August 7, 2007. 6:00a.m. I heard the sound of Alfredo’s car pull up as we gathered up our last few things to make the trip up to Abelines. Two good friends, Jaime and Scott, were ready to head up the hill that six months ago almost took my life. It would be my first venture back up the dirt road that still makes its way into my dreams. Earlier this year I tried to return to Abelines, wanting to attend the dedication of the medical clinic. At 4:30 am that morning Dara awoke, wide eyed and full of anxiety. She informed me that the boys had been up crying the night before and did not want me to go back. I decided the time wasn’t right and listened to her.

This time Dara felt ready. It’s been almost seven months since the incident, and God has done a lot to heal our family. She later admitted that she felt nervous, and she asked that I call her as soon as I made it back down the hill. We told the boys that I was heading into a community, something they’re very used to, but did not tell them that I was going back to Abelines.

The morning was beautiful as we headed east. Large clouds formed like a range of snow capped mountains. I sat in the back seat with Alfredo, the director of operations for ENLACE, and enjoyed catching up on old times with Scott and Jaime who I’ve known for almost fourteen years. Still, I felt tense. The last time I had been on this highway, it was equally as pleasant, but with a treacherous fate. We passed a spot on the road where just the week befor I saw yet another dead body. I’ve seen a few recently, and with each one I am reminded about the crises in this country where death has become all too acceptable.

We made it to Chapeltique in incredible time, a small town at the base of the road leading up to Abelines. As we passed through the cobblestone streets we saw the busy market offering local fruits, vegetables, household supplies, and pirated DVD’s. A line of people formed waiting for the local Western Union office to open. It was a vivid reminder of the growing dependence this economy has on money coming from migrants working in the U.S.

Nelson, a community member from Abelines, had confirmed the day before that he would meet us at the entrance to the dirt road. Ever since my shooting, ENLACE has taken extra security measures when traveling to the community including never entering the dirt road alone. Thankfully my shooting has been the only incident of its kind in ENLACE’s history. However, stories continue to surface about more incidents on the road to Abelines. Last week I talked to our staff doctor who works in the medical clinic, and she shared that there have been two more shootings since mine, both resulting in deaths. Neither were foreigners, but still the stories spooked me and challenged my confidence that it was time to return. Unfortunately, local police are too under resourced to patrol the area and the bandits remain empowered to rob, and even kill.

These stories rushed my head as we arrived to the entrance. Nelson was not yet there because we had arrived so early. We parked our car and got out. I was hit by flashbacks, standing in the exact spot where I had instructed Absa to get out and change the tire locks so that we didn’t ruin my car, all while I was struggling to breath. This feeling was strong, surreal. I looked up the road and remembered vividly our car racing up the hill looking for the hospital, uncertain of my fate. I remembered the choking, the grasping for air, the sense that I was close to death. I also remembered the peace I felt during the entire ride, the feeling that Jesus was sitting right beside me.

We waited for what seemed like hours. In reality it was only twenty minutes. I examined the hillside, overgrown with trees and shrubs. Although beautiful, to me it represented danger, a place for theives to hide and plot out their attack. Each face that passed looked suspicious. I wondered if each person with a cell phone was coordinating with someone else further down the road. I began to recount details of the story to Scott and Jaime. I shared with Scott how strange I was feeling, especially because it was my first return visit. He hadn’t realized this, and began to feel the fear.

Nelson finally arrived with another community member. He looked nervous to me, but I didn’t mention it to anyone. Jaime was determined to drive, yet he soon stiffened and gripped the wheel like a southern NASCAR driver. Nelson’s friend jumped into the back of his truck, standing up with one hand on his machete as we began our journey. The man with a machete brought us a little comfort, but in the back of my mind I braced for another attack. A machete was no match for a hand gun or worse. I’m glad I didn’t know at the time, but Nelson himself has been robbed in the last two months. We slowly made our way through a series of turns, across two rivers, and up intense climbs.

My neck tensed up, and I felt a burning sensation in the spot where the bullet had entered. Three days earlier I had felt the same sensation when a dog jumped out barking at me while I was driving in Las Delicias. Even stranger, as I write this now I feel a tension in my neck and a small sting in the wound. I’ve heard of psychosomatic symptoms, but never really understood how connected our body is to our mind, especially when trauma is involved. This was pain from memory crashing into present day fears. It was for this reason that I had to return to Abelines. I did not want Abelines to only represent the shooting to me. I wanted it to resemble the community I first experienced four years ago when God called me to El Salvador. I wanted again to feel the awe of God’s miraculous hand healing and restoring a war torn country side through the body of Christ.

Scott was extremely chatty, trying to keep our attention diverted from what we all felt. Jaime made sure to keep up with Nelson, stressing each time he advanced out of site. We came close to the place where I was shot. I gripped the back of Jaime’s chair and continued to talk to Scott. As we slowed and entered the turn, I looked into the trees bracing for the worst, hoping for the best. I did not want to stop and take pictures. I wanted to pass quickly. Before long we were on the straight path and past the point where my fears had focused. I smiled, took a deep breath, and began enjoying the faces of people as we drove closer to Abelines.

