Matt's Panama Trip

Monday, February 19, 2007: 10:07 AM
Miami International Airport, Miami, Florida  

As is almost always the case, I had the time of my connecting flight to Panama City as 9:50 am, when in fact it leaves at 10:50 am… So, thinking I had to board any moment, I choked down breakfast faster than I’d ever eaten anything in my life, only to discover that I had over an hour to digest (in other words, let it sink to the pit of my stomach.)

The Miami airport has been interesting. The mix of languages and cultures reminds me of a long day I spent years ago in Heathrow Airport/London. As you eavesdrop on conversations taking place among passers by, I’m only occasionally blessed by one in English.

The trip down to Miami was uneventful, although
I don’t quite get how people can sleep on what I call “pencil planes.” I laughed out loud as the flight attendant told us that we had an adjustable head rest (like that was supposed to be this really great thing!) Exactly 2.23 inches of leg room, but an adjustable head rest… so get comfy!

I did get to see Cape Canaveral from my side of the plane, and the runway where the shuttle lands… I think  it’s as close to experiencing what a shuttle commander  experiences when he lands the Shuttle as I’ll ever get.

Monday, February 19, 2007: 1:50 PM
Tocumen Aeropuerte, Panama City, Panama

I’m here. I think God blessed me with something special, because I think I was the only person on the flight from Miami to Panama City that didn’t have someone sitting next to them. The 2 other seats on my side of the aisle were empty, which meant I could stretch my legs. I fear I’ll pay for this on the return flight.  Panama is very green from the air, and the airport is full of American shops… We’ve met the awaiting Samaritan’s Purse team, and we’re waiting for another flight with SP folks to arrive before we head to the hotel. They’ve already began handing out the bottled water, and I can tell just be being near a door that it’s pretty hot.

Monday, February 19, 2007: 10:30 PM
Hotel, Panama City, Panama

Any time you travel internationally change is inevitable and flexibility can be a virtue. One of my main responsibilities this week was to file pictures/blog entries vial internet to be posted on the station website. Well, we thought the hotel had wireless internet… it doesn’t. You can access the internet downstairs for approximately 42 minutes at about 29.50 per minute… I exaggerate, but you get the idea. There’s an internet café around the corner from the hotel with a couple of people who speak English, so that will suffice for the moment, but I don’t think I’ll be able to connect as regularly as I’d hoped, because they close pretty early. I did get off a couple of e-mails there, but oddly enough, computer keyboards in Panama are different… The letters are in the same place, but none of the punctuation is… plus I couldn’t find the “@” symbol (kind of important when sending e-mail!!) A nice Panamanian from the terminal next to me sensed my frustration and showed me the complicated combination of keystrokes to get an @ symbol to pop up.

We had a group meeting this evening to talk over how tomorrow will go, and to meet the others on our distribution team. We also met our translators Genesis (pronounced Henna seese) and Ivonne, and rehearsed a skit that we’ll use to help present the Gospel. I should be going to bed… tomorrow will be a long day, but I’m too excited to see what tomorrow brings to be able to sleep much, but I’m dead tired at the same time.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007: 7:00 AM:

Panamanian breakfast  (not bad- nothing exceptional, and the eggs are kinda weird!), then devotions and a debriefing, and then downstairs to get on our buses. Our first distribution is about 20 minutes outside of Panama City in a “residential area”… The bus is packed, we’ve got plenty of water (it’s not wise to drink the water outside the city) and we’re off. Today, the sun is shining, and my head is clearer and so I get a better look at what Panama City is really like. It’s a level of poverty that I’ve never seen anywhere in the US. Easily 95% of the places that Panamanians call home are places that we”might” store our lawnmowers in. You can tell that crime is rampant in a few sections we drive through. All of our distrubutions this week will be in the same general vicinity.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007: 10:02 AM
Burunda, an area near Panama City

Our bus driver’s name is Ricardo… He’s a navigational genius, but whatever you do, don’t ride in the shot gun seat. It’s much like a thrill ride at Six Flags, except at an amusement park, you know somewhere in the back of your mind that all the twists, turns, and close calls are very calculated and you’re never in any danger. Not so on Ricardo’s bus. The twists, turns, close calls, etc.. are all there, only the danger is real and there are no guarantees, particularly because none of the other mad drivers on the road are employed by Disney World… They simply want to get where they’re going, and will cut you off to do so.

