does the same thing for all of us. We argue and try to be independent and live our own rebellious lives, but in the end we are so grateful for his life, suffering, and death. Because of his life, we have the hope and grace that we have today.

          In the end, thank you mom and dad for being the most amazing people and parents, and thank you Jesus for the sacrifice you made for your children all over the earth.