Travel and Verse

stories of travel, medical missions, and more

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How to Save the World and the Best Things First

December 1, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Back to Peru, part 6

I recently spent some time in the Peruvian jungle. Every year, I work with a medical team, bringing healthcare and the Gospel to a people who need both. Here’s a few tales.

I suppose this is a kind of book review. But first, let me explain…no, there is too much, let me sum up (unabashed Princess Bride Quote):

No matter which part of the United States you live in, getting to and from Peru is a hassle. Getting there takes me about 16-18 hours. But getting home runs roughly 24 hours of straight travel. And that’s if everything goes smoothly (and it rarely does). Perhaps that is why I reclined on the floor of the Miami airport, staring blankly at the screen mounted my gate. The time of departure delayed even later. What was supposed to be a seven-hour layover, was now building up to 11 hours. Nearly two weeks in Peru wore on me. And even though this trip to Peru is the highlight of my year, I longed to be home.

Our team had treated just under 200 patients in a weeklong medical campaign push up the Las Piedras River. This year, the prep work and post-clinic cleanup and briefing was almost as tough as the clinic we hosted in the deep jungle.

The people in this part the jungle receive very little medical care and even less spiritual care. Needless to say, they have many needs. This begs a question: which needs do we strive to meet? What’s the best thing for a people on the brink? And if we are fortunate to discover what those needs are, how do we as Christians meet them on a sustainable level?

I pondered questions like these while I sat on the floor in my semi-filthy jungle clothes, waiting for a flight home.

I began to doze when I was interrupted by a tall, nicely dressed man who sat down right next to me on the floor. We said hi and mutually bemoaned the unreliable nature of travel in a post-Covid world. We appeared to be two very different people. This guy seemed to be a business man. And me, not so much. He asked about my work and why I was traveling. If there is one thing I love to talk about, it’s Peru. Each year I travel to the jungle to help a people who desperately need it. And I told him so. People tend to gloss over if I ramble about anything. But this guy was on the edge of his seat.

Photograph by R Mathiasson

Suddenly it was my turn. I asked and he introduced himself as Bjorn Lomborg. He said that he worked for a “think-tank” and hailed from Denmark.

“That’s the kind of answer I’d expect from a CIA agent,” I joked. He only laughed and assured me that he was indeed not a CIA agent.

Throughout our conversation, he asked pertinent questions about Peru:

“Do you see any leishmaniasis?”

“How many patients have you seen with tuberculosis?”

 “Is there any follow-up with patients?”

“How do you know you’re meeting their needs?”

Most people I talk to don’t ever go this deep. And these were all good questions.

And after a while, it clicked where I’d seen Bjorn. He had been a guest on the Joe Rogan podcast. And most recently, I thought I’d seen him speak in an interview with Jordan Peterson.

Bjorn works with the think-tank Copenhagen Consensus Center and has written various books on topics such as climate change and environmentalism. His questions came from a place of knowledge and actual concern. And as I (finally) boarded my plane to come home, I clicked the Buy it Now button on my Kindle to read his latest book during my flight.

And here’s that book review I promised you.

I won’t try to completely explain Best Things First by Bjorn Lomborg. His background and knowledge on global environment economics are way out of my league. But like Indigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, Bjorn sums it all up nicely in the very first paragraph of the book.

“We all want a better world. Unfortunately, our efforts are often hampered by wanting to achieve not just some but all good things at once, many of which are near-impossible, prohibitively expensive, or terribly inefficient, or all at once.” (Lomborg, 21)

He speaks to the UNs Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and gives his own responses. The UN has attempted to tackle something in the neighborhood of 1,400 goals to bring the world out of poverty, hunger, destitution, and simply make the world a better place.

Long story short, it’s not happening. I know it’s shocking, but the UN and all the hoards of this world’s politicians are simply not delivering on promises to improve the world.

Bjorn’s response? Let’s tackle the goals that will have the biggest impact on the world in the best way possible, as fast as possible. If we are going to spend heaps of money to make the world a better place, let’s spend it on the things that will make the greatest difference. He outlines 12 areas of change, such as tuberculosis, education, and trade.