Finally we turn off the main road onto a small gravel trail, and down a small slope when the bus slows to a stop. I figure there must be something wrong with the bus or something. The neighborhood we are in is especially dilapidated, with cement block houses, tattered bits of roof and lots of trash everywhere. To the left of the bus a crowd has assembled, and then through the crowd, I make out the name of the church we’re visiting on a slightly larger cement block building. I say to myself “get ready” because it’s already not what I expected. We get out and make our way into the front door of the church to a cement floor carport-ish building filled with children and parents and church leaders. I’m immediately amazed at how well behaved the children are. As hot as it is, few American kids could sit that still and be so well behaved for so long. We exchange greetings with the pastor and church leaders and children through our translators, and we begin our program of songs and skits, etc.. The kids are having a great time, yet I can’t get over how horrible the conditions are. Eventually the moment arrives to hand out the shoe boxes. The children form two lines and we give them a box, one by one, until every child has been taken care of. We were all a little concerned that we would run short of boxes, but God blessed us and we had enough. All of the children are waiting patiently to open their box… another thing that I’m not sure American children could do so easily. At the count of 3, the box tops fly off and the smiles begin, as the children dig into their treasures. I use the word treasures purposefully as they truly do consider what they hold in their hands as treasures. The joy is tangible and it really seems that, for a moment, the reality of the world is held at bay. The more I think about though, the more I think that it’s me that senses the world at bay, because as I learn more and more about the children of Panama, the more I perceive they have no knowledge whatsoever of their poverty.

One child really touches my heart during this time… His name is Luis, and he approaches me with his shoebox jammed under one good arm, the other in a full arm cast.  He’s talking fast in Spanish, and I track down an interpreter to see what he wants. Turns out, he’s wanting someone to hold his box, and to help him play with his toys, because he can’t manage it with only one arm in service. We look through his box and play with some cars- for a 42 year old American and an 8 year old Panamanian kid, a few matchbox cars seem to tear down any language barriers there are between us. I unwrap a couple of pieces of candy for him, and he begins talking fast in Spanish to me again. We get another interpreter, and Luis is asking me to carry his box for him to his house. We suggest that maybe one of the other children could carry it for him, but he’s apprehensive about that, worried that if one of the other kids carries it, they’ll take it from him. Luis’ older brother shows up, and Luis heads off with a huge ear to ear grin, and a shoebox full of love, securely guarded by a big brother.

As the distribution ends and the children begin to filter out, the pastor gathers us all together to tell us about the school that he and his wife have begun at the church. They’re teaching about 150 kids, 75 in the morning and 75 in the afternoon. We head down into the basement of the church (I didn’t even realize this place had a basement!) and he escorted to a 12 X 18 room with several school desks in it… They’ve painted the walls recently to remove some of the dankness of the room. The rest of the basement is very unfinished with a lot of old wood and other junk that looks like it’s waiting for a trip to the dump. The pastor informs us that they are forced to use both rooms to accommodate all the kids, and are praying for the resources to finish the basement and even build more space for their growing ministry. He says he knows God will provide. The whole thing is too overwhelming for me. I’ve been in houses that have had basements like these, and they’re not the kind of places I’d let my kids go into, and yet this pastor is rightfully proud of this room, the new paint, and the ministry that takes place here every day. They accomplish so much with so little. We circle around the pastor and his wife to pray for them, all of us Americans feeling completely unworthy at the moment. I’m fighting back a flood of tears, when I’m called on to pray for the pastor!! The weight of the moment crushes me… I’m so blessed beyond measure and I take it for granted… the pastor feels that he’s been blessed  beyond measure because we’re here and God allows him to minister to his community. I relent, the tears flow, I choke out a prayer, and before I realize it we’re hugging them goodbye, boarding the bus and we’re off.

