By way of introduction, I share a story of my formation. In May of 2001 I began a six month trip to Central America. I wanted to learn Spanish and immerse myself in another culture.  I went to learn Liberation Theology and have a chance “be in solidarity with the poor”.

For this six month adventure, I refused to be a part of any exchange program. The first two weeks of this trip was to Nicaragua with a group of classmates from Wesley Theology Seminary, after which I had decided to go an intensive language school in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. Then I would be off to Costa Rica for a couple months at La Universidad Bíblica Latinoamericana (UBL for short – a seminary in San José, Costa Rica specializing in Latin American theology and pastoral training) and after that I would see what the future had in store. This adventurous, naive approach to travel in a completely different context caught up with me by the end of my first week in Nicaragua as I began to realize my complete lack of skills in navigating a completely different world. (Some how I would need to get myself from country to country — my first trip was by bus. Some questions racing through my mind included:  How do I get to a bus stop… how would I know where the bus was going… by the way are there any public phones do they take coins… how do I get money… how, once I get on the bus, do I know where to stop…)

First, I did not speak the language. Second, I had no understanding of how systems of transportation (or any systems for that matter) worked. Third, I found myself, a privileged and educated person (who could get around in the United States without any trouble), completely vulnerable. But instead of naming these fears and realities, I got sick… I think my subconscious was way ahead of my conscious mind. I needed everyone to pay attention to me, before they all abandoned me and headed back to the States.

My friend and pastor Dr. Rev. Miguel Balderas, an ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church, who is originally from Mexico, was on the trip with us.  He always reminds me of one overnight trip we took to to a small pueblo named Chaguitillo. I still felt sick, but went along anyway.  As we gathered to see the presentation the church had prepared for us, music began to play and the young men extended they hands to us “¿Vamos a bailar?”. This invitation to dance was too much for me to resist… so up I (the only one) jumped to dance. An apparent miracle had occurred, and my sickness was gone. Pastor Miguel realized otherwise and dubbed me “Chipil”, a nickname I carry with me to this day.

So basically, “Chipil” means “a whiner” in Mexican Spanish.

Chipil describes children who cry in order to get attention, an annoying albeit appropriate activity for a two year old, but at 23 more akin to the types of believers the writer of 2 Thessalonians is warning the members of the church there to stay away from, believers who are “living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work.” It took me a while, about four years, before I would even begin to understand my nickname. When I finally did, I changed it to “siemprechipil” (“always a whiner”) as a constant reminder of my tendency to slip into self-centered wallowing while leaving the burden of my share of the work to others who wordlessly picked up my share.

Pastor Miguel and all those who have picked up my burden and helped in my formation, thanks be to God for your unending patience. Whatever good that I can contribute to what is The State of Formation is due to the grace God showed me through you.