Penatensya

Disclaimer: This is a very gruesome post, please do not read this to children and avoid reading this if you have a sensitive stomach. These are the times when being a missionary isn't all warm and fuzzy. This is the reality. This is gruesome. This is part of my life.

I walk towards the Kia we came in. I reach up and wipe the base of my neck, I remember feeling something there. I look at the plastic cup that I bought at the beginning of the morning... its still 1/2 full. I feel bad for wasting, but I know my stomach cannot handle anything more right now.

I glance down... sighing at the sight. I'm splattered in blood, but not any one person's blood, this is the blood of men.. many men...hundreds of men.

I have just witnessed the penatensya for the first time in my life. The penatensya is a Catholic tradition here where men beat and whip themselves to commemorate Jesus' beatings, crucifixion, and death on the cross. The tradition is not put on by the catholic church, but the church definately endorses it. Hundreds of men parade through the street, some walking holding their whips that have many wooden sticks on the ends, about the size of cigars. The sticks are connected to the end of a long rope which the guy slings to his back and upper arms, eventually causing blood to run and splatter. There are volunteers who walk the streets with whips made of tire tread or wood, willing to whip the participants. Nothing is forced upon anyone, it is all of their own will. Some do it... just because. Some are laughing the whole time. Others are very serious about it, whipping themselves harder than the others, the ressults of their seriousness evident on their faces and their bodies. Other participants crawl, army style crawls, on their stomachs or backs the whole way on the rough pavement. The whole way people, 'good devout religious' people, watching the masked participants.

So why do I go? Why in the world would I standby and watch such horrific and tragic events...because this is the culture I'm called to minister to. This is the mindset of the people that I'm living amongst. This is me connecting with the people that I have come to love. I'm shaken by what I've seen, I'm shaken to the core but I'm also exposed to the blindness. The culture truly believes that Jesus dies every year...but I know better. I know that our Savior paid the price... ONCE AND FOR ALL! It doesn't have to be added to by their self-beatings...but oh, how to tell them that. How to tell the ones that believe they are safe that. My former Sunday School teacher David P. said it best, "If you don't think you're drowning, it will do me no good to throw you a life preserver; if you don't think you're drowning, you're not going to grab it."

Oh Dear God, please give me wisdom and guidance. Please allow me to love and minister effectively to the people You have called me to. Let me not be seen, let me not be heard, let it be YOU ALONE they see, let it be YOU ALONE they hear.

~ To God Be the Glory!