He goes into great detail in each of these areas. I won’t go deep right now. If you want to know something about how we as the human race can make the world a better place, I highly recommend Bjorn’s book. It’s detailed, specific, and scientific. Be warned, tis quite heady.

My chat with Bjorn and reading his book challenged me as a Christian too. How do we save the world? Christians innately value more than just this present world. We are concerned for the soul. And yet, Jesus came feeding people and healing the sick.

As a follower of Christ, what am I called to do? There seems to be a rift between two trains of thought in Christianity. Some would say that Christian’s should focus only on preaching the Gospel. Others would say that humanitarianism is our greatest calling.

Our Great Commission is to, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matt 28:19)

Indeed our concern is for souls. People need to realize that there is more to this world than the present. And Christ is not willing that any should perish in Eternity to come.

And yet, I think Bjorn makes an excellent point in a later chapter of his book.

“For many people in the poorer world, concerns for the future are strongly overshadowed by immediate and urgent concerns about illness, education, housing, or putting food on the table.” (Lomborg, 273)

But I have good news. Earlier in Mattew, it teaches that when we clothe and feed others, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” (Matt 25:40)

Treating the bodies of a Peruvian family with tuberculosis, and speaking the truth of Christ’s eternal salvation are not mutually exclusive. As Christians we are not simply called to do one or the other. We do each through the other. We feed and clothe and treat the ill because it’s as if we are doing so for Christ Himself. And we make disciples by speaking the Gospel, all in our own kind of “Sustainable Development Goal.”

How do we save the world?

We save the world like Christ saved (saves) the world. We come healing, and feeding, and preaching, and teaching. Bjorn wrote about 12 goals that make the greatest impact for people and world economics. For us Christians, the “Best Things First” certainly may include each of these goals. But the overall Best thing, is meeting needs in concert with the message that Christ, “came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:10)

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series:

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Part 3, Leaving soon

Part 4, A Tale of Two Boats

Part 5, Coconuts, Rats, and What We Give

Coconuts and Rats and what we Give

September 1, 2023 / / 2 Comments

Travel Journal, 133

Back to Peru, part 5

I recently spent some time in the Peruvian jungle. Every year, I work with a medical team, bringing healthcare and the Gospel to a people who need both. Here’s a few tales:

 

I literally had a person tell me to have a “good vacation” right before I left for Peru. A smile came to my face and I nodded, saying I would do just that. But vacation is certainly a grave misjudgment of what we do in Peru. Do I have fun? Of course, heaps of fun. But don’t get me wrong, this is work—the Lord’s work.

Let me paint a picture:

After nearly 18 hours of travel, the plane poked through the clouds, revealing the snaking Madre de Dios River. My last leg included sitting in the very last seat on the plane, right next to a poopy little baby. We pick up our checked baggage of medical supplies and other stuffs for the week, meet the local missionary, hop in the taxi, and bustle off in a flurry of dust and travel-weariness. What comes next, you ask. A nap perhaps? Or maybe a shower? But the only thing on my mind is the mission. For the next week and a half our team will need to prep and execute a mobile clinic in villages along 250 miles of river. And the prep weighs very heavy in my mind right now. Tents need to be organized. Medications need to be readied. Pills need to be separated into patient-packs, ready to distribute. It’s hours of work and organization that has gotten easier as the years have passed.

The team slowly trickles into the country. Each new team member experiences the same thing as me. We land. We work. Clinic is coming. Will we be ready? Will everything fall into place? Will God do his work? We know the answer. But we’re nervous, nonetheless. Each of us possesses gifts; we have some way to contribute. But we have doubts whether those gifts are sharp enough, ready to use. But all want to give what we can to get this thing done. And as we finish up prepping and stand at the edge of clinic week, we’ve already given much of ourselves. This is no vacation. This is work—good work—the Lord’s work. But work, definitely.

The night before we packed up our boats and started hosting clinics along the Las Piedras River, I stood talking on the phone outside the house where I was staying. I was catching up with the little woman when a dog walked around the corner.

Peru has a ton of dogs. And one of them came up to me and dropped a dead rat at my feet. I stood looking at this offering of Peruvian benevolence while the dog gazed at me questioningly.

I had questions of my own.

