 When I post stuff to the ministry page I often say “we”when referring to ministries done here. The ministry is a group effort and though I am here by myself for the most part the ministry has a good group of folks praying and supporting us. Without the folks that pray and support the ministry “we” wouldn’t be able to function. I don’t usually get to go in depth how ministries affect me personally. Well I want to share something that really had an effect on me personally. Yesterday we partnered with a local church to do ministry at the local prison/jail here. I have done this before and kind of knew what to expect. It didn’t however change the heaviness that hit my heart once entering the jail and seeing the iron bars with the inmates crowding the small door. Imagine if you will a concrete block room about 12ft x12ft with no running water just a plastic blue barrel for all to share. There are no lights inside the cell so darkness becomes your environment. The small door is made of rebar welded together with a small slot just large enough for a plate of food. There are 18 and at times 30+ more people in this room with you. They are there for a mistake made same as you. It could be worse or it could be for a lesser crime. There are strings tied from the welded bars above that form the cage you are in. Some of those with you haven’t bathed in a while and with this being a tropical country the heat can get overwhelming. There is no breeze to help cool you down and the weight of your poor choice is right there in front of you all day and night. There aren’t enough beds so you may end up on the floor depending on when you got there or how hard you are willing to fight for a less than comfortable place to sleep. You are constantly hungry because your only meal is a piece of bread and a drink of water from that barrel in the middle of the room. The same barrel you use to shower, flush the toilet, and wash whatever clothes you happen to have. The days move slowly and the nights even slower as you are left to ponder and meditate on what brought you to this place. It may not be your first time here. You may have hit the bottom and become almost dependent on this environment. This should paint a pretty sad picture in your mind and hurt your heart. Then one Thursday morning you hear some commotion out in the foyer and wonder if you are getting new cellies or just what is going on. You peep down the hall and see a group of people walking towards your cell and they have a book in hand. You think to yourself “are they coming this way? I hope so; I would love just to talk to someone outside of these concrete walls and cage doors”. They get closer and closer and then stop in front of you and ask a simple question. “Would you like freedom and liberty”? That simple phrase hit’s you like the smell of a fresh baked pie right out of the oven. Your fellow inmates soon rush the door because they can smell it too. The group starts talking about an in measurable love. One that can’t be matched or broken. This sounds good to you because the only love you know is that of the vices that brought you to this place. They share stories of others who have been right where you are and how they found freedom, happiness, peace, and mostly a love that you have long sought after and never found. The group sings songs and you just happen to know the words from hearing your grandparents singing them during your childhood. A time when the weight of the world and your poor choices didn’t weigh you down to the point you feel like you can’t even move. They are all smiling and telling you know matter what you did they love you and want you to feel the peace that they have and to feel the love that navigates their lives. You think it’s too good to be true that there is now way a person can actually feel that way and live that way. You start to want what they have so bad you feel like you could bust down those rusty cell doors and get the freedom you yearn for. Then they start praying for you and each word they speak is like each one of those heavy bricks is being lifted from your head and heart. A cool breeze flows through the cell and you feel something you thought impossible. You feel love. Love from a stranger that knows nothing about you, that knows nothing of the choices you made that put you there, Love from this father that they talked about a love you may have never gotten from your earthly father. The tears start to well up in your eyes and you take a deep breath to hold them back but it’s too late your cheeks are damp now the shell around your heart has been cracked and a seed has been planted. That taste of freedom is felt even though your hands still clasp the bars that are holding you in. Peace has come that day because of the love shown by this group of Christian men and women. They hand you a plate of real food not the bread you have grown accustomed to you get a fruit drink and the taste has never been sweeter. They then hand you a small book with the letters B.I.B.L.E. on the front and say “Your freedom awaits you in this book”. As they leave and you start meditating on what had just happened you notice something. You are smiling. This is the first true smile you have had in ages. You almost don’t know what to think about it. You dive right in to reading the book and step closer and closer to freedom with every verse read. You look around to see what your friends are doing and how they are reacting and you see them all just like you nose first in the book they had just received. One guy in the corner starts singing the song from earlier in the visit followed by another then another and the next this you know the whole place has broke out in song. Even though you are in earthly chains in this moment you start to feel that freedom.
Now that you have hopefully imagined this what seems to be made up place I want you to know it is exactly what I saw yesterday. 150+ inmates, fellow brothers and sisters, children of the same God some of you say you love sitting in lock and chain desperate for the freedom and peace we know that comes with a relationship with God. This is why this ministry is so heavy on my heart and why I can’t let anyone sit in such a dark place with no hope or knowledge of the love Jesus Christ has for each of us no matter what choices we have made on earth. Freedom not from the chains of the world that is a debt you must pay. I am talking spiritual freedom where no chains can bind you nor can any concrete and metal bar room hold you.
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I have been trying to working on a small project where I do a short video explaining what 4everForward does. I really want to spread the word to a broader audience. I sent out a few messages to friends trying to find out what people want to know about the ministry. I got a lot of the questions I expected like what do you do? How do you get support? Where do you work? How did you start? They were some of the same questions I get asked often. Well one friend posed a question and I have been pondering it for the past two days. He simply asked “Why should I care”? I could give you all kinds of scripture to back up why you should care and how it truthfully is your Christian duty to care. But will that make someone really think and say “Yes, I care now. Where do I give”? I could throw out statistics about how poverty stricken the area I work is. I can always show photos of a handicap child that is mal nourished or an elderly lady that needs a new mattress because she sleeps on the floor or on wood slats. I could show pictures of kids digging in the dump for bottles to sell to get money for food. I could do all of the things that you see in almost every commercial of those large corporate ran humanitarian and Christian organizations begging for a dollar a day. But the thing is I have done all of that before to no avail. It helps in the short run but does it make people give because they care or give because they feel guilty? So instead of trying to convince you to “care” I am going to tell you why I care. I used to see all of the infomercials back in the day of little bloated belly kids with flies all over their faces and to be honest it stirred up little emotion. I didn’t feel the need to give or even think twice about it after the regularly scheduled program came back. I would see people in the world that I knew that were poor and struggling and felt sympathy but had little empathy. I could watch programs on TV about poverty and the devastating effects it has but it wasn’t my reality because I lived in a safe middle class world I few trips l which my needs were pretty much met. I can’t remember a time of going more than one meal if any because of lack of money. I don’t recall a time in my life where I only had one outfit to wear. I always had shoes on my feet and clothes on my back. It wasn’t until I traveled here that my eyes were not just opened but ripped open. You see I came