Domestic Internship Pictures and Testimonies

“I came into the internship wanting to gain skills for urban ministry.  But I’ve gained more than skills—I’m coming out equipped for ministry.  The internship has equipped me with a solid theology of God and the poor, given me experience ministering with a team, matured my character, and shaped my spirituality into one that is able to last through tough urban ministry.  Two years seems barely enough!” - Michelle Kao, Class of 2003-05

“The measure you give is the measure you get in this internship.  The more willing you are to be challenged, to make mistakes, to take initiative, to let God stretch you in areas you don't expect to be stretched in, the more you will get out of this internship.  This is not just an internship where you sit in a classroom and learn practical skills for urban ministry--it is a two-year crash course in following Jesus with your entire life.” – Teresa Ku, Class of 2004-06

“I’m a bit closer to understanding what it means that those who mourn are blessed . . .  One Friday night Daisy, a 12-year-old that I’ve been getting to know, was at her friend’s house because she and her older brother had had yet another fight, and she refused to go home to face the discipline of her mother and to see her brother.  Finally she consented, and when we got to her house, she started crying, and it hit me how hard her life is right now.  My first reaction, as I prayed for her, was that God would shield her from all this hurt.  But then I remembered from our study of Luke that God calls those who mourn Blessed.  And so now my prayer for her is that she would meet Jesus in her suffering . . . and my prayer for me is that I would have the courage and patience to suffer and mourn with her in the difficult situations in her life, as well as those difficult situations that I encounter in my own life.” - Betsy Stewart, Class of 2004-06

"The Old and the New: A Day in the Life" by Jacob Vigil

I just came back from a weekend long Luke manuscript study “dig-in” with Servant Partners. This weekend was so important. It was refreshing, fun, convicting, hard, fulfilling, mind-expanding.... I really really love these dig-ins I have decided....God has spoken to me through the word in community in incredible ways during these times. I feel so full and satisfied and energized right now...

God was telling me, among other things, that I should stay at Walden School. Behind this is the deeper issue: like Simon the fisherman, will I refrain from making decisions based on what I know/want/will make me comfortable? This is something we say all the time, but Lord it is hard. It is hard for me to not take a job opportunity that I am being so freely and generously offered. It is hard for me to choose to stay in a place where my gifts (as I see them) are not needed/actualized, where I am not respected, a 'ministry of insignificance,' to name a major theme of our time in Luke so far. It is hard for me to decide to serve and commit to a group of people and an institution whose values, personalities, and agendas are so oppositional to my own and uncomfortable for me to work within and among.

I want God's will to be done in my life, but so rarely do I choose against my will and into something that God might be saying to me in subtle ways. Not that God would always have the hardest thing for us. But can I say that I follow Him if I never choose the illogical, the obscure, the insignificant, the inefficient, the uncomfortable?

There was so much God taught me this weekend. Praise Him. I saw our SP community grow so much and take major steps toward becoming a deeper, more vulnerable one....I just have a deep love for all of the guys, and it is so clear that this community is an answer to prayers I prayed back in college. He has been faithful, and I know he will take us together into beautiful things....

"Payatas" by Masaki Matsuo

In the relentless summer heat of Manila, I trembled.

Carefully, I chose my footsteps through the soft mud and trash. I took a quick inventory: an old tire filled with brown water, the skeleton springs of an abandoned mattress, and random debris in various stages of decay. All about, flies circled in mocking dance, sometimes approaching to tickle my flesh. And the smell! Somehow, this place gave it unholy life, attacking my nostrils with an endless barrage. But that is not why I trembled.

It was their eyes.

In the village of Payatas, nobody smiled. Payatas is literally a dump. My eyes followed the mountain of trash towering above the horizon. Far above, I saw large birds circling above a cluster of hunched backs. These people collected this trash as a livelihood. Its diseased water trickled through the village. They lived in ragtag shacks made of concrete, scrap metal, wood, or cardboard. I always knew poverty existed: but nothing could prepare me for this.

