La Gracia

As I drove home this afternoon, my mind began to wander off into several rambles which usually lead to specific conclusions on particular topics.  Tonight and ever so surprisingly, I began to process through something quite foundational in my culture: failure.  In my experience, failure is an extremely crippling element- it isn't denied as something that will never happened, but it seems as if it shouldn't happen. Deep in my own thought and far into the process of a previous conversation, I began to think about the crippling weight of failure.  Growing up, failure meant weakness, showed vulnerability, and if there was any hint of success then there was always room for improvement.  Failure kept me from speaking, moving forward, apologizing, interacting, and pursuing.  I would much rather have gone through more punishment than be given a deep understanding of the nature of my failure.

When I first began to build a relationship with Jesus, I could not understand His radical approach to failure.  In fact, what scared me most about Him was not the punishment I presumed I would receive upon the confession of my sin, but the disappointment I would give Him through my failure.  I thought I would be left behind and stuck in a limbo of shame. But, none of that was true.

In Mexican culture, you are shown a deep understanding of failure so that you can see the cost left to you and the family. Jesus, however, allows failure in order to demonstrate our need for Him.  As we draw closer, our relationship with Him grows because it is His grace that covers us, not the construction of our legality or morals.  Failure outside of Jesus bears the ongoing production of rules that's purpose is to reflect weakness.  Failure inside of of Jesus bears the ongoing production of grace that's purpose is to reflect our need of a Savior.

Familia y Amigos, failure isn't weak or unacceptable.  Failure is an affirmation of our need for Jesus Christ.  That's completely different than anything we can experience because with need comes comfort not shame.

"Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort." (2 Corinthians 1:3)

Con Amor,

Oso

EL Valle y Los Sunday's

It's 5:30 a.m. and the morning's night is cold and the further distance outside of the city limits the more quiet it is. As the coffee brews and my mind begins to realize that I'm awake, I smell the familiar scent that travels through every Valluco's nose, one that is strange to the outsider, but an embrace of home to the natives: tortillas.  While coffee has an aroma that allows most to start their day, the smell of freshly hand-made tortillas puts it to shame. It's Sunday.  A day where masses will gather to celebrate Diosito and praise Him for the cross.  It's a time of mariachi.  It's a time for the mariachi to shine their boots and tune their instruments before driving to the church.  It's a time for fathers to be at HEB, Junior's, Jesse's, or Dorita's shopping for the best meat and seasoning at 6:00 a.m.  It's a time for hijos y hijas to wake up and make sure their siblings are getting ready for church while moms, abuelitas (who we called "bueli"), and cousins are getting the food in order so when they get back from church, they can begin cooking.

It's Sunday.  A day where families will worship the tradition of religion through the church.  It's a time where families will become one despite the events that passed during the week.  It's a day where children are made much of at church and during the BBQ.  It's a time where the party begins at 12:00 p.m. and we don't believe in invitations.

It's Sunday.  A day where families from los barrios go over to everyone else's home to celebrate the arrival of Sunday.  It's a time where fathers begin their weekly routine of lighting the fire: some with charcoal over a cast-iron BBQ pit, some with mesquite logs over a caja de muerto, and others with kindle, twigs, and large branches in between three cinder blocks on the ground with a grill set on top.  It's a time where rituals mean nothing more than bringing the family together.

It's Sunday.  A time where the poor are rich.  It's a time where jokes are made and the laughing is so hard that one needs to be fanned down because they may choke on the very air they're trying to breathe.  It's a time where soccer games are played- "Football es para los americanos."  It's a time for service and the communion of family.

It's Sunday.

Hasta, 

El Oso