TAL COMO SON
On our first night at La Ruta we met who would become one of our favorite people here in Montevideo. Gaston. Yes, as in the boisterous villain from Beauty and the Beast. Except this Gaston is a skinny, 26 year old Uber driver from outside the city with a ginger beard, a crass sense of humor, the most mischievous brown eyes you’ve ever seen, and an impression of a gringo accent that makes me laugh every time. He’s simply one of those people that’s a whole lot of fun a whole lot of the time, even when you fail to understand one another.
After the event at La Ruta was over, we all walked over to a nearby restaurant for dinner (here dinner normally takes place around 10:30 in the evening). Gaston and I walked together through the blustery, cold evening and had the following conversation:
“How long have you been going to La Ruta?” I asked.
“Oh, two or three weeks or so.”
“And you like it? I mean, you keep coming, no?”
“Yes, I like the people there.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty neat.”
“Are you a Christian? As in, do you believe in Jesus and all that?” Gaston asked, just exactly that abruptly.
“Yes,” I replied, rather caught off guard by the sudden dive well beyond basic small talk.
“I’m not and I don’t believe that,” he said, “but I respect it. This is what I like about La Ruta. I don’t believe the same things, but there I am respected, loved, and I belong and I also love and respect them. This is why I come.”
In that moment the ripples going out from this place were placed in stark contrast. In a city of 1.5 million people, 100,000 college students, and in a nation where just over 6% of the population claim faith there is a place (a single place, I might add) where Uruguayan college students are discovering the meaning of belonging. It’s called La Ruta. It’s a place where lost, broken, and often lonely college students laugh (a lot), play, eat delicious food, practice their English, and where they just come to be. Where they belong. Where they hear about, but, more importantly, see Jesus, experience Jesus every time they come sauntering down the block to this little, red brick house.
Over the main entryway there is painted a statement about what La Ruta is, a mission statement, if you will. My favorite part reads “ . . . donde todos son bienvenidos tal como son,” or “. . . where all are welcome just as they are.” These students belong here just as they are; tatters, flaws, dirt, tears, doubts and all. Tal como son. They are loved just as they are. And, just like me, they’re loved before they believe anything, even if/when they don’t believe anything, before they change anything, and even when they wander.
On our first night at La Ruta we met who would become one of our favorite people here in Montevideo. Gaston. Yes, as in the boisterous villain from Beauty and the Beast. Except this Gaston is a skinny, 26 year old Uber driver from outside the city with a ginger beard, a crass sense of humor, the most mischievous brown eyes you’ve ever seen, and an impression of a gringo accent that makes me laugh every time. He’s simply one of those people that’s a whole lot of fun a whole lot of the time, even when you fail to understand one another.
After the event at La Ruta was over, we all walked over to a nearby restaurant for dinner (here dinner normally takes place around 10:30 in the evening). Gaston and I walked together through the blustery, cold evening and had the following conversation:
“How long have you been going to La Ruta?” I asked.
“Oh, two or three weeks or so.”
“And you like it? I mean, you keep coming, no?”
“Yes, I like the people there.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty neat.”
“Are you a Christian? As in, do you believe in Jesus and all that?” Gaston asked, just exactly that abruptly.
“Yes,” I replied, rather caught off guard by the sudden dive well beyond basic small talk.
“I’m not and I don’t believe that,” he said, “but I respect it. This is what I like about La Ruta. I don’t believe the same things, but there I am respected, loved, and I belong and I also love and respect them. This is why I come.”
In that moment the ripples going out from this place were placed in stark contrast. In a city of 1.5 million people, 100,000 college students, and in a nation where just over 6% of the population claim faith there is a place (a single place, I might add) where Uruguayan college students are discovering the meaning of belonging. It’s called La Ruta. It’s a place where lost, broken, and often lonely college students laugh (a lot), play, eat delicious food, practice their English, and where they just come to be. Where they belong. Where they hear about, but, more importantly, see Jesus, experience Jesus every time they come sauntering down the block to this little, red brick house.
Over the main entryway there is painted a statement about what La Ruta is, a mission statement, if you will. My favorite part reads “ . . . donde todos son bienvenidos tal como son,” or “. . . where all are welcome just as they are.” These students belong here just as they are; tatters, flaws, dirt, tears, doubts and all. Tal como son. They are loved just as they are. And, just like me, they’re loved before they believe anything, even if/when they don’t believe anything, before they change anything, and even when they wander.