Last week, I was in Puerto Rico working in a city called Ponce. This city on the south of the island has a rich history of surviving fires and hurricanes. The people there have adopted this symbol that encompasses who they are: The Lion of Ponce. Taken from the city’s flag, this lion represents strength and courage.
One of the city plaza's most distinct building is the historic fire hall, decorated with brilliant red and black. I was told by one of the locals how firefighters once saved the city by disobeying government orders while they put out a fire in a hidden munitions bunker. The city would have been destroyed had they not dove in and heed the call of duty. They took up a spirit of courage. The Lion of Ponce.
People are proud because they are from this city. They even have a saying that “Ponce is Ponce and everywhere else is just parking.” It was a phrase more common than we initially thought. Like a pride of lions, the citizens walk and talk with an attitude that shouts out, "this is our city." An attitude that has strength in numbers. The Lion of Ponce.
But recently the Lion of Ponce isn’t enough. The city doesn’t provide the things they really need. The people we met were poor, homeless, and without families. The city they pull their strength from just isn’t enough. They stand in the historic plaza, were poets were born, great churches were attended, and fires were fought. Yet, they cannot live vicariously through the legends of their beloved city.
There is something going around, which no one would acknowledge. It didn't only affect the prideful city of Ponce, but the whole island. A slow, underlying weakening of the spirit. Their lion's roar just didn't sound the same as it should have. Their city, as for the rest of Puerto Rico has hopelessness running through it's veins, perhaps without realizing it.
The people there have lost so much due to the relentless history of hurricanes and with no economic surplus to fall back on, Puerto Rico has no way to recover. They have been beaten so many times, people have stopped rebuilding, given up hope that anything could be back to new again. They're so used to seeing nice things crumble into ruin, and have never seen ruins rebuilt into something new. The Lion of Ponce keeps getting kicked while it's down, with no drive left to get back up.
I’ve had the honor of working with a small group of people who have realized a vital truth: There is a stronger Lion. One who can provide much more than their city ever could. One that can provide forgiveness, love, mercy, and a quiet strength that is more powerful than anything else. The Lion of Judah. Jesus.
The lowest people in Ponce know the pride of their heritage isn’t enough. People who have nothing but the clothes on their back, cling to the one thing they can’t lose in a fire or hurricane, or robbery. They pull their strength and love from Jesus. The Lion of Judah.
With a renewed heart people have started turning from a selfish, survival mindset to a selfless, compassionate mindset. The few that have wandered into the church in Ponce have been filled with love and family again. Their smiles shone the brightest out of everyone we met. Even those in the toughest of places, still found the joy and peace that the Spirit provides.
The members of Fuente de Vida Lutheran church truly draw from a fountain of life. Not their city, nor heritage, but the Lion of Judah. Jesus Christ.
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