“Is this it? Is this how I live? I give all that I have: time, money, and strength. And how does Peru repay me?”

Rats

It was a momentary thought. I don’t really feel like that. But for a moment, I wondered if what we do is worth the trouble. Any questions lingering in the back of my mind were answered later in the week.

When our boats pull up to a village, we unload our gear and begin the process of setting up for clinic. I readied my station: triage and registration. (Every patient being seen comes to me first. We take their vital signs, talk about any medical complaints, and direct them to see the doctor, dentist, vision, ect.) It was a brutally hot day. We carried everything up to the village and clinic was ready to go. I looked over a half wall, out into the village. A lady stood there staring at me. She just looked intently at me.

“I know you. You have been here several times! Thank you for coming!”

She was right. I had been here. And since I’m being honest, I should tell you that I didn’t recognize her. But being there and doing the work mattered to her.

It was sweet and refreshing.

And later in the week, another lady walked up to me and said almost the same thing.

“I know you. Thank you for coming!”

She then shoved a coconut into my arms. My sleep deprived and overworked mind nearly let burst a levy of tears.

Is all the work worth it? Not only are these people getting physical help. They are also hearing the Good News of Christ. So obviously it is worth the work.

But do I only get rats in return?

There’s a passage in Hosea that had read after clinic had ended and we were making our way further along the river.

God says in Hosea chapter 6, “I desire loyalty and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

We may think our sacrifice is the most valuable thing about us during this clinic week, or even in our Christian lives. But God requires our devotion more than anything. He wants our entire being.

We may find rats along the way. But God promises far more. Hosea goes on,

“Let us strive to know the Lord. His appearance is as sure as the dawn. He will come to us like the rain, like the spring showers that water the land.”

He refreshes us like rain and springs showers. He gives us the sweetness of coconuts and Peruvian smiles. And all he requires is a loyal heart and a life steadily seeking Him.

So even though it’s a ton of work, and there may be rats along the way, what we give is far less than what Christ gives us. During our clinics he gave the Peruvian people healthcare. He gave them the Word of God. He gave them Eternal life.

What did he give me?

Coconuts

And I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

 

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series:

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Part 3, Leaving soon

Part 4, A Tale of Two Boats

A Tale of Two Boats

August 18, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 132

Back to Peru, part 4

I’m officially back in the States.

I hadn’t told a ton of people my plans to leave for Peru again at the beginning of August. If you’ve been following along for the past six months, then you know that we’ve had a doggone of a time trying to get approval to run our mobile clinics in the Peruvian jungle near Puerto Maldonado. The last thing I wanted was to tell the whole world that we were ready to roll with another medical campaign, only to have it fall through once more.

But as I stood in the airport in Brainerd, MN, I received a text and confirmation that the local government in Peru granted our medical permissions. This was just the first of many obstacles to overcome during this trip.

I participate in this medical campaign each year. And it is never easy. Our team this year included a physician, dentist, nurse, paramedic (yours truly), a physical therapist, the local missionaries, and a handful of non-medical personnel. Typically, we begin by prepping gear and medication. We load up into a long, canoe-like boat and host six clinics along the Las Piedras river. Our medical campaign takes around six days to complete. Cleanup takes around two days. All in all, it’s a push.

And this year, the obstacles to this mission were many. Probably the most tangible was the time of year.

We usually don’t do this trip during August. If you know anything about South America, you will know that it’s winter in August for the residents of Peru. This means less rain. And less rain means a low river. That’s why we generally go during February, when the river is high. The river can be perilous, with heaps of submerged trees and branches, and shallow sandbars. Our boat ride is long in February when the river is high. But when it’s low? It’s almost a dealbreaker. One of the Peruvians I know made the journey to Monte Salvado a few weeks ago and it took him six days—one way. Their boat motor was torn to shreds along the way and they had to camp along the river bank, waiting for help to come along.

To matters worse, it’s not like there’s just a couple of us with a small bag each. Our team of 20 had roughly a thousand pounds of medical gear and other supplies. Our normal boat simply would not do. And to top it off, securing one boat this time of year is hard enough, not to mention getting two that would be willing to give it a go.