It’s lunch, we’re short on time, and as it turns out, today is national holiday in Panama, so most of the restaurants are closed, except… you guessed it- McDonalds. The golden arches are the golden arches wherever you go.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007: 3:00 PM
Burunda, near Panama City

We arrive at our second distribution, ready to tackle just about anything. Many of the children have already arrived and are seated. This church is a bit of a contrast to this morning’s church… It’s a larger building, with new paint inside and a pretty good sized stage. It’s apparent right away that the church leadership is very well organized- the shoeboxes are separated, they’ve brought someone in to lead the program, and they definitely have everything under control. We just hang around in the back, participate in the games, etc.. and then help the children with their shoeboxes after they’re distributed. The best part about this distribution? This is how it’s done in 99.9% of the churches around the world. At all those churches, no one from Samaritan’s Purse or the United States or some Christian radio station comes to hand out the boxes. It’s up to the church leadership to design a program to bring the community in and give out the boxes. This church has clearly seized this opportunity, and we feel privileged to get to witness the fruit of their hard work.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007: 5:30 PM
Hotel, Panama City

What a day it’s been. I’ve learned lessons that I will keep with me for the rest of my days and I fully expect to only begin to understand the depth of these lessons in the days, months, years ahead. I head off to wrestle with the internet again, and then to a traditional Panamanian dinner with the whole Samaritan’s Purse team. I miss my wife and family desperately, but I’m already disappointed that I’ve only got 2 more days of this.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007: 10:00 AM 
Arrijan, a neighborhood about 20 minutes outside of Panama city

After breakfast, morning devotions, and a quick trip to the internet café to upload some pictures, we follow a small country road through a neighborhood, until the road more or less ends, and we’re told the church is about 100 yards up the path. The bus can’t go any farther. As we arrive several children at already there and waiting patiently. A girl is dressed as a clown, and shortly after we arrive she begins to lead some songs and games while more and more kids pile in. One thing is clear to me, music is vital to Panamanian culture and to their church experience. Much to my delight (as a drummer for 30 years) every church we visit has a drum set, while I think only a few have running water. Logically, you might think of this as horrible stewardship… After hearing the children sing and dance and wholeheartedly praise God, I think it’s the best investment they could make. I also see a real opportunity for ministry here, and I begin to wonder, “Is

God stirring my heart toward this?”… The vast majority of the musical gear we saw in all the churches was in terrible condition, held together with tape and paper clips. I saw one boy who had rigged a stapler as a sustain pedal for his keyboard. All of the drums are in need of new heads, hardware, sticks, and some tuning. Hmmm… If we could bring some of that stuff from America… we could help them, and learn a lot about praise and worship in their culture at the same time. My mind is whirring now….”

Wednesday, February 21, 2007: 12:00 PM
McDonalds

We’ve scouted a place a group of us would like to try for lunch. The local food can be a little suspect, but both of our interpreters say they’ed be comfortable eating it, so we give it a go. It was great- chicken and rice, vegetables and warm coca cola. The not so brave ones on the team stick with McDonalds again. We’ve dubbed the McDonalds the Yellow Team Field Headquarters, and so we’re hanging out there after lunch, killing time until our next distribution. At about the time we need to leave, our bus driver, Ricardo is no where to be found. We check the grocery store, the dollar store, and the other shops around, when our team leader mentions something about the casino around the corner. Bob and I get elected to go look inside for him. Sure enough, with 3 minutes to we need to be at the next church we find him, at one of the video slots. I guess we need to be praying for him.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007: 3:10 PM
Church Number Three

Ever since yesterday morning, I’ve been carrying around a special shoebox in my shoulder bag. One of the privileges of being on a shoebox distribution is being able to hand deliver a box. Before I left, my kids made a shoebox for me to take to Panama and give to a child, complete with toys they selected and a hand written letter. Every distribution, I’ve been looking for the “right” child, and I feel like God’s telling me that the “right” one will be here this afternoon.  

We bring a kit to each church pastor that we visit, filled with some resource material. One of the items in the kits is a soccer ball. At this distribution, we took the soccer ball out as a way to keep the boys occupied before the program began. Within 2 minutes there was about 20 boys in a circle passing and dribbling. Soccer really is a part of life here.

The program begins, and we do our songs and skit… Ever since it began, my heart and eyes kept drifting toward one little girl sitting near in the back.  As the children lined up to receive their boxes, God whispered to me, “she’s the one, so I got my pack and unloaded the shoebox and stepped in line to greet her. Our translator let her know that this box was special because it had been made by my children, and that we all had been praying for her that week. I discovered her name is Gita (jee-ta) and she’s 7.  A huge smile appeared and she offered a hug and a kiss on my cheek. I was a mess. She went to her seat to wait for the signal to open the box.  When the kids looked in her box, I was hovering over her as if she were my own child, quickly snapping up picture after picture. Again, I dragged a translator over to read Gita the letter from Mattie, Macie and Cole. She listened intently as she hugged her new stuffed pink lamb and when our translator had finished reading the letter, Gita said that her favorite parts were the stuffed animal, but mainly the letter. Again, I was a mess. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

Once again, too soon, it’s time to go. The kids are heading home, and as we’re packing up to leave, the pastor is no where to be found. His wife seems to be avoiding the question about where he is or when he’ll be back. A few minutes later, he shows up and gathers our whole team together. Before we can pray for him, he asks to pray for us, and then begins to present us with gifts. It seems that he left to go somewhere to buy gifts for all of us as a way of saying thank you. We humbly accept, although we all feel totally unworthy… Here is a man who has surrendered his life to serving his God among the some of the poorest people in Central America, and he’s spending his own money to bless us with gifts. While any one of us could have probably purchased the gifts with the money we had in our pocket that day, we knew it was a tremendous sacrifice for him and his family. The emotions flooded our hearts again, as we felt blessed by God through this very humble man and his wife, and thankful to have been given such a rich opportunity. I already sense that this will be a day I will never forget.

Thursday, February 22, 2007: 9:00 AM

One final opportunity to see God do something miraculous through a simple shoebox, as we’re now heading out to our final shoebox distribution. It’s at a church in a neighborhood much like the others we’ve been in, but there’s definitely a sweeter, gentler spirit here. The first thing we all notice is that several of the mothers in the church are dressed differently, in some kind of native attire. A few questions, and we discover that they’re members of one of 3 indigineous Indian tribes still in existence in Panama, a tribe called the Kunas. The ladies have colorful beads and headdresses. We also discover that they don’t speak Spanish, but their own Indian dialect, that doesn’t translate very well to Spanish. One of their older daughters speaks both their dialect and Spanish, so in order for us to communicate with them, our words have to be translated twice, from English to Spanish by our translator, then from Spanish to the Kunas dialect by this other girl. The distribution went amazing well, and the kids had a wonderful time. I was particularly drawn to a older boy and an adult who were both experimenting with the drum set at the church. I learned that the church had saved for a really long time to buy this used (very used) drumset, and the church was praying for someone to attend who knew how to play. The two  were trying to teach themselves, so I helped them a little bit. The older man, Portofilo Gomez only new a few English words, one of them being “rookie”. Every time he’d try something on the drum set, he’d point to himself and exclaim “Rookie!!”. As we packed up, the pastors wife communicated to us that some folks needed a ride, and they were hoping that we could accommodate. We accepted, and almost reconsidered when we saw the crowd that amassed outside the bus door waiting to get in. As it turned out, we were giving a ride to all the Kunas tribe. The church pastor has been running a cell group in their community and they had left this morning at 7:00 am to be there for a 10:00 am distribution. Once we squeezed everyone on board, through our translators, they asked us if we wanted to visit where they lived. We accepted, and soon the bus driver was heading up into the hills surrounding Panama City. Eventually, we stopped and got out, and headed up a trail to their place. What we experienced in the next hour is something none of us was prepared for. Their home was a lean to made out of wood and some old tin pieces, with sheets hanging outside to provide a bit of shade. We talked some them, playing with their kids, and taking pictures… As our hearts broke for these beautiful people who seemed even more desperate and poor than all the others we’d ministered to, we decided to give them our bag lunches. As quickly as they were snatched up, it was obvious that they were hungry. It was time to go, and we gradually made our way to the buses, their children begging us to stay longer. As we parted, the Kunas ladies, in a very sacred and ceremonial way, began to present the ladies on our team with various articles of their clothing- headdresses, necklaces, beaded armbands, etc.. It was the most moving moment of the whole trip. People with next to nothing, giving us, who have so much, the only thing that they could. To these Indian ladies, their dress defined who they were and for them to give that  to our ladies, it was a significant and personal sacrifice.

What an unexpected blessing this detour was. There was silence on the bus as we all thought of what we just experienced. At some point we discovered that as a result of us visiting with the Kunas, we missed our opportunity to do some shopping at one of the local Panamanian markets. No one cared.

We ate lunch at a gas station, and headed, albeit late, to the Panama Canal. Knowing we were due back to the hotel for a team meeting at 4:30, we expected to breeze through the canal quickly and get back on the road quickly, hopefully arriving at the hotel in time to grab a quick shower before the meeting. When we got to the Panama Canal, we were just a few minutes away from a ship going through the canal, so we all sacrificed showers before the meeting to stick around and experience this rare opportunity. What made it even more spectacular was that not one, but 2 ships were arriving at the canal simultaneously, a cargo ship and a giant cruise ship. It was an amazing site. Well worth skipping the shower for.

Our bus driver thought we were 45 minutes from the hotel and it was after 4:00 pm when we pulled out of the parking lot. We called ahead to let folks know that we would probably be late for the meeting. We encountered traffic, and thought that we were doomed for sure. But, as God seemed to have been directing this day all along, we miraculously arrived at the hotel at 4:25. I’m still not sure how that happened.

After the meeting, a quick shower and an even quicker meal, we boarded the buses again for the Estadio Nacional Rod Carew, the major baseball facility in Panama City, for the beginning night of the Franklin Graham Festival. It was a beautiful night, and the crowd of about 10,000 was electrified by the latin music of Crystal Lewis and Latin artist Marcos Witt. As absolutely every single person in the stadium danced and clapped and waved the hands to the music of Marcos, it became clear to me how important music is to Panamanian culture. Franklin preached about Zaccheus through a translator, and gave a simple, but powerful invitation. As part of the BGEA, I’ve been privileged to attend several Festivals/Crusades and I’ve never seen a response like this night. In my estimation, 45% of the crowd went forward. Thousands gave their heart to God that night, and several folks with Samaritan’s Purse commented seeing children/parents at the Festival that they’d given shoeboxes to earlier in the week. This was the perfect ending to an incredible week of ministry.

As I continue to recount my experience and relive these memories, I’m continually reminded of how important this simple program is. If you’ve packed a shoebox before, and never received a response back from a child, don’t letter that discourage you from doing it again. If you’ve thought about it, but never participated, do it this year. You can begin to buy items for the boxes now. OCC touches the world in several ways. First, your shoebox shares the gospel in a tangible way with a child somewhere. You can easily lose sight of the profoundness of this until you see the boxes come full circle and get placed in the hands of a child. To that child, it’s by far the most valuable thing they have. We look at it, and figure someone spent 15 to 20 dollars putting it together. They see it as a box full of things that they never dreamed would be theirs. Secondly, OCC is an incredible blessing to pastors. Men and women who’ve been called to reach out to their communities but have little or no resources or money to do it with. Their churches have nothing. So when 8 cartons of shoeboxes show up on their churches front steps, they see it as God giving them a once in a lifetime opportunity to really impact their community. If you put a dollar value on all those boxes, there would be no way these pastors could raise that money to do that kind of outreach on their own. You’ve blessed them with what they’ve dreamed of as a pastor. Think of it this way… what if a stranger walked into your church in the US, and gave 5 million dollars to impact your community? What would you do with it? That’s how a pastor feels when he’s been blessed with they chance to give out shoeboxes at his church.

As I think about this week, I’ll continue to add updates to this page. If you’re interested in stepping up your churches participation in OCC, and I can help in any way, let me know. I’m available to speak about the project, show pictures, etc.. at your church any time. E-mail me at matt@wmit.org.

Buenas Dias!