In the village of Payatas, nobody approached to greet us with the standard “hallo!” The light in their eyes had long faded; they were eyes familiar with sorrow. Their faces were chiseled with hardship and carved with tears. I did not see hope. I did not hear laughter. And I could not swallow the lump in my throat as I thought about Jesus, “despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; And like one from whom men hide their face. He was despised, and we did not esteem Him” (Isaiah 53:3).

God, how can you allow this?

I clenched my fists and bit back my tears. Inwardly, I shouted. I yelled at God, I accused Him. In furious, righteous anger I pointed my finger at Him. In my inner dialogue, I felt a sudden pause in my Spirit, and I turned to look. For the first time since entering the village, I saw two smiles. I saw two pairs of eyes, still bright, still alive with hope.

I saw two children playing in the trash.

Warm tears came. I could feel my shoulders shake. I emotionally short-circuited. In the flood of anger, grief, confusion, and hopelessness I shut down internally. I could not understand my world anymore. Everything I knew about God, everything I knew about people, and everything I knew about myself shattered. It was as though I felt --for the first time-- the pavement scrape against my elbows and knees. I cried out from the fresh, raw pain of shattered faith. I need a bigger picture of You: A God who can bring restoration to this place, to these people, to me.

Later that day, while eating pizza, Jeremy, Jacob and I talked about Payatas. As we shared about the inadequacy of our former “faith tools” to deal with our experience, we decided to use our imagination. We asked God to help us dream of redemption, to catch a glimpse of New Zion. As we shared our pictures of New Zion, the desert beauty of New Mexico, the dancing forests of Oregon, and the serene Zen gardens of Japan, God began to restore hope in our hearts.

I believe God further answered our prayers that day. On the way back, our team --fourteen of us-- piled into a pickup. With six other men and our leader Tina, I squeezed into the bed of the truck. It began to pour. Shivering and soaking in the torrent of rain, something within us changed. Within minutes, we were shouting greetings at other soaking Filipinos, pointing out funny signs such as “the World’s Greatest Ministry,” and laughing to our heart’s content. It could have been a scene from a movie: A team of young Americans laughing hysterically in the back of a truck while getting soaked in the rain. I bet God was laughing too.

But it could also have been a passage of scripture: A song of gladness ringing throughout New Zion, a shout of joy in the midst of a suffering land, a warm fellowship of the servants of God --all in mustard seed dimensions.

"Payatas"

Trumpet callers, all ya'll holla
callin' all dreamers, alert'n all fighters
send out the drummers, bust out the dancers
drop me a beat, bring it to the street
you'd better fear Him, I said, fear Him, the Lord
cuz this is obvious iniquity
a sick, twisted tragedy
He's had enough of your vanity
and He's bringin' some calamity
He's been watchin' from heaven
and He's comin' to get even
with a mantle of zeal
He's perched for the kill
His threads read wrath
so just wait for the aftermath
cuz we got faith in mustard seed packets
and we won't rest till we drink peace filled glasses
nothing short of transformation
we'll drink to New Zion,
ya'll.

"Reflections on Manila" by Greg Pomrehn

One of the most transforming moments during the trip was visiting a ministry to street children in Quiapo.  I participated in a youth group meeting that was held in a large public square (a much different experience than a church rec room).  There were over 30 kids there from age 4 to 12.  Many have parents who have died, are in jail, or are drug abusers. Many are just severely neglected and have no reason to go home. Most are victims of some sort of abuse. All are desperately in need of love and attention. All are in danger of falling prey to the trafficking of women and children.  My experience that night impressed my heart with something that has remained with me and I realized how significant it was that Jesus let children come to him (Luke 18:16).  

Back in the U.S., I have been living in Northwest Pasadena in a crowded apartment building.  There are often young kids running down the hall.  Before the trip, I would get annoyed when these kids would wonder everyday into our apartment and want to play.  The first week back I invited Juan (a 9-year old) over to play and he brought his 3-year old brother Ramon over as well.  As we played, Ramon (who's mouth was covered in food and hands looked dirty) came up to me and started playing with my beard.  I was reminded of the kids in Quiapo who had done the same just a week earlier.  God has changed my heart towards these kids and now I see them in the hall with joy that I can be a part of their lives.