But that was exactly the plan. It seems as though I had the easy part of helping with organizing meds and prepping. The missionaries and local contacts went back and forth with boat drivers and owners until finally we were able to get passage secured.

Even with our team spread out into two boats, they both sat low in the water. I’m happy to say that we never had any big problems. Sure we had a couple of close ones. But we never lost a boat during the week.

Why go through all the trouble?

The Yine people live along the river near a kind of nature and tribal reservation. The further you go up the river, and away from Puerto Maldonado, the more remote. It all seems to culminate in a small village called Monte Salvado (best map on the internet). It lies 250ish miles away (by river) at the edge of nowhere. Or at least, nowhere most maps can take you. If you go to Google, the snake-like river peters out and simply disappears into a green blob of the Amazon basin.

We go there to bring medical care, medications, and to build relationships. But mostly, we’re there because Christ compels us, commands us, to make disciples of all nations. The local missionaries have spent years cultivating relationships and telling these people of the Good News of Christ. We bring the true medicine—the Great Physician Himself.

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series:

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Part 3, Leaving soon

Back to Peru, part 3: leaving soon

August 2, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 131

To say that I was disappointed at rescheduling our medical campaign to Peru would be a wild understatement. Back in February, civil unrest prompted local officials to decide not to grant our request to operate clinics in the jungle near Puerto Maldonado. But God is good. As you read this sentence, I’m actively packing for Peru once again. I’m leaving Thursday, August 3rd.

We’ve had to be flexible and ready. This business is a business of waiting.

We waited for political dust to settle.

Waited for gear to show up in the mail.

Waited on licenses to be renewed.

Waited on schedules to mesh.

Waited on the line at airport security.

We waited on the Lord.

I’m drawn to the verses in the Bible that say, “they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

That’s the old King James version. Newer renditions translate wait into trust. Those who wait on God end up renewing strength, flying with eagle’s wings, running hard, not getting tired, and all out thriving. It’s not an impatient wait. We wait in trust, knowing that God will do God things. And God will, indeed, do them. You can bank on that.

I have been involved in this medical campaign for the past few years. Many medical ministries exist throughout the world. Some are capable and able to set up huge clinic sites to reach people in difficult situations. Take an organization such as Samaritan’s Purse for an example. They mobilized thousands of medical professionals as well as garnered millions of dollars of humanitarian aid for the extreme need along the borders of Ukraine. The Salvation Army does the same for hurting people all over the world. Larger organizations have their place.

But what about the village of 80 on some unknown river in a (seemingly) godless jungle? Who reaches them? There’s no Boing 737 loaded to the gills with supplies and Bibles headed their way. Something like that is just not feasible. Even a team of 100 couldn’t make the trek. That’s where we come in. For seven days we go from village to village with a kind of tactical medical team. We keep the team tight. A doctor, a handful of nurses, a team of missionaries and locals, and myself, a paramedic—maybe 15ish people. We load up heaps of gear onto a long boat and travel a couple of hundred miles into the reaches of the Amazon, typically during the rainy season. I say typically because we usually do this campaign in February. But it’s winter there. (Don’t picture snowmen and ice fishing) Rain falls infrequently and the river is low. We face harder challenges this year, but that will just make it taste all the sweeter.

We will treat and minister to hundreds of patients and lost souls next week. These people know nothing of proper medical care. And they know even less, if anything, about our Great Physician, Jesus Christ. We will bring them the Good News of Christ—dead, buried, and risen—treating their souls as well as their bodies.

We’ve waited on the Lord to make this trip happen. And we wait to see what he’ll do in the jungle during the medical campaign next week.

Would you please pray for the medical campaign in Peru, August 7th through the 12th?

