So when the one-talent man gets his one talent,
he's scared out of his wits that he may lose it and, instead of shooting for the moon, stuffs it in an old sock and shoots it up the chimney.
Frederick Buechner
A while back I promised you a letter about Bolivian politics, and this is just the time for it.
Because things are heating up around here.
Now, in Bolivia, that's nothing new. Since it became a country in 1825, Bolivia has undergone more than 200 coups and counter-coups. According to my math, that's an average of a governmental overthrow every year. Impressive. But Bolivia isn't Somalia. Most of these coups are bloodless and quick. They're over in a week or two and most people return to their everyday lives of protesting the more mundane aspects of life-the price of bread, for example, or the rise in public transport rates.
This time, however, it might just be different. For almost 200 years the largely indigenous population of Bolivia has been struggling against the largely “white” or Spanish-descendant ruling parties. Now, for the first time ever, Bolivia has an indigenous president-the former coca farmer, soccer and trumpet player, high school dropout Evo Morales. The largely poor indigenous majority have finally found their poster boy, and he's taking the government towards Venezuela, towards Cuba. He wants socialism
What does this mean for us Americans, wedged right in the middle of the most concentrated indigenous city in Bolivia? Not much, yet.
Recently there has been violence on the other side of the country, where people don't really like the president. They've shut down the airport, taken over some of the nationalized businesses, and stolen some prepaid phone cards. They want unbridled capitalism.
And all this tension is coming to a head. When the US ambassador met with the opposition leaders recently, Bolivia kicked him out of the country, claiming he was “causing the division of Bolivia.”
So the US kicked the Bolivian ambassador out of Washington, DC.
Then the Venezuela kicked out their US ambassador, so as to be “in solidarity with Bolivia.”
At this rate they'll probably start shooting spit balls soon.
Now, I want my grandparents and anyone worried about my safety to know we're not being stupid. We have a very sophisticated contingency plan in case things go the Hades, complete with a foolproof evacuation plan (1. Run to the airport fence, a block away 2. Jump the fence 3. Get picked up by the airport police and be on the next plane out). We don't run towards trouble, and we try to be as sly as serpents.
But we're also not going to start like a scared jack-rabbit at the first sign of trouble. God has called us here to Bolivia, and I've notice that God doesn't just call people to safe places. He's a little scandalous that way.
I was reading Frederick Buechner the other day, and he was talking about the parable of the talents. He mentions how shocking it is that the first two servants get rewarded for basically gambling with their master's money. “It is the all-or-nothing ones who are held up as shining examples of what it is to have faith, to have life, to have courage or whatever it is it takes, and the better-be-safe-than-sorry one who gets it in the neck for taking the faith or life or courage or whatever it is he's been given and tucking it under his tail and sitting on it.” After all, Christ gambled on us, so shouldn't we gamble on Him?
Now, I've usually thought of that parable as a commentary on how I use my God-given abilities and talents. Never have I also interpreted is as a commentary on how I use my God-given life and faith. So while trotting the Bolivian red light districts in the midst of deepening division and violence may seem like a wild gamble, it's the gamble I'm called to. I hope in Christ to reap the rewards.