On the Other Hand. . .

Yesterday, I received a wistful email from a North American friend in response to this blog. He wrote that he longed for worship under the stars, was searching for the beautiful questions, and then concluded, “So today I pray for the light air of Nicaragua to reach the stuffy confines of my study here in Iowa.”

Yes, for me, Nicaragua, does provide fresh air. On the other hand. . .

Yesterday at the Nehemiah Center, a North American who coordinates assistance for Nicaraguan Christian schools, schools that need to meet many criteria to qualify for aid. He told me of schoolrooms he helped build that now stand empty, despite his organization’s careful process. The school’s scholarship program from a siter church in Nicaragua died, and so did the enrollment. “Things are not always what they seem,” he said.

Another North American couple is considering moving to Nicaragua after six years in Bolivia where they have been working with rain forest farmers. They had success there—sort of. In those six years, the local farmers prospered, and two years ago, with North American help, a church was built. But as the farms prospered, the farm families moved to the nearest city—two hours away. “You can’t blame them,” the couple said.  “The city has electricity, and running water, and high schools.” So the families live in the city and the farmer fathers join them on weekends. Sundays the church is almost empty.

Mario, a Nicaraguan aristocrat in Chinandega was warm and friendly, but skeptical. “Give money to a beggar—who have you helped? No one.  It will be used for alcohol or drugs.” We nodded. Sometimes helping hurts.*

We told him a bit about the Nehemiah Center philosophy—systemic change on many fronts—in hearts, churches, families, business, government. . .

Mario, who lost 2,500 acres in the Sandinista revolution chuckled. “Good luck!” he said. He told us of foreigners who bought Nicaraguan land and build houses with thick walls, aluminum roofs, and tiny windows. In this hot country, they were uninhabitable ovens.

I once read that there is nothing so obnoxious as a recently converted anything. I remember those over-the-top gringos at TipTop our first day in Chinandega [http://nicaraguajourney.blogspot.com/2012/01/today-rant.html}. With them I may be part of a God’s monumental story, but today I know again that I don’t want to mirror them.

So, for the record and for my wistful friends, here it is: working in Nicaragua, too, has its fair share of stale and stifling air.

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*An excellent book on this subject: When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor. . .and Yourself  http://www.whenhelpinghurts.org/