Picture yourself in a kitchen. Strip out all of the cupboards, shelves, counters, and food. Good. Now get rid of the table. You can leave a few chairs. Turn out all of the lights except for one. Turn off the hot water. Unplug the fridge and remove the door. Good, now it can be used as a storage unit for your random dishes. Did I mention that your dishes absolutely cannot match? Next, tear out the tile floor and cement foundation, so that you're down to packed earth. Replace your dog with 4 roaming chickens, 2 ducks, a rooster, and freshly hatched chicks. Your dog can keep the cow company, outside. Finally, build a little fire in a stone bowl, and set it on a stool in the middle of the room. Great. Now we're ready to bring in the chairs for our budding children's ministry! It was in this setting that I led the most fun Bible study of my life.
One of my goals was to help train 2 teenagers, so I got to discover my own creativity in finding memorable ways to teach without spending much money on resources. And God has been so good in giving me ideas. I know they were from Him because the best ones were usually last minute additions. For example, one evening I was planning to teach on Gomar and Hosea. I know that sounds crazy as a children's story, but prostitution is an accepted part of this culture. A mother once told me that drugs and prostitution were her greatest fears for her daughter. Girls often sleep with teachers to get good grades or pay their way through school, and fathers commonly pay for their sons' first visit as a right of passage. Anyway, we were going to talk about God's relentless love, that night. On the way out the door, I remembered that bridal shower game where you make a wedding gown out of toilet paper, so I asked my ride to hold on while I ran across the street to buy TP. Another thing I loved about God's inspiration, is that the ideas would often evolve with later lessons. It was that Hosea night, in fact, that I had the random idea of using different colors of water to represent different nations, and mixed them all together to show how Israel became dirty (like a prostitute) when she worshiped other gods. Then this last week, I thought to use Clorox bleach to restore the water to its original clarity. And I discovered that the Clorox took a minute to take effect, so if I worked fast I could dump some red food coloring in bleach (which the kids just assumed was water), say that it represented Jesus' blood, and pour it into Israel's dirty water to make them clean! Then, I had the idea of cutting hearts out of black fabric and having each of the kids baptize their heart in Jesus' blood, and they could see hearts could becoming clean, too! Anyway, that's what I mean by evolving. Back when I first thought to use water to symbolize Israel's impurity, Clorox wasn't even on my mind's horizon. But everything tied together so perfectly. Anyway, every week was a blast!
I decided to teach them the Story of the Bible, by teaching them a scene/ story every week, going in chronological order, beginning with Adam and Eve. For every story, we made up an action step and built a mime that takes us all the way through to Jesus. Paraguayans are story people. We finished up our series, this last week, with Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. I'd met, earlier, with a Guarani speaking member of our church, who talked with the kids about Jesus' desire to have a relationship with them and led them in "the sinners' prayer". Most weeks, I felt like I could get by with shoddy Spanish and a bunch of games/ dramas/ etc, but didn't want to risk confusion on this one. After they prayed, the believer in whose house we met prayed for all of the kids. I've had a lot of questions, recently, about the salvation process, especially with young children whose parents are not believers, themselves. But I do know that God loves these kids and on December 5, 2007, they invited Him to clean their dirty hearts and be their friend. And that's super exciting.
Besides it being a fun and challenging teaching experience, I also grew to love the kids. A few months ago, I noticed that Paraguayan little girls are always holding hands. I have nephews, so I don't know if this is true for little girls, across the board, or specifically in Paraguay. But I've noticed it, here. They're so sweet and honest in their invitations for friendship and connection. They run around the playground holding hands. They go to lunch holding hands. They chase boys holding hands. They do everything holding hands. When do they lose that instinct? A few months, ago, one of the Kapi-I girls took my hand as we ran out to play Hide-and-Seek. It was really uncomfortable for me. I mean, it's sweet to grab someone's hand, squeeze it a little to say "I care" and then let it go. But holding hands as you go from place to place? After a while, I casually pulled away. But then I remembered my hand-holding observations. What an honor! Immediately I reached for hers, again.
My mom always taught me that people don't care what you know until they know that you care. In Kapi-I, I learned that care equals play. Most nights, we'd finish before the adults and go out to play Hide-and-Seek. I hated it. These little kids were the descendants of forest dwelling Guarani warriors. They were quick, agile, and stealthy. I, on the other hand, felt like an overgrown white moron. I could have them cornered at only a meter away, and they'd somehow dodge my grasp. I was "it" every other round. "Why in the world did they want me to play?" I would always ask myself. It certainly wasn't because I offered good competition. But every week they'd eagerly take my hand, and with their shining eyes and radiant smiles they'd ask me, "Vamos a jugar?!" So every week I put my comfort and pride on the shelf and decided that so long as they wanted me, I could do nothing better with my evening than run around a muddy field in the dark with a bunch of little Guarani warriors.
