Last year the Cru at my university had a men's retreat in the mountains. The retreat was full of trials and obstacles; challenges, both physical and intellectual. We had to do push-ups and sit-ups, run through the snowy and forested back country, climb rocks, and then memorize scripture and answer personal questions. After that we were handicapped, except not in the way golf uses the term, but in the dictionary definition, where all of a sudden where we were able bodied we were disabled in some way or another. Some were blind folded, some mouths were shut, some had arms tied together, some had nothing. I had three pinecones duct taped onto the palm of my right hand. After this we had to do continue for the second half of the challenges. But this time was harder, naturally. After struggling for awhile, we finally started to get used to our handicaps, and that's when we ultimate challenge came. There was a branch 5 ft in the air supported by two trees and we had to get everyone over the branch without knocking it over. The hard part was, several of the guys who we would consider the "leaders" were either blindfolded or couldn't speak. That forced those who were able to take charge. It was a fun lesson. But all of this was just for contextual description. What I really want to talk about is the challenge after that. The final challenge. We were freed from our handicaps, and had a personal time for reflection and prayer. Then we followed one staff member into a heavily wooded area. He led us to a long line of some sort of hurdle, gate-thing that I think are used in the game of polo. There were about 1ft tall and had Playboy magazines taped to them. We had to crawl underneath the hurdles in the snow and brush, which was already physically demanding, but then the Cru staff members started yelling at us temptations, such as "Come on take a quick peak.", "Wow, she is hot.". Then when we would accidentally glance, they would scream, "Yes! Keep looking, isn't she smokin'?". This continued for maybe 5-10min. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be.
On the sixth day in the Dominican Republic we visited a town named Boca Chica, a town known for its high tourist and prostitution rates. We went on a prayer walk, which I guess is just a walk where you're supposed to be observant and prayerful. During this walk the final trial of the men's retreat came back to haunt me. We walked down the beach and like spectators at a parade, people lined up to watch us. Except we weren't the show; they were. They kept on trying to grab our attention with temptations, "Hey come have a Pina Coloda.", "I have bracelet. Very cheap.", "You like? I have good price." That wasn't all though. Probably more prevalent than the businessmen were the spectators trying to get the attention of the ladies in our group. "Wow! You are so beautiful.", "Won't you give me a kiss?". I even had one guy approach me, and because I taking up the end of the line behind the American women show, say, "Hey man, you are 'da boss." I just nodded at him but shortly afterward I was screaming inside my head, "I'm not the boss, Jesus is 'da boss!"
I grew ever angrier and angrier at the men trying to grab the attention of the girls mainly because of the background information we had received about the city. About how it was not only a city with a high prostitution rate, but a high child slavery and child prostitution rate, with many of the girls that we would be spending time with the next day having been rescued from this area. It's sickening. A girl in our group said that she had heard that the majority of men who buy one of these girls for sex are of the U.S. Republican party. I haven't found any statistics that confirm this statement, but it is true that in 2003 a tanning salon in my peaceful home of Fort Collins, CO was shut down for trafficking children. So it is true that we in the U.S. can be just as morbid as every other human being.
It was interesting to see how different Boca Chica was from every other city we visited in the DR. You could see how Jesus was not very prevalent in this city's history, considering this is one of the few cities where people weren't dressed conservatively. It was in this city where I saw, for the first time, a Dominican man wear shorts. We saw a couple paintings of scenery, some of naked women, and some of cool designs being sold on our walk. But then, oddly, we also saw a couple pictures of Jesus.
Before the walk, a couple of us were playing "A Million Faces". This is a game where you move face; eyes, nose, and mouth around in a very fast and completely random manner while another person takes several snapshots of you from a camera, yielding a very goofy looking picture. We got a pretty good one of me and I decided that when I got back home I would make a Facebook and set that picture as my profile picture. Then just like a Quentin Tarantino film, how things can change from funny to dramatic in any given second, our funny game turned serious when a man came up to us ranting something in Spanish. I listened very carefully as my Spanish is not that great. He basically just asked us if we were Christians. I said that we were indeed Christians. He then started ranting on about the gospel message and about how there is so much sin in the world (specifically the dance clubs), and how God created the world, and how many people think Christians like himself are crazy. I was so busy translating I did a poor job of active listening, and so my only response after all of this was "Exactly". But then we had to go because we did, in fact, have to go.
Although my anger was sparked in Boca Chica, I understand that those who I was angry with were also the ones that I needed to love. The two can be used at the same time, but you have to be careful that your anger doesn't turn into hatred. I once heard someone say, "Hate the sin, love the sinner." But people tend to choose one or the other. I think that most Christian tourists choose the "love the sinner" portions and neglect the other. I think the Dominican ranter would agree, and that's why he was so passionate about the amount of sin in the world. He knows that it's prevalent but many Christian tourists minimalize it and push it aside.
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The rest of the day we spent at the Boca Chica beach resort, which was very weird after spending a week in poverty and experiencing so many emotions. I really didn't want to be there, I wanted to go break into brothels, shut them down, rescue the children, and smash the faces of those who stopped me. I wanted to live in poverty. I wanted to show the rich, white Americans how blind they are to not just the world around them, but to their own backyards! However, God didn't rest on the 7th day because he was tired, but because resting is actually a spiritual discipline, used as a form of worship. The really was very relaxing and nice. After all that playing with kids, it was a nice break. I tried to spend this time with God, praying, acknowledging his beautiful creation, and working out to prepare my body to defend whatever the devil throws my way.
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