Saturday Post -- 02/05/15

Hernán and mother, Zonia.

If you subscribe to FT's Facebook page, you will have picked up on the news earlier in the week that Hernán passed away on Sunday evening.

As mentioned a couple of weeks back, the two of us had begun doing a Bible study together, with Friday afternoon being our agreed time. As it turned out, I spent most of the afternoon touring Trinidad's pharmacies in order to get my hands on some medicine that he needed. He had caught a fever, and was in no shape to cope with the rigours of study, lying on his side with his eyes glazed over in pain. I hoped to return the next day, but not for the first time in past weeks, as one medical worker after another passed through his room, I was struck by the dreadfulness of the condition this 19-year-old found himself in.

In the end, that turned out to be the last I saw of him. His mother let me know over the phone on Saturday that his condition was no better, and on Sunday morning Elías informed the church that things had deteriorated further. Amanda and I were relaxing in front of the TV on Sunday evening when we received word of his passing.

Here in Bolivia, the first thing to do in the event of a friend's death is to find out where the wake is, and head there directly; for a culture which can be laid-back at the best of times, such occasions are organised with remarkable haste. So at 11pm, we found ourselves gathered with friends and family in a small church, his casket front and centre, as the rest of us sat quietly while being offered refreshments (it's also customary to bring food here). 

Normally, the internment would go ahead the following day, but with many family members having to travel from the village of San Ignacio (about four hours' drive west), it didn't take place till Tuesday morning. Amanda and I had agreed to transport mourners to the funeral, which usually means turning up at the wake venue and then joining the caravan of vehicles which will trundle along slowly to Trinidad's cemetery. This time, however, the caravan took an unexpected turn into Trinidad's central plaza, with the hearse (or, more accurately, black flat-bed truck) parked outside the cathedral. It turned out Hernán's father had requested a Requiem Mass.

The non-Catholics among us sat on the benches for about 40 minutes before the casket emerged and was re-placed in the truck for its final journey. Upon arriving at the cemetery, I was handed a guitar that someone had sourced and asked to accompany some hymns, including 'When the Roll is Called up Yonder' and 'Because He Lives'. This would normally take place during the internment but, as it was raining heavily, we did this at the entrance to the cemetery where there is the shelter of a high roof. Finally, the party embarked on the ten-minute walk to arrive at the corner of the cemetery where Hernán's hole-in-the-wall was located. And, as is increasingly customary here, the silence was only broken by a strange mix of hearty wails and mobile phones being answered.

The official mourning process here takes place so quickly that it is only afterwards that one can really start contemplating what has just happened, and inevitably the, "Why, God?" questions have surfaced in our minds this week, with such a vital flame being snuffed out so suddenly. 

Of course, we may not know all the answers to those questions in the near future, or even in this life. But we trust there is a purpose, and have seen hints of that during the last three months. For a young church such as ours, Hernán's illness was a great proving-ground for the quality of our compassion for others (especially during the time he spent at FT) and Amanda and I were continually taken aback by the exceeding generosity of the church membership. But this wasn't simply a case of passing a bucket around to raise funds. Rather, our brothers and sisters were continually visiting Hernán and individually providing for specific needs, whether helping with his physio, or making food for the family.

Ours was not the only church to rally around the cause, and although Hernán had a casual church connection, he probably had more exposure to pastors and parishioners in his final months as he did in the 19 preceding years. We don't know if he had made a commitment before this stage, but it was clear from conversations that Elías and I had with him in the final weeks that his trust, by this point, was in the Lord.

The great sadness of this time, however, is that, as Amanda put it to me earlier this week, being on the receiving end of such an injury in a place like Trinidad is something of a death-sentence in itself. Never mind the total lack of societal infrastructure to cope with the reality of disability; accounts of Hernán's 'care' that have emerged from his time in hospital have been truly eyebrow-raising. Thus, we mourn his passing but we are also thankful that he is truly 'in a better place'. That's a phrase that we western Christians are at times perhaps guilty of uttering with a touch of glibness; some of us are so content with this life that we secretly worry about the 'quality of life' to come. No chance of that here.

Prayer

• Naturally, we would ask that you remember Hernán's family in your prayers. They, too, have had great exposure to gospel workers in this time. Pray that they would be comforted, and that they would feel the impact of such visits in the days to come.
• Sunday sees a second round of the by-election, meaning that we cannot meet as a church during the day. However, we will be getting together once again in the evening to share a meal together and give thanks for the Lord's faithfulness over the church's ten years of existence.

Praise

• After a month of waiting, the Langham committee finally received word this week that the retreat centre we had requested had been granted to us for the proposed four-day preaching conference in early June (the civil service here is intensely political, and so the recent spate of elections was a factor in dragging out this process). The planning committee, which Craig heads up, will be meeting this week to discuss final preparations; prayer appreciated for that.
• Finally, for the non-Facebookers, here are some pictures of the latest addition to the Cunningham clan. Genghis (who, like older brother Arturo, is named after a great warrior-king; it only seemed right) is six weeks old and enjoys car rides, taking power-naps on his Costa Rica towel, and chewing on fingers which he thinks are teats. We're looking forward to seeing how this one turns out. 

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda