Pan de Vida (The Bread of Life)

Pan de Vida (The Bread of Life)

"I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty."

I’ve been stateside for about a month now and must admit that I am suffering from an acute case of reverse culture shock. I thought that as a means of reliving the journey and restoring my spirit that I would continue to write about the adventure. So, tHIS is the rest of my story.

Several weeks into the start of living in Quito and thrashing against the disparity of the streets our group of cultural exchange students (extranjeros) stumbled upon a ministry reaching out and ministering to Quito’s impoverished, blessing society’s untouchables, loving the downtrodden, clothing the naked, and feeding the starving. Our hearts couldn’t help but be shaken; utterly surrendered to such endearing love and completely captured by such redeeming grace. I soon found that I breathed Pan de Vida for the outrageous laughter of children who otherwise would not know how to smile, for the worship experience where congregants revealed that there is no height nor depth to their praise and neither life nor death could separate them from the love of Christ Jesus without which they would not know how to go on living, for the hearty rice, beans, and fried plantains which signaled the abundance of the harvest and clung to the ribs of those who haven’t tasted such nourishment in days if not longer; but, especially, for the fact that there was not a single moment when I wasn’t fully aware of the truth that I was in the presence of our Mighty God and; therefore, should be on my knees.

The Word takes on new meaning, maybe something closer to its original intent, when you proclaim the Good News of the Gospel before the desperate, starving, and ragged by saying, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes” (Luke 12:22-23). Speaking from the comfort of my luxurious lifestyle, I see the poeticism of Jesus’ teaching, but for a woman like Gladys I was afraid Jesus’ message might overstretch its mark. A single mother of two, whose rent on a one room, dirt floor, alleyway lean-to was backed up, whose daily life was pedaling raveled, alpaca scarves on the streets as a member of the millions who compose Ecuador’s informal street economy. A mother, whose worry was not the melodrama of what to do with her life and what it means, but how to survive the living of it. Talk of a poor and jobless economy, excessive prices and stacked bills, and overwhelming debt are not haunting demons for Gladys because she has never known a life with anything else. How do you tell a mother who is suffering with the task of feeding her starving children not to worry? The answer for the struggling members of Pan de Vida is simple, you don’t have to. They know that God’s faithfulness is GREAT, so theirs is too. They believe (period). I have seen faith and faithfulness on steroids, if you will; a trust in God that surpasses Jepthath’s blind obedience and echoes a more resounding devotion that remembers God’s promise and affirms God’s provision, deliverance, and sustenance. In a society where what you wear and what you carry on your person makes you a daily target, you don’t have to explain about a treasure that no thief can come near. I have witnessed those whose hearts are stored in Christ Jesus because it is evident that the Truine God is their soul treasure. They know a life without the hope of Christ to be sheer misery.

My very first day at Pan de Vida, I was asked to pray in a Sunday school room full of all ages of small children. It was the very first time I had ever prayed publicly in Spanish and my voice was quivering. God gave me the words to converse in a language that was slowly become more and more familiar. I admit that I looked up a time or two to gage the reaction of the room and I was greeted by an abundance of curiously peeking eyes as well. We held a lesson on what it means to love one another and then drew hearts with broken crayons on previously used pieces of paper. Sitting in child sized chairs my friend and I were swarmed by little hands, little hugs, and little kisses. There was a set of twins who were fourteen and one of the girls, Catarina, was particularly glued to me. She wore what had one time been white, knee high socks, a plaid skirt, and a chewed navy sweater. Her face was smudged by days of dirt and her dark hair swept back into a single braid that had become severely matted at the nape of her neck from a neglectful lack of attention. Once she latched onto my hand, it seemed she just couldn’t bear to let it go.

We went outside to break bread together and the children received a juice box, piece of bread, and a citrus. We sat around and laughed as the kids would shout out a word in Spanish and then want to know its English equivalent. Tricky situations would arise as they would plead to know what a granadilla is in my native language and I would have to explain that there is no word because, much to their devastating dismay, no such fruit exists in the U.S. or EE.UU.

Catarina had stayed by my side and when she came back from throwing her trash away she sat down in my lap. I began to pick through her matted hair, strand by strand. Every now and then she would lean back against me, look up and just smile. As I held Catarina, I prayed a special blessing upon her life, a beautiful child who knows too much despair and not enough love, but who God has not forgotten. I couldn’t help but repeat, Thank you GOD for sending me, Thank you God for sending me. In that moment I knew what it is to feel the instantaneous reception of grace, to feel what it is to be graced with grace upon grace upon grace.

To hear the origin story told by founder, Oscar Aguirre, a young Ecuadorian businessman, who was approached by a 12-year-old boy, Juan Alpapucho, while leaving church one day; it was a case of call and response. Juan was one of Quito’s many shoe shine boys wandering the streets with polish stained hands and red rags supplicating to clean the shoes of the rich for a mere quarter. Oscar recalls the shame while he waited for his shoes to be shined and watched the beggars at the gate of the church weighing heavy on his heart, he thought, “Lord, here I am, a 33-year-old man, with a master’s degree and my own company, but what’s more a Christian, and here is this little boy cleaning my feet.” He asked Juan when he had last eaten and when the frail boy couldn’t remember Oscar walked with Jaun to a nearby bakery. Juan first refused to enter, saying the clerk would chase him out as street children aren’t allowed to enter the shop, but they walked in together and for fifty cents, Juan had lunch.

The very next Sunday, Oscar brought him a children’s Bible, and Juan brought three more hungry children. As they received their bread, one of them prayed for Oscar and thanked God for his kindness in buying them bread, and something happened in Oscar’s heart. He approached the English Fellowship Church board, asking for help in starting a feeding program for the area’s poorest on Sunday mornings. He was given time in the pulpit to ask for volunteers. And Pan de Vida, the Bread of Life ministry that meets the hunger and hopelessness of Quito’s poor was born.

In 2001, Pan De Vida had its first meeting in a driveway where less than twenty people attended. The menu was scrambled eggs with ham, rice, a banana, a piece of bread and a glass of milk. They sang some hymns and share a short Bible message. Nowadays, Pan de Vida serves about 1350 meals per month and has reached as many as one hundred and eighty in a single meeting. Pan de Vida is very blessed by partnerships with some very prominent organizations like Extreme Response International, Samaritans Purse, and Canada’s Mustard Seed.
The ministry of Pan de Vida reminds me of the tropical version of Calvary UMC’s Food Pantry which provides boxes of food to those in need in the Staunton, Waynesboro, and Stuarts Draft communities. Pan de Vida’s meal is prepared and served instead of sent home because many times there is no home to send it to or no stove to heat it on. While volunteers sliced onions, peppers, and tomatoes and boil vats of rice, others lead praise and worship, and teach Sunday school lessons to both children and adults. Pan de Vida, just like Calvary’s Food Pantry, is not just about feeding God’s children who are hungry, but about loving them and witnessing to and with them; giving the gift of the Gospel.

I was issued a very powerful call from the pulpit by one of my pastors at my home church Calvary UMC before my departure. It was a call for the New Year that we may know and love the poor as brother and sister. What made the message so compelling was the fact that the lips from which they were delivered have kissed the wounds of the broken, whispered love to the unwanted, and spoken the radical truth of the Gospel setting a living example of what it is to model the way of being in relationship with and loving the downtrodden. I found myself recycling the words throughout my time in Ecuador and Pan de Vida became a blessed gateway for such relationships. After a multitude of invitations into humble, Ecuadorian homes, I realized just how many moments there are to be love instead of charity, to be Christ instead of the crucifixion, to be justice instead of the judge. I experienced a love that was rawer than ever before. A love that like the cafecitos we shared was bold, pure, sweet, concentrated and overall, extremely rich. A love that was not afraid to welcome me, a foreigner, into the confines of a cramped, dirt floored temple, a love that was not frightened by the vulnerability of praying intimate desires and shames of the heart, a love that trembles in the offering; risking and giving everything and not wanting for anything.

Shane Claiborne, servant, missionary, and author of, "The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical" says, “I had come to see that the great tragedy of the church is not that rich Christians do not care about the poor but that rich Christians do not know the poor. Once the rich truly know the poor, there will be no more poverty;” he’s surely right.

Pain plagues this world, but I’ve realized that bargaining with God is cheap and pointing fingers at God is self-condemning. We always seem to make halfhearted, faulty promises as a means of supplication for our own wills that are sure to make Abraham and God chuckle, then we have the nerve to question God when we don’t understand the world. Why God, are children starving and why God, are people poor? Maybe, we should ask ourselves those questions and be a little more demanding of one another.