Pray for:

Local agency authorization to come through

The health of the team

Safety during the trip

Easy availability of needed supplies

The fragile political climate in Peru

And that many would hear the Gospel and that Christ would save them

 

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series: 

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Part 2, Delayed

Scotland: Ancient Ways

June 3, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 130

Cobble stones older than America line the narrow streets, all of which seem to lead up to the ancient castle perched on the tippy-topmost ridge. Darkish clouds hang down, drawn onto the stone structure. It makes no sound and wants nothing of passersby. For all intents and purposes, Edinburgh Castle keeps to itself. And so does the rest of buildings and churches and houses. Each building connects with another—all a grey stone or tan stone. Some parts, like the aptly named Old Town, are indeed quite old: Middle Ages. These places haven’t changed in nearly a thousand years. Others, like the ridiculously named New Town, are still 18th century structures. This boggles the American mind. The 18th century is the beginning of time for us. And if all of the bustle and people were to evaporate and disappear forever, one has the impression that Edinburgh would go on, just the same. And the castle would simply keep looking down, as if waiting for something. Cathedrals, chapels, and churches dot the city, breaking up any monotony. No matter where one walks, a steeple stands tall.

Rows and rows of dark and kind of damp stone buildings go on sprawling until they suddenly cease in fields where deer run. A city dropped onto a map of countryside, hills and mountains all around. Certainly, it is not supposed to be there. Someone should speak to the manager. There must be a mistake. It’s an unchanging town, trapped in its own history. And maybe that’s why people go there. Travelers and tourists look for that feeling of unchangeability, an ancient place. They go seeking the old ways. Or they go seeking answers to who they are. Especially in a place like Scotland. If you want to find out if your last name is Scottish and which clan you’re from, you’ve certainly come to the right place.

Most of the time, Edinburgh teems with people, tourists and residents alike. But all of the action happens later, and not at 10:30 a.m. on a Sunday. The streets of Edinburgh were as empty as they ever are as we walked down the lane, on our own search for the unchangeable and ancient. And I’m not talking about the castle (though he looks upon us). We walked toward The Church of St John the Evangelist. Very rarely do tourists darken the door of churches. In fact, the day before, I walked past another older cathedral and saw a tourist peek into an exceedingly ancient church structure. She half-smirked and said that she didn’t need to spend the 2£ on the tour. Nobody wants to go to church. And yet they’re all looking for something more, darker, deeper, ancient, and satisfying. But that’s why we walked the chilly Scottish lane toward the mystery of God. We seek the same beauty and ancient unchangeability.

We came to a sung eucharist service: a celebration of the Lord’s Supper accompanied by the choir of St John’s. The service commenced with the singing of Psalms and recitations by us churchgoers. We stood and sat and prayed and sang. An older gentleman in front of us told us about the history of the church (he’s been there 50 years). At length, we all stood and filed past the priest and rectors to receive the body and blood represented in a cracker and wine. Back to our seats. More choral music. More praying. A blessing was given as the service closed.

This all seems innocuous or even dull to so many people. “Church is boring. Christianity is dead. I’m not religious. Religion is just a crutch.” These statements usually come from a point of superiority. It usually feels like the person you’re talking to is trying to tell you that they have it all figured out. They don’t need my tired old God. And yet they line the streets to see the Crown Jewels of Mary Queen of Scots. Or they take selfies in front of the most beautiful structure in the city. News flash—that’s a church.

I don’t have it all figured out. On the contrary, my hurts and problems and questions sting just as much as the next guy’s. Prolific author and apologist G.K Chesterton had it right when he said that, “the riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man.”

The ancient and unchangeable ways of God satiate that taste and desire for more. There’s a reason the most beautiful structures in this world point to heaven.

 

anthony forrest

Back to Peru, part 2: delayed

February 20, 2023 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 129

I was hoping that this wouldn’t happen. The news coming out of Peru had been dodgy at best. But the medical campaign to the jungle of Peru has been rescheduled.

For the past three months, the Peruvian government has been in a bit of an upheaval. It’s convoluted and wild. But to make a long story short, the now ex-president Pedro Castillo faced an impeachment vote that would undoubtably remove him from office. He has not been a very popular guy.  It always seems to boil down to corruption. He has been repeatedly accused of corruption and lies since even before he came into office. The result was that, as the looming impeachment came to a head, he decided that he would dissolve the Peruvian congress.

Bold move.

The wrong move, but it was still pretty bold.

He was arrested and his vice president became Peru’s first female president. But this is a South American story about politics. So needless to say, there is no “good guy.”

