Glad I Was Invited to This Banquet

I went to Mexico last week looking for direction for my life.

Mariposa Ministry, on-line, was responsible for saving my life and for giving me hope that I could live an abundant life, even with a disability, at a time when I was full of despair.

Born on the border of California and Mexico over thirty years ago as a ministry with disabled teens to explore the spiritual and emotional aspects of disability, Mariposa has grown even as those first teens have grown into middle-aged grandparents.

As I understand the early years, it was never an "organization"... more loosely characterized as a community coming together to share stories and to try to fit those stories into the framework of the larger story of the Gospel. (If the Gospel, as the church proclaims it, isn't perceived as Good News by the least of these-- and so often the message of the church IS hurtful to people with disabilities-- then perhaps our understanding of the Gospel message is deficient. For example, many churches teach that if you have enough faith, God will heal your disability. That creates a terrible tension for a person with a disability who approaches God with a heart full of hope and faith and doesn't receive the healing they anticipated. Is the Good News good enough and are the promises of "abundant life" for people with weak and twisted bodies, people with missing limbs, people born without eyes, etc.? Mariposa Ministry has wrestled with theological questions such as these and through times of deep, heart-wrenching sharing, liberal use of Kleenexes, healing prayer and laughter, the men and women of Mariposa grew and healed and began to live with a sure and certain hope and dignity that they could offer their broken bodies to God as living sacrifices, and God would be pleased and would glorify himself through them. (I'm not just writing as an observer... I am one of "them" and this has been my healing journey, too.)

Fast forward from those early years with awkward teens in the 70's to the present. I was blessed to attend an event in Mexicali this past Saturday "Disability with Dignity" that was a gathering of veteran Mariposa participants who had invited people with all manner of disabilities throughout the city/region to come together to explore what it means to live with a disability. (Mariposa has always been about sharing the gift of healing with others. Some of the first participants became "peer counselors" and traveled the city of Mexicali taking the healing hope to people trapped in poverty, hopelessness, and living lives characterized by indignity.)

Not knowing what to expect (would anybody want to come to such an event? would anybody be able to come given the transportation constraints?) they found a neighborhood center that graciously donated space that would hold the hoped-for fifty participants. The main meeting room was small by US standards and I thought it would be quite "intimate" if 50 people showed up.

Do you know the story Jesus told in Luke 14 where he talks about a rich man throwing a party and telling his servants to go into the highways and byways and not just invite but COMPEL the blind, the lame, the poor to come to the banquet?

I had the joy of seeing that parable brought to life this past Saturday! By mid-afternoon, we estimated that 80 people with disabilities had squeezed into the center. (One or two more wheelchairs and we would have had a traffic jam we'd still be trying to untangle in that room! It was like one of those little, hand-held puzzles with sliding tiles with one empty space for moving the tiles into order.)

Of the 80, I believe I heard that about half were new participants. (My Spanish is very rudimentary.) What was so beautiful and exciting was the vast array of disabilities represented: mobility, vision, cognitive, auditory. What was even more exciting was the sharing in small groups where we found that even though the nature of our disabilities was hugely varied, our thoughts about them, our experiences living with them, our emotions and our questions about God related to them were very similar.

The main activity of the day was to break into small groups of about six people per group and to share answers to a host of questions contained on slips of paper in a baggie. How would the new people respond to these " preguntas metiches" (nosy questions)? Most people with disabilities never have opportunity to talk about their experiences with disability, not even in their families (maybe especially not in their families!) Would people be shell-shocked at hearing such things uttered? Would they retreat? Would it be too much too soon?

It was a pretty daring experiment, but one born of faith, knowledge of the healing power inherent in telling one's story, and wisdom.

Examples of some of the nosy questions (as I remember them:
How do you feel about asking for help? How do you feel when other people try to help you?

What is the worst part about being disabled for you? Do you see any good in being disabled?

It was extraordinary how readily the new participants dove into answering questions. The group in which I participated had 7 participants, three who had never experienced anything like this. ALL shared deeply and I didn't sense any discomfort (unless it was trying to be heard over the noise in the room); rather, I sensed a deep relief and freedom in being able to talk freely about "taboo" subjects. My only frustration with the experience was wanting to talk/listen for hours upon hours more... I saw it just scratching the surface and pray that there will be ample opportunities in the future for people to have opportunity to go deeper.

Lest I am painting a picture of hand-wringing and "serious" times, rest assured, there was an aspect of people taking seriously the questions, but the day was infused with laughter, hugs, old friends connecting, new friends being made, little children playing, praises being sung, and a FEAST! The party went on well into the night. (I asked one man how long parties in Mexico go on. He answered, "Two days!") I'm pretty sure that people departed for only two reasons: 1)They had to because their transportation options were limited, 2)We had to clean the center and return it to readiness for the next day's activities.

As I think back to this day, I will be pondering for a long time to come what was so COMPELLING about that day, and what the church could learn from it. How does the church issue the invitation to the banquet? (Does it issue the invitation? Does it even want those guests? How does it prepare to be hospitable to people with disabilities? Is it nibbling the appetizer at the banquet without fully feasting on all that is offered? Why do people with disabilities not feel compelled to be in church?) Little questions like that.

In the meantime, I am very grateful to have experienced a day full of grace and beauty and want very much to share the gift with others.

Hear that, God? Tell me how... (umm, please!)