I'M JUST NOT A CITY GIRL

This morning over coffee Brandon and I were talking about the city of Porto Alegre, where we live in Brazil. He was lamenting a bit. He misses the city. One of his favorite activities to manage stress was to walk around the city. With every block there is something new to see—a never-ending sea of exploration. 

He said to me, “it’s interesting that I never hear you say you miss the city.” This is true. I don’t miss the city. For me the city is a place of stress and anxiety. The density, the traffic, the crowds, and the potential to get lost at every outing all play on my anxieties. Sometimes these are anxieties that I am familiar with, such as finding crowds to be unpredictable and dangerous, which comes from my upbringing in Kenya. Other times my anxieties surprise me, because I didn’t even know they existed until they hit me in Porto Alegre, like entering a parking garage and fearing how to get out or riding in an Uber alone and wondering if I'll make it to my destination. 

I have never sugarcoated that living in a city with a couple million people is not for me. I have often told people that when we first arrived on our vision trip back in 2016, I concluded very quickly, while looking out my hotel window at the busy street below, that this city was too big and too busy for me. If I only looked at the city itself, I knew I would never want to come back. 

But I did come back, not just to visit, but to live.

Do I miss the city? No. Will I ever miss it? Who knows? But the reason I went to Porto Alegre in the first place was not for the city, but for the people. And when Brandon then asked me if I miss the people and churches of Porto Alegre, my answer was a resounding YES! 

I miss my friend Abigail and our talks about the way God can and will provide for our needs. I miss sitting down with her and asking BIG things from God and waiting expectantly for those things to come to fruition. And I miss celebrating when those things do come, even if they arrive in a different way than we expected.

I miss having God be the center of conversations among brothers and sisters. Talking about where they have seen God as work, where God has used them, and how they have found ways to come alongside those in need. I miss hearing stories of people making two lunches, one for them and one to carry with them with the prayer that they can bless someone on the street with that meal. 

I miss the compassion and love that Brazilians have for their neighbors. The Christians that sing outside of an elderly person’s window who has been in quarantine. The distribution of meals, and providing a safe and warm place for street people to come in and see the hands and feet of Jesus at work. 

I miss my neighbors who always greeted me with a smile and a hello, and were always willing to share with us when we were out of some ingredient while cooking and didn’t have time to run to the store, and then being able to help them when they were in the same situation. 

I miss the way the church worships. There is an overwhelming feeling that all are welcome in the church. I love that when it is time to worship the doors to our city church remain wide open for anyone off the street to see what we are doing inside. I miss the hugs and kisses (pre-pandemic) and also the eyes smiling behind masks and the elbow bumps during the pandemic. I miss the way the church came together in unity and in love to see how they may best show their unsaved neighbors that even in the hardest of times God is still good. 

I miss corporate prayer. Time spent with each other lifting up both praise and prayer requests before the throne. Each one voiced. Each one taken into account. Each one mourned over when needed, and celebrated when appropriate. 

The church is a place of solace, of rest, of comfort, of peace, and of unity. Christians there, who are busy with day to day life, look for ways to spread the good news that Christ offers salvation by grace. I miss the unity that is achieved when people give up their own rights at the foot of the cross, so that the message of Jesus doesn’t get drowned out.  It reminds me of a song that God has recently placed on my heart: 

We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord

We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord

And we pray that our unity will one day be restored

And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love

Yeah they'll know we are Christians by our love.

In stressful times it is easy to get caught up in the things that are going on around us. I think of when Jesus was in the garden about to be arrested and Peter drew his sword ready to fight, even cutting off a man’s ear. Jesus’ response was one of love and compassion. He stopped the commotion and healed one of the men who was there to arrest him. Our savior modeled calmness in the storm and offered peace in the chaos. 

What a beautiful thing it is that God has not lost control. We can trust in him, to lay down our swords and our rights at the foot of the cross, so that we as his people can show unity and love to a lost world in a time of chaos. 

May we as a global church find a way to seek unity and compassion for those hurting around us, and be a people of peace who offer hope to the world. May the messaging of the hope of the cross be louder than our opinions, and not be drowned out by our fears

No, I don't miss the city. But thanks be to God he never called me to a concrete jungle of traffic, but to a beautiful and resilient group of people. I have learned much from them.