Living in Guatemala, I find myself surrounded by people of faith. Greetings or salutations usually consist of God’s blessing me. My friends’ after work or weekend activities are generally related to some kind of Church activity or retreat. Faith is an integral part of the lives of Guatemalans, but not the way that it is in the United States. Faith here is a relatively private matter, not something to be advertised or to be won over. Here, I don’t have to hide, as I did when I was 12, from the people who visited me weekly to discuss the book they had left for me. That book happened to be the Bible.
No, I have not converted to Christianity. My small core group of friends, my closest American friends today and I still remain as secular as we were in middle school, head-bopping to Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus”. However I do find myself, here at least, explaining things with “God”. “God’s gift to us” and “God made it that way” have come out of my mouth several times, before I can think about what I’m saying or why I’m saying it. I chalk it up to its being easier that way – rather than explaining some hard science, I can just say it’s God’s gift. The Ipod is God’s gift. Email is God’s gift. Corn and Judy's Nespresso machine are God’s gifts.
Bill Withers's voice, Yo La Tengo’s longevity, Stuart Murdoch’s songwriting, and on and on, those are God’s greatest gifts.
The thing is that I’m not saying these things in jest, there is a part of me that really feels a certain way about that. I am especially connected to songs that just allude to God or to Jesus (Wilco's Jesus, Etc., Neutral Milk Hotel's King of Carrot Flowers Pts. 2 & 3, Iron & Wine's God Made the Automobile, to name just a few). I doubt these guys are making light of Jesus or God or religion. I believe that they really do feel close enough to God to include him in their songs. How else can one describe the lightness you feel when you are lying on the floor when the first notes of Iron & Wine / Calexico’s “Prison on Route 41” (or anything from that album) come on?
Before I moved to Guatemala in June of 2007, my friend Gita advised me to carry with me and in my luggage, a picture of Saint Christopher and his prayer. Out of a real fear of being hijacked for all of my belongings, I did so. More than anything, I found the words beautiful and comforting.
Dear Glorious Saint, you have inherited a beautiful name, Christbearer, as a result of a wonderful legend that while carrying people across a raging stream you also carried the Child Jesus. Teach us to be true Christbearers to those who do not know Him. Protect all drivers who often transport those who bear Christ within them.
I don’t know that Christ is within me. I imagine people like me never figure that out in their lifetime and I don’t look for that nor do I mind that other people have something that I may never. I don’t have an organized religion that I look to when things aren’t right. I have the sounds of guitar strumming and major key melodies. I have inexplicable lyrics sometimes and carefully layered instrumentation. My faith is in my ears.