We made it to the top of a hill that overlooked the entire eastern valley of El Salvador. We could see the base of volcanoes that lined the valley floor, and felt a wonderful breeze that cooled the mountain side. For a moment, I forgot I was in El Salvador. It was no longer the country that had challenged me to my core, the country ravaged by war, poverty, corruption, and death. Instead, it was a magestic landscape, a place to experience the presence of God. We inspected a new tank that was to be part of a new water system for hundreds of families below. The water came from a natural spring miles away, connected by a single run of pipe. The tank was overflowing from the abundance of water above. It was clean, even cold. To me, it represented hope. I thought about the opportunities that people would have as fresh water flowed into their homes. Again, I smiled.

Jaime, Scott, and I all studied anthropology together in college. We read fascinating books about development work, argued vehemently over theory, made bold statements about the way we felt things should be. Fourteen years and a few war wounds later, we stood together on the hill and were quiet. Ideas were far less important then the friendship that has endured. Standing beside them, I felt such joy. They had traveled all this way to walk beside me through my healing. As the breeze blew, we soaked it in. Nelson climbed a tree and offered us mangoes.

We spent the rest of the day visiting projects in Abelines. The new clinic was complete, an amazing testament to the ongoing work of the church. We spoke to a number of people. They were friendly, yet reserved. There was no fan fare, no “welcome back” signs. It felt like nothing had changed because of the shooting. Life continues. It did feel odd. Returning to San Salvador we discussed the response, or lack thereof, to my return to Abelines. Both Scott and Jaime had expected much more emotion from people, even some sort of display of gratitude that I had returned.

I, myself, came in with little expectation. In fact, I did not want to engage much, but more wanted to get the experience over with, to overcome my fears and get home. Yet, I did reflect on how people in Abelines interpret violence. They expressed much remorse the day I was shot. They prayed for me diligently. But, this is a part of the world where mothers have seen their babies murdered. Men have been ripped from families by the army or by guerillas to fight a war that only resulted in pain and death. These families struggle each day to survive as they watch countless neighbors flee to the U.S. to earn an honest wage. They often resign to the daunting fact that struggle and death are just a part of life. Granted, none I’ve met in Abelines are ignorant to the problems that exist in their community with violence and crime. However, in the world they live such problems persist regardless of the countless attempts they’ve made to stop them.

So, I count my shooting a gift. It is the closest I’ve come to understanding what people feel in El Salvador. I’ve experienced, if even only for a short while, the vulnerability one feels when climbing on a city bus, walking down a dirt road, or returning home after pay day. It has challenged my faith, causing me to question God’s goodness. It has tested my belief that Christ is the only answer to heal a suffering world. However, it is producing in me a confidence that I did not have before. It is a confidence in the goodness of a Father that loves me and those around me. He called my family to serve Him in El Salvador. He asked me to trust Him. Through this trial, I’m learning that trust is only authentic when tested by struggle.

Only God could give me the desire to return to Abelines. When we came back down the hill I felt like celebrating. Our enemy, Satan himself, wishes to destroy us. I know that he was after my life that day in January. Since then he has only wanted to discourage, confuse, and tempt me to not trust Jesus. His methods are powerful, but predictable. Instead, the grace of Jesus continues to draw me, and in Him I’ve found peace. I have asked myself often why I remain in El Salvador. At times I’ve wanted to retreat, wanted to run home. But God continues to confirm that His work in me and in our family is not complete. As I trust Him, I feel victory. We defeat Satan with every act of authentic faith. He is powerless against those who have surrendered their entire lives to Christ, and placed their livelihood in His sole care.

I’m not looking forward to the next trial. One has to be sadistic to desire trials in their lives. Pain and struggle hurt, and are not just figments of our imagination. God has created us with a natural desire to avoid danger, avoid known threats, run from pain. However, because our world is in a fallen state due to sin, danger abounds. The question to us as Christians is this… Are we going to trust Christ with everything, especially during pain? Or, are we going to grip the control of our lives, and strive to avoid pain at all costs? If we choose to trust Him with everything we respond to His invitation to have an intimate relationship that includes peace and joy. Be assured this choice will involve struggle, pain, and possibly death. Yet, as promised, when we die to ourselves we gain life in Christ that is abundant. If we choose to control our lives, we will never be content and will never experience the kind of life promised in Scripture. We may avoid pain temporarily, may even experience incredible heights of short lived pleasure. But, our souls will be restless, even tormented at times. In the end we risk everything. Jesus asked what it was worth to gain the whole world but loose one’s own soul.

So I hope to keep trusting Him. I pray that I will continue to empty myself so that Christ may fill me. I want the friendship with Christ that is offered through faith. I plan to go back to Abelines as many times as I can. I want to be a part of God’s plan there. Above all else, I pray that this trial will result in a complete abandonment to my will in return for the amazing life God desires for me. I hope we all can aspire for this together.