By the way, grapes and watermelon are now in season. YUM!
One of my goals was to help train 2 teenagers, so I got to discover my own creativity in finding memorable ways to teach without spending much money on resources. And God has been so good in giving me ideas. I know they were from Him because the best ones were usually last minute additions. For example, one evening I was planning to teach on Gomar and Hosea. I know that sounds crazy as a children's story, but prostitution is an accepted part of this culture. A mother once told me that drugs and prostitution were her greatest fears for her daughter. Girls often sleep with teachers to get good grades or pay their way through school, and fathers commonly pay for their sons' first visit as a right of passage. Anyway, we were going to talk about God's relentless love, that night. On the way out the door, I remembered that bridal shower game where you make a wedding gown out of toilet paper, so I asked my ride to hold on while I ran across the street to buy TP. Another thing I loved about God's inspiration, is that the ideas would often evolve with later lessons. It was that Hosea night, in fact, that I had the random idea of using different colors of water to represent different nations, and mixed them all together to show how Israel became dirty (like a prostitute) when she worshiped other gods. Then this last week, I thought to use Clorox bleach to restore the water to its original clarity. And I discovered that the Clorox took a minute to take effect, so if I worked fast I could dump some red food coloring in bleach (which the kids just assumed was water), say that it represented Jesus' blood, and pour it into Israel's dirty water to make them clean! Then, I had the idea of cutting hearts out of black fabric and having each of the kids baptize their heart in Jesus' blood, and they could see hearts could becoming clean, too! Anyway, that's what I mean by evolving. Back when I first thought to use water to symbolize Israel's impurity, Clorox wasn't even on my mind's horizon. But everything tied together so perfectly. Anyway, every week was a blast!
I decided to teach them the Story of the Bible, by teaching them a scene/ story every week, going in chronological order, beginning with Adam and Eve. For every story, we made up an action step and built a mime that takes us all the way through to Jesus. Paraguayans are story people. We finished up our series, this last week, with Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. I'd met, earlier, with a Guarani speaking member of our church, who talked with the kids about Jesus' desire to have a relationship with them and led them in "the sinners' prayer". Most weeks, I felt like I could get by with shoddy Spanish and a bunch of games/ dramas/ etc, but didn't want to risk confusion on this one. After they prayed, the believer in whose house we met prayed for all of the kids. I've had a lot of questions, recently, about the salvation process, especially with young children whose parents are not believers, themselves. But I do know that God loves these kids and on December 5, 2007, they invited Him to clean their dirty hearts and be their friend. And that's super exciting.
Besides it being a fun and challenging teaching experience, I also grew to love the kids. A few months ago, I noticed that Paraguayan little girls are always holding hands. I have nephews, so I don't know if this is true for little girls, across the board, or specifically in Paraguay. But I've noticed it, here. They're so sweet and honest in their invitations for friendship and connection. They run around the playground holding hands. They go to lunch holding hands. They chase boys holding hands. They do everything holding hands. When do they lose that instinct? A few months, ago, one of the Kapi-I girls took my hand as we ran out to play Hide-and-Seek. It was really uncomfortable for me. I mean, it's sweet to grab someone's hand, squeeze it a little to say "I care" and then let it go. But holding hands as you go from place to place? After a while, I casually pulled away. But then I remembered my hand-holding observations. What an honor! Immediately I reached for hers, again.
My mom always taught me that people don't care what you know until they know that you care. In Kapi-I, I learned that care equals play. Most nights, we'd finish before the adults and go out to play Hide-and-Seek. I hated it. These little kids were the descendants of forest dwelling Guarani warriors. They were quick, agile, and stealthy. I, on the other hand, felt like an overgrown white moron. I could have them cornered at only a meter away, and they'd somehow dodge my grasp. I was "it" every other round. "Why in the world did they want me to play?" I would always ask myself. It certainly wasn't because I offered good competition. But every week they'd eagerly take my hand, and with their shining eyes and radiant smiles they'd ask me, "Vamos a jugar?!" So every week I put my comfort and pride on the shelf and decided that so long as they wanted me, I could do nothing better with my evening than run around a muddy field in the dark with a bunch of little Guarani warriors.
By the way, grapes and watermelon are now in season. YUM!