Protests and roadblocks have made travel difficult. Supply chains are struggling, if not completely broken. One of the most important assets to our endeavor is gasoline for the boat. No gas, no travel, no clinics. This was one of contributing factors to rescheduling the trip.

But the last straw, as it were, was that the local department of health did not approve our medical papers to operate our mobile clinics. This is all due to the civil unrest that is making life very difficult in Peru.

Having to reschedule is disappointing. But we are praying that the political situation there improves soon so we can do the work we’re called to do. People need to hear of the Great Physician. His ways and thoughts are far higher and greater than ours. And He will get us into the jungle in His time.

Please continue to pray for the medical campaign in Peru. I will keep you posted with further info as the time draws near.

anthony forrest

 

Check out the rest of this series: 

Part 1, Prepping and Packing

Back to Peru, part 1: prepping and praying

January 28, 2023 / / 1 Comment

Travel Journal, 128

Warning: this article contains a brief discussion on suicide.

“I cannot believe this sporting goods store in central Minnesota doesn’t have any jungle gear during the month of January.”

Thinking it felt pretty silly. Saying it out loud was shear madness. I stumbled around Scheels looking for things like dry sacks, inflatable camping seats, rain ponchos, and anything else waterproof that I could get my hands on.

For the past few years, I have been involved in a medical mission in the jungle of Peru. There are many medical ministries in this world. Some are capable and able to set up huge clinic sites to reach people in difficult situations. Take an organization such as Samaritan’s Purse for an example. They mobilized thousands of medical professionals as well as garnered millions of dollars of humanitarian aid for the extreme need along the borders of Ukraine. The Salvation Army does the same for hurting people all over the world. Larger organizations have their place.

But what about the village of 80 on some unknown river in a (seemingly) godless jungle? Who reaches them? There’s no Boing 737 loaded to the gills with supplies and Bibles headed their way. Something like that is just not feasible. Even a team of 100 couldn’t make the trek. That’s where we come in. For seven days we go from village to village with a kind of tactical medical team. We keep the team tight. A doctor, a handful of nurses, a team of missionaries and locals, and myself, a paramedic—maybe 15-18 people. During the rainy season we load up heaps of gear onto a long boat and travel a couple of hundred miles into the reaches of the Amazon. We will treat and minister to hundreds of patients and lost souls. These people know nothing of proper medical care. And they know even less, if anything, about our Great Physician, Jesus Christ. We will bring them the Good News of Christ—dead, buried, and risen—treating their souls as well as their bodies.

The medical campaign has become a very important part of my life. Be not deceived. It sounds adventurous, and I suppose it is. But this is no vacation. We are here to work. At every stop along the river, we carry hundreds of pounds of gear up the river banks to set up clinic. Sleep evades. And muscles cry out. It’s a grueling week with all the romance of sleeping on the dirt and chancing Dengue Fever.

But I cannot miss it.

In truth, I need to be there as much as the patients we’ll see.

As a paramedic, I see patients every night. Some sick, some not so much.

I get calls for junkies OD-ing on Fentanyl.

Elderly women with respiratory failure.

Heart attacks.

Strokes.

Suicides especially hurt my heart. My mind’s eye cannot rid itself of the images of men and women hanging from the floor joists in their basement.

But not all “emergencies” are emergencies. We see it all—drunk wackos, running from the cops. The 25-year-old who thinks he’s dying when it turns out he shouldn’t drink 10 Monster Energy Drinks in a night. Or how about getting called in the middle of the night for a kid with a fever? For some reason, a ton of parents don’t even have Tylenol in their home. I get called for (literally) stubbed toes.

Needless to say, I get burned out.

Where is my empathy? Why don’t I always care deeply for each person equally, no matter why they call 911? God Himself cares for me even at my worst—especially (!) at my worst. Christianity is the opposite of this world. The more horrible I am, the more grace God has given me. It seems backward. And I wish I was like that—showing love and grace to people whom I’ve written off.

I need a reset. And my annual trek to Peru does just that. I need to sleep on the dirt and suffer a little. I need to go to the jungle; I need to see patients who need medical care; I need to see lives transformed by Christ. Yes, I know, it all kind of sounds selfish now. But God works in every heart. While we bring the News of Christ to these sick souls, it turns out, the Great Physicians is actually healing me.