"And that’s when things get messy. When people begin moving beyond charity and toward justice and solidarity with the poor and oppressed, as Jesus did, they get in trouble. Once we are actually friends with the folks in struggle, we start to ask why people are poor, which is never as popular as giving to charity. One of my friends has a shirt marked with the words of late Catholic bishop Dom Helder Camara: “When I fed the hungry, they called me a saint. When I asked why people are hungry, they called me a communist.” Charity wins awards and applause but joining the poor gets you killed. People do not get crucified for living out of love that disrupts the social order that calls forth a new world. People are not crucified for helping poor people. People are crucified for joining them." — Shane Claiborne (The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical)

Shane Claiborne wrote to Mother Theresa to ask about her ministry and she gave the age old response “come and see,” so Shane went to serve alongside her in India and his book seems to echo her message on mission and ministry. Shane Claiborne quoting Mother Theresa, "Calcuttas are everywhere if only we have eyes to see. Find your Calcutta." I encourage you; find your Pan de Vida.

I’m thankful that the most important thing God was teaching me in Ecuador was not Spanish, but how to be a better servant for the Kingdom.

If you are ever in Ecuador, by all means, travel and revel in the undiscovered gems that she is; climb the roaring volcanoes, snorkel in the exotic Galapagos, immerse yourself in the living indigenous cultures, journey to the Amazon and soak in the most biodiverse hectare of land in the world, but if you want to change your life, if you want to upset the very nature of your being, go to the corner of Brasil y Americas with willing hands and an open heart and be transformed. The height of your joy and the depth of your despair will never quite emote the same and Christian love will never run so deep.

So take up your cross and follow Jesus into the slums of the poor and the homes of the broken.

Spread the WORD. Be a witness.

Andean High

Estoy en Quito. Hola from 2,850 meters or nearly 10,000 feet!

I was literally on the midnight flight into Quito, which coincided with a customs pile-up, so it was even later in la madrugada than expected when I met my host dad, Edi, more fondly known as papí (Pop*ee). My mamí (mom*ee), Doris, wasn’t there because I have a two year-old little sister and a baby brother on the way, (Juaquin is expected to arrive at the end of January or the first week in February), but she was waiting for me when we got home. My Ecuadorian parents are very loving and affectionate and from the very first instant it was obvious that I had been adopted into their family as their oldest daughter. We had a great introductory chat (which went well since I had eleven hours of rehearsal on the plane). But, I must admit I totally had that low moment; you know the one in the Atlanta airport after you have just heard the voice of your hysterically crying mom for the last time. Before you drop off the grid for the next 4 ½ months and disappear into the unknown crevices of a foreign country. Yeah, that miserable moment where I was totally like, this was a mistake, what was I thinking? I can’t do this!

Cue God…. Oh wait, God never needs a stage direction to enter the scene.

When I arrived at my seat I discovered the lovely face of my fellow Hokie and sweet sister in Christ, Carly, and everything was suddenly better. I would say what a fortunate coincidence, but as another one of my beautiful B-stud (cool chrisitanese term for Bible Study we like to throw around on the college campus) sisters in cru. always says, “There are no such things as coincidences, there’s just Jesus.” So, it was totally a “just Jesus” moment where I was reassured by the Holy Spirit that I was meant to dive into studying abroad, learning Spanish, and serving in Ecuador as a part of being called into God’s Global Ministry.

In between our excited nervous chatter, we realized the very eloquent Spanish speaking man to our left (who had ridiculously bilingual and adorable children) was wearing a Virginia Tech class ring. Of course, we had to ask. He was a GTA in the history department who studied at USFQ for a semester, where he met his wife. They had just finished visiting family in Lynchburg and were heading home to Quito where they have lived for the past twelve years. Come to find out his son, Wesley, is named after John and Charles Wesley because his father is an ordained Methodist minister in the Virginia Conference and he is a Pastor who leads youth ministry in Ecuador! He gave us a rundown of the city, things we must do, dangers to guard against and offered a glimpse into Ecuadorian culture; so, both encounters were really fun and unexpected blessings, but then again that’s how God works, unexpectedly.

This morning I woke up to squealing and cluttering from the breakfast table and emerged to meet my little sister, Rebeca (Bequí), who was dressed in Disney princess pajamas and was chanting Raquel. She was wearing a bib that said, abrázame (hug me), so I did, and received a really sweet little beso (kiss). As we continued our get-acquainted conversation over a delicious fresh, fruit salad with mango, kiwi, banana, papaya, and apple, a fuzzy Elmo slipper snuggled with me under the table.

The view from our seventh floor apartment of the northern part of Quito, the airport, and the mountains is quite gorgeous. The very first morning the snowcapped volcano, Cotapaxi, was visible, but since it has been high in the nubes (clouds). Given this fact, the first thing you will undoubtedly notice in Ecuador is that one single flight of stairs feels like thirty minutes on the elliptical. Needless to say, the altitude here takes some adjustment.

Mis papís took me on a short ride through our part of the city and we had a fun seafood lunch. I became acquainted with a ceviche which is a very typical Ecuadorian dish. The most popular ceviches are made with camarón (shrimp) which swim in a lemon/lime juice (in Spanish lemon and lime are the same word, limón, how incredibly efficient or inefficient rather, depending on how you look at it) with onions, cilantro, and it is customary to put popcorn in it! It was unusually delicious with a mezcla única (unique mixture) of flavors. ¡Que rico!

The first evening I met both sides of my extended family at separate get-togethers. It was quite overwhelming, but very loving and lively. At first I thought that we were gathering as family for a special occasion, but now I realize being surrounded by relatives is an everyday occurrence for my Ecuadorian family; whether it is an afternoon cafecito, a late night postre (dessert), or a quick game of tennis on the wii. It is such a blessing to be adopted into an amazing, adoring, and larger than life family here in Ecuador. It is such a wonderful reminder of home. Praise be to God!

Ecuadorian table manner tip of the day: when consuming food, especially homemade meals, you must say, ¡Que rico! at least six times to appear decently appreciative and satisfied. Seriously.

Happy New Year

The New Year is a very symbolic time. It is a special moment that marks the past year and steps forth with a hopeful hint of anticipation into the unknown, the year to come. For me, New Year’s is usually a very special night filled with friends and family; a time of celebration, but most importantly, a time to be immersed in prayer. This New Year’s Eve was momentous in a very different sense, in that, I experienced what is widely known as, a meltdown.


On January 1, 2010, I embarked on what would be my Ecuadorian Adventure for a semester abroad as un estudiante intercambio cultural (cultural exchange student) at Universidad San Francisco de Quito, (http://www.usfq.edu.ec/ ) officially launching my number one 2010 New Year’s Resolution: actually learn to speak some Spanish.


Every year I make grandiose resolutions promising to do this or resolving to get better at that to absolutely no avail. This New Year’s I went ahead and pushed my resolution off a cliff, you know, to give it a head start and there is most definitely no turning back now. I have been ‘studying’ (jaja) Spanish since 8th grade and have now completed my minor from Virginia Tech. I can write an excellent, very longwinded, Spanish term paper, but can’t seem to muster a simple sentence without fumbling all over myself. Que ridículo, no? So, on the eve of 2010, in the face of the overwhelmingly new year which would bring with it a new country, a new city, a new family, a new university, a new language, a new culture, and ultimately a new adventure; I was furiously packing whilst trying to quell my nerves and mitigate the onset of tears.


In the depths of my emotional vitality, I discovered a prayer conveniently tucked between Psalm 62 and 63 of my study Bible and I prayed it over and over again.

My prayer for 2010:

May God bless us with discomfort at
easy answers, half truths, and
superficial relationships, so that we
may live deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger at
injustice, oppression, and exploitation
so that we may work for
socioeconomic justice for all people.

May God bless us with tears to shed for
those who suffer from pain, hunger,
homelessness and rejection, so that we
may reach out our hand to comfort
them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with enough
foolishness to believe that we can
make a difference in the world so that
we can do what others claim cannot be
done.

~ Education for Justice

So here’s to taking foolishly daring steps in the name of service and to LIVING THE VISION.

May 2010 truly be a Year of the Lord’s Favor filled with recklessly radical obedience to God and the beautiful blessings of unfailing love, flowing grace, unequivocal mercy, deeply rooted faith, blind trust, and luminous hope.

Salud y feliz año nuevo