Today on the train I read two books. They are very different, one being about families and fly-fishing and the other about praying the Lord's prayer, and yet they share many surprising similarities. I approached my trip to Mexico and soon to Guatemala, with hope and expectancy for God to work in me, reveal something to me or challenge me. I always carry at least two books with me because sometimes I want to read about God and sometimes I need something lighter because I'm fearful of being convicted or challenged by God. I find prayer not to be so convicting because it's a time to empty ourselves of ourselves and seek fullness from God, to bring nothing and seek nothing, but Him. Sometimes I have a hard time praying, I drink too much coffee, I can't sit still for too long, there's too much noise around me, I get bored and my headaches also make it very difficult for me to pray. I mean, I went a seriously long time without consistent prayer and it took a season of pain and a lack of understanding to force me to prayer. I'm ashamed of this, but grateful that God operates and loves His children in such a manner. It reminds me of the Gibran poem On Pain,

"Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility."

I have been thinking a lot about pain, joy and sorrow lately, particularly as I walk and breathe Mexican history in the streets, ruins, cathedrals and museums of this amazing city. Yesterday, I visited four churches and spent some time in each of them praying. We settled on going to the Cathedral instead. There is so much gold in the church, it's rather overwhelming. I generally don't appreciate ornate churches, but this one really boils my blood. White Europeans came and stole gold from the indigenous folks and then built this fancy temple to God from the abundance of their stolen goods. Something tells me that God does not delight in that. I suppose we continue to do similar things today as the church, in more inconspicuous manners, but I have a hard time understanding why God lets such things happen.

The next place we visit is the Basilica, which is the second most visited Catholic holy site, behind only the Vatican. It's a rather breathtaking place, but again there is pain, idolatry and contradictions. Jesus is almost an afterthought to the Virgin of Guadelupe. From the moment you step off the metro and rise to the streets, the markets are filled mainly with icons of Guadelupe. There is more zeal for her than for any sports team I've ever seen in the States. The markets cover the street and stretch for nearly a quarter mile on the pilgrimage to the Basilica. On the one hand, it's amazing to see so many people buying religious items. There's no way you would ever see anything like this in the U.S. although I've never visited that Holy Land Bible theme park. There are some crosses and Jesus artifacts, my favorite being the pictures of Jesus with a lowrider in the background, but the overwhelming majority are of Guadelope.

My favorite one was at the plaza de tres culturas and the church was really old and fairly simple with plain stained glass windows and some rock construction including a dome made of stone that was so impressive. We sat there for a while and both spent some solid time in prayer. I love churches, but generally ones that aren´t too fancy and this one was really peaceful and inviting to me.

Out of time on the computer...