So, I am prepping once again for the campaign in Peru. We have an excellent team this year, including a couple of nurses who’ve never been there. I will be checking my tent for holes and filling totes with medical supplies for the next two weeks. The search for jungle gear in this Minnesota January continues.

Would you consider praying for the upcoming medical campaign in Peru from 11 February to 19 February?

 

Pray for:

The health of the team

Safety during the trip

Easy availability of needed supplies (gasoline for the boat, ect)

The deteriorating political climate in Peru

And that many would hear the Gospel and that Christ would save them

 

anthony forrest

Captivated by Rome

November 4, 2022 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 127

Acclaimed travel show host, Laura McKenzie has been taking people around the world in 30-minute segments for the better part of 30 years. Just last month, I came across an episode of her show on Rome. She hit the highlights from the fountains to the Colosseum. In a half-an-hour I had seen Rome with sparky music in the background all from the comfort of my couch. And this is a lovely way to see Rome. But it is not the honest way.

Honesty may be the best policy. But honesty can be chaos.

We hit the ground running when we landed at Leonardo DaVinci Airport. I immediately stopped for a coffee and poured an espresso into my soul; this was going to be a wild trip. Our train took us right to the Roma Termini station, within walking distance of much of the sites.

The TV shows don’t tell you of the oceans of people, crowding the train stations and all public places. We poured forth into the streets, thinking we were going to be gingerly introduced to the Eternal City. But we were accosted by all it had to offer. Rome is a maze of streets lined with tan and salmon-colored Mediterranean buildings. A Catholic church sits on every corner, and each of them is older than the United States. Aged and ancient structure is everywhere and everything.

There’s no better place to experience this than Vatican City. The museum in the tiny city-state houses more ancient things than you can imagine. Hallways full of the ancient treasures of this world lead to even more hallways and rooms of art beyond measure. It culminates in the Sistine Chapel, where Michelangelo painted what could be the most famous work of art ever.

God peers down from the ceiling above; Adam reaches for Him. Frescos of Biblical tales swirl in a kaleidoscope of Christianity. And it all happens while you are shoulder to shoulder with heaps of tourists, trying to sneak a picture without the guards yelling at you in broken English. It’s madness and beauty. Most of the people underneath God and Adam aren’t even Christians. But there’s enough longing in their hearts to know that this mass of Christian art is special. It beckons. They, like Adam, are reaching for God—they just don’t know it yet.

The Sistine Chapel is Rome in miniature.

Rome is just too much, an assault on the senses.

Heavy spiritual Catholicism everywhere.

Tourists pouring from every chink in every wall.

Trash in the street.

The smell of coffee, wine, pizza, and cheap European cigarettes permeates everything.

Sounds of mercilessly old motorcycles and tiny cars molests your eardrums.

Pickpockets wait in not-so-dark alleys.

If you don’t get run over by a Vespa, you might make it to a vespers at one of a million churches.

Suddenly it’s 5 p.m. and every bell rings your mind into a trance.

Ding!

Bell!

Ring!

Dong!

Ding!

Clang!

Bang!

Ring!

Clung!

Ding!

So many church bells, and none of them synchronized, this ringing of the bells rings on for minutes on end—until every thought must be put on layaway.

It’s a sober high, a fever dream of mystic spirituality. But it’s all mixed with pungent secularism.

And it never ends.

English writer and Christian apologist, GK Chesterton, is quoted as saying that the Roman Catholic Church is, “like a thick steak, a glass of red wine, and a good cigar.”

I don’t know if this is true. I am no Catholic. But it certainly seems true of Rome itself. It’s hearty like a thick steak you can’t finish, mildly intoxicating like wine, and a hidden mystery—somewhat like a smoke-filled room.

I stood on a terrace, looking out, and it seemed Rome went on forever, for all eternity. With all the harassing senses that Rome imparts, I find I love it. The beauty of the old Christianity cannot be ignored. The crucifix depicting our Lord hangs on nearly every wall. Ancient art infuses a sense of God-given grace. Cobble-stoned streets always win me over. Smiling people serve lovely pasta and pizza in corner cafes. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a bad espresso. I would freely admit to being a hostage of Rome and fully loving my captor—like Stockholm Syndrome. I want to be in Rome and I don’t want to be in Rome.

It’s a paradox. Or rather, Rome is like that old Chapel, filled with sinners and saints, some reaching for God and some not.

But the beauty prevails, despite the chaos.

 

anthony forrest

Every Place

October 31, 2022 / / 0 Comments

Forward motion

on foreign trains,

strange notions

and ever more to see,

point to point movement,

you and me

always looking for the next step—

and always finding it.

Every station’s a success

despite no rest.

We step off (and mind the gap).

We’re trapped;

and wrapped up

in the embrace

of every place.

Then it’s, all aboard!

—forward again—

 

anthony forrest

Unexpected Stockholm

October 17, 2022 / / 0 Comments

Travel Journal, 126

Cobbled stone streets flow through all of the various European cities around this great European continent. But none so clean as Stockholm. I think this was probably the most surprising aspect of Stockholm. It may sound silly, but enjoying this capital of Sweden was a mistake. We simply did not intend to love it there. It was, by far, one of the best traveling accidents we’ve ever made.

We hadn’t left the US in months and we wanted a getaway. So we looked at the list of locations on our “to-be-traveled” list and picked one. We knew nothing of Sweden. But off we went. The 8-hour flight passed with surprising ease when our plane cut through the clouds above Stockholm. The airport lies 30 km (16 miles) from the city center. The surrounding trees near the rural airport made us feel like we were at home in an Autumn-blasted Minnesota.

(A point of gratitude: travel restrictions are completely lifted in most of the world. Sweden is no exception. We crossed into the country needing no extra paperwork or testing. Back to normal!)

A 30-minute bus ride landed us in the center of the city. Like most cities, some parts are new and others old. The train and bus depot is located in the newer section of town. But Sweden is an old place. And even the new parts feel old-world—especially since it saw no harms of WWII.

The whole city is walkable, and soon we found our hotel in the old town of Gamla Stan. And here the surprises continued. Who knew that a place like Stockholm would smell like cinnamon? On nearly every corner, sellers of cinnamon buns and coffee tempt the traveler and local alike. Stopping for a quick bite and coffee is an important part of their culture, called Fika—or, coffee break. They take time to relax and have a break two, or three times a day. And these cinnamon buns are at the center of the Fika tradition. In fact, we landed on National Cinnamon Bun Day. A coincidence? I call it fate.

Stockholm is a harbor town on the Baltic Sea. Its lands are islands and peninsulas and mainlands, connected by over 50 bridges. It’s a paradise for all who love museums, cafes, restaurants, shopping, entertainment, parks, water, outdoor space, and old architecture. What’s more, during a chilly October, the Fall colors paint the place with oranges, and reds, and yellows, and all the other Fall-like tones.

Sound perfect?

It is.

Above all, though, Stockholm is clean. It has all the old-world charms of Amsterdam with its history and cobble stones, and the romantic flair of Paris with its iconic sites and cafes. But it does not have the trash or smells of either of those places. Stockholm is clean, safe, and almost completely free of homeless. It’s the best of Europe.

One of our favorite pastimes in any European city is to simply walk the cobblestone streets. And there is no better place to do so than Stockholm.

You could eat off the cobble stones here. They lead to royal palaces, restaurants, and churches. They bring life to this old place, like so many arteries carrying blood.

It mesmerizes the traveler.

I’m pumped deeper into these stones and buildings and waterways and statues until I’m lost, lost, lost, or, at least, don’t want to go home.

But I must.

And though it has only been a few days, I feel that in leaving now, when I don’t want to, I’m gettin’ while we’re gettin’ is good.

If we had stayed longer, would we have regretted it? (I doubt it).

Maybe we would grow to hate it here. (I doubly doubt it).

But maybe it’s best to leave early, when I don’t want to leave. There was no time to wonder, “what next?” We left Stockholm wanting more. And that’s a great way to live. It’s certainly better than leaving, wanting less.

If you ever have the chance to go to Stockholm, go to Stockholm.

That is, of course, unless you despise happy places that smell like cinnamon.

 

anthony forrest

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