Cartago, the Crater, and the Church

In our last episode, I was ready to bid adios to Timothy and his family and begin the trek home.

Loosely translated: Cave Farm, the Jones Sánchez (Keiry’s family name) family’s homestead

Timothy took me to Josiah’s house, 45 minutes or so down out of the mountains, and after breakfast we were off to Josiah’s in-laws’ place in Cartago, the capital of the province that he and Timothy work in, where Josiah’s wife Cynthia’s father is the pastor of the Foursquare Gospel Church. While Cynthia spent the afternoon translating for the gringo speakers at the women’s conference there, Josiah, his sons Joel and Ian, and I went up to Irazú Volcano National Park. At just shy of 12,000 feet, this is the highest I have ever been on foot.

Josiah and friend at his place

The facilities of the church pastored by Don Rafael and Doña Teresita

Ian, Joel, and someone who lacks the sense to unroll his jeans

We’re not sure of the extent of the restoration, but at some point this must have been cheap advertising

No picture I took did the crater any more justice than this.

Twelve thousand feet and still ticking. To hear Joel tell the story, and we did many times, Josiah hit the spot and then some giving this Timex watch as a present.

The conference was still going when we got back down to Cartago, so we took a nap and then returned to pick up Cynthia. “I’m leaving now” in Tico culture is said a good 45 minutes or so before one walks out the door, even of mass meetings, and Cynthia hadn’t said she was leaving yet when we arrived, so we had an hour to chat with some of the gringos after we arrived. Their entire ministry is to get missionaries together for the encouragement that comes from meeting other missionaries outside the plenary sessions. Often people working in difficult or hostile countries feel like they’re all alone because they don’t know anyone going through the unique struggles they are, and simply finding another kindred spirit within reach can make the difference between keeping on keeping on and quitting from discouragement.

After dinner Josiah and I had a long chat about church growth, evangelism, and church planting. He had asked me earlier if I had read Pagan Christianity? by George Barna, which I hadn’t, but an excellent video (by a self-confessed fat white guy from North America—start at 13 minutes) recommended by a particularly pertinent issue of an e-newsletter mentioned it—I was watching the video because I had long since lost the train of discussion Josiah, Cynthia, and her parents were having)—so after the parents went to bed we talked well into the night. While we wonder if the strengths that built “the institutional church” may have become weaknesses that are crippling it, both of us have been loved and nourished by it and see our futures as working within it to some degree.

Don Rafael’s carport, spacious because there is no room to park on the street, and if there were, good cars would be in danger from thieves and vandals.

This morning it was off to church. It was different from my normal routine for sure: dancing in the aisles, clapping, shouting, hands raised—where could that have come from? One reminder of my first days at Lansdale Presbyterian Church was the picture of the trees planted by the river at the front. A smaller version of the same idea was the subject of a conversation that ended up drawing Ginny and me into the Indian immigrant community in our area many years ago.

If I understood Josiah correctly, every Foursquare Gospel church has 1 Tim 1:17, Heb 13:8, and 1 Pet 1:25 as murals in the front of the church. The service itself was full—this was the postlude.

After church Don Rafael and Doña Teresita treated us to lunch at a local Chinese restaurant. The main course was the usual tasty mix of meat, MSG, and corn starch, but the appetizer was pulpo con jalapeños (octopus soup spiced with jalapeño peppers) that was so good I might even order it voluntarily sometime.

I needed a walk after lunch, so Josiah gave me specific instructions for getting to Cartago’s main tourist attraction, the ruins of an old basilica with an adjoining square, and from there home.

Sir Walter Raleigh, to say nothing of the Pilgrims, were Johnny-come-lately when they got to North America.

Karaoke in the square using traditional Indian instruments.

Until a couple of years ago the streets in Cartago and probably other towns were unnamed. This is the intersection of Zero Street and Fourth Avenue, but locals know it as a couple of blocks south of the ruins. The orange triangle points north for days the volcano, the usual directional landmark can't be seen.

The next noteworthy event should be my getting on the plane tomorrow afternoon, so this is hasta la vista to you Pennsylvanians and adios to the rest. God has been very gracious to me on this trip, and may he bless you richly for your interest and concern.