So, you speak Spanish. Do you like puppets?

“So, Allie what are you going to do while you’re in Bolivia?” When mentioning the Bolivia mission trip, I’m asked that question a lot. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m going. What would you do if you had to say…”well, the only reason I'm going is because God told me to go.” And some probe further, “Yeah, but what are you going to do?” Half the time, I feel like Jesus is holding my hand and we’re going through a trail in the dead of night. I can only see so far ahead of me. Right now,  I don’t have a lot of clarity about my life in general. Maybe that’s a good thing…anyway, I’ll continue to attempt to answer the most frequently asked question…in my typical roundabout way.

            Usually after the 11am service, I head upstairs to the children’s church. Haley, my friend’s daughter, is 3 and, of course, she’s my buddy. So I have to get a hug from Haley. Needless to say, I ran into the kid’s church pastor who is also going on this year’s mission trip. He says, “So, I hear you speak Spanish.” I affirmed his statement and he said: “Good. I was wondering who was going to help interpret for the puppet show. You like puppets, don’t you?” Then he proceeded to show me the puppets hanging on his office wall. How could I say no?!

            So, what I can say is that my answer is evolving. I am now going to Bolivia because: a) God told me to and b) I get to participate in the puppet show for the children. The answer really isn’t that simple. Really, it’s not. I sense that God is taking me to Bolivia to experience two things: a deeper form of powerlessness and a deeper awareness of spiritual poverty. I don't quite know how these things will shape up.

            Powerlessness, like people, comes in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors. In a previous life, I worked as a Case Manager for a nationally known non-profit. Some days, for example, I would come home from work and wonder why I could pay my rent and so many others could not. If one of my friends started to complain about their work, I’d bring up a situation that I felt absolutely powerless over and hit them over the head with it. In some ways, I felt that it gave me power – it really didn’t. That kind of job wears a lot of people out. It certainly wore me out – I didn’t have any faith and if there was a God, why did life have to suck for so many people? I still don’t have the answer to that one – even though I do believe in God.

            So yes, there are different levels of powerlessness. Traffic. That’s a great example. We are all powerless over traffic. Then there’s the powerlessness of rejection – whether it’s by a romantic interest, a friend, or even family members. How about when a home burns to the ground? That happens more often than not in California. One of my close friends lost her home this year. The list can go on and on. Have you ever made a list of all the things that you are powerless over? If not, make one. It’s a great exercise. And the answer still is the same – no matter how many times I do it: I’m powerless over the external but powerful over the internal. That’s really it. Powerlessness isn’t an adversary. It doesn’t have to be – though it may feel like one at times. I guess it depends on our perception. If I simply accept that it exists, I can embrace it. And I take it one step further: I can embrace it with God’s help. Easier said than done. I know.

            Now the spiritual poverty thing. First off, let me be clear I am not one of those wealth is evil type of people.  I agree with my homeboy Dave Ramsey who says that wealth is a great magnifier of who you are. Allow me to poorly paraphrase Dave:

 If you were an asshole before you became wealthy, you are (more often than not) an asshole on an even larger scale. If you were generous before you became wealthy, you are (more often than not) even more generous.

I am not a “stuff” person. It drives my mother crazy because “stuff” is part of her love language. It’s not part of mine. Not really – unless you count books. I love books – writing in them, the texture of the page, the smell of them. This isn’t to say that I’m not attached to certain things that are of great sentimental value. I am. While technically, admittedly, below the poverty line I am not poor in terms of global poverty. I still have access to food and water (as long as California has it). I can pay my rent. I also have access to healthcare. Have I been on skid row in L.A.? Yes. Have I lived on skid row in L.A.? Hell no. Do I see opportunities to get out of the poverty line? Yes. I do. But sometimes, I forget who ultimately drives the bus.

            I am fortunate to have close friends in various parts of the country. Some of whom have donated and supported me on this wacky spiritual adventure. My friend Sarah and I often call each other – some how we tend to balance each other out. When I feel overwhelmed and “my crazy” comes to visit, Sarah reminds me: Who’s driving the bus? You or God. I forget that God is ultimately driving the bus. That’s what I mean. I’m spiritually poor because I forget that everything flows from and back to God – these people in Bolivia are dependent on God for everything. Even in their lack, there is a great abundance in the spiritual bank account.