Seeing Is Believing

Each waking morning, after pushing the button on the coffee maker, I seem to gravitate towards the tinted window in my apt. that overlooks the street below.  I hear roosters and I hear school kids.  I hear dogs and I hear buses.  I hear surf and I hear tortilla salesmen.  Once I go to the tinted window, I can then put a couple of eyeballs onto the sound-scape.  

This particular morning, after pushing the button on my coffee maker, and after hearing all the usual sounds, I naturally gravitated towards the tinted window, yet the only thing that my two eyeballs could picture was the pretty yellow bird that lay dead on my street.  I remember asking myself why God would want me to bare witness to this lifeless beauty.


Two hours later, I decided to head out to The Mercado.  While I was waiting below for some public transportation, a lady with a pamphlet came my way.  She was Mexican.  Maybe 35 years old.  Her pretty blonde co-worker kept her distance.  Out of respect for her being of Mexican blood, and because they opted not to four-leg me, I decided to play fair.

As many of you may or may not know, my history with these people has become very well documented.  This is the time of year when a bunch of blonde haired, blue eyed, surfer missionary men and woman walk around Puerto and try to talk Jesus shop.  Last year they hit me up at the wrong time of the month, and the shit hit the fan.  This time would be different.

Our 6 minute Conversation

How’s your Spanish going?  ¿Hablas Ingles?

Yeah I speak English.

Well my name is Juanita, and that is my friend Christie over there.

Hey.  How’s it going?

Another day in paradise…

Where are you from?

I live here, and have lived here in Puerto for 20 years.  I am originally from Acapulco.  Christie is from Brisbane.

Nice.  So what’s up?

Well, we are just walking around the community, speaking with as many people as we can about Resurrection.  Do you know what Resurrection means?

Not really.

She handed me her little pamphlet.  On the top it read, Can the dead really live again?  On the bottom read, Would you say Yes, No, or Maybe.  In between this loaded question there was a picture of a man and woman.(presumably husband and wife)  The woman had her right arm around the waste of the man, and her right ear rested on his left shoulder.  The picture was of their backside.  Why their backside?  Well I will tell you.  So that in the foreground of the pamphlet, the reader could also see how the (presumably)sad parents were looking at pictures that hung on their family room wall of their (presumably)dead daughter during (presumably)happier times.  Another perfect example of a religion using fear based tactics right out da’ gate.  I twitched and bit my lip.

What do you want from me Señora?

Do you believe in life after death?


Well the bible does.

I’ll be damned.  

Would you be curious to know what the bible says about life after death?

Lay it on me.

Fact #1:

God is the Creator of life.  The Bible calls Jehovah God “the source of life”.  The One who gave life to all living creatures is certainly capable of restoring life to someone who has died.

Fact #2:

God has resurrected humans in the past.  The Bible reports eight instances of humans–young, old, male, and female–who were brought back to life on earth.  Some had been dead for a short while, but one had been in a tomb for four days!

Fact #3:

God is eager to do it again.  Jehovah HATES death; he views it as an enemy.  He has a yearning to conquer that enemy, to undo death by means of the resurrection.  He longs to bring back those who are in his memory and to see them live on earth again.

What do you think after hearing those facts?

I’m curious if God can bring back animals.

You mean like a horse or a cow?

He can start with a couple of dogs if it’s easier.

I’m not sure what the bible says about that.

Look Lady, how can I best say this?  OK, You see that dead bird in the street?


Can you, or your blonde friend over there make that bird fly again, or is that bird out for the count?  Because if you can make it fly again, I will go to Central on the next bus, buy a pair of long pants, get a clean shave, buy a pair of shoes, maybe a leather briefcase, and I will walk these dirt streets in the hot sun with more God Damn conviction than Jehovah himself.

[she chuckled]  I can’t bring that bird back to life.

I didn’t think you could.  And nor can your boy Jesus.  That bird is dead.  And all the birds that are still flying around, like that one, and that one; they aren’t the least bit sad that one of their own is lying dead in the street.  In fact, one or more of them may even come back later and steal some feathers if a tire tread doesn’t get to it first.

But birds aren’t what we’re…

Wrong again Juanita.  That bird was just as important as you and me.  It was just as smart as you and me.  It had a heart that beat life just like yours and mine do.  It deserves everything and anything that you and me deserve.  That dead bird right there spoke a universal language more in tune with the soul of our world than you and me could ever even dream up.  So if that dead bird isn’t included in the resurrection lottery, then I’m going to have to pass tambien. 

OK, well you have a good day.

Que le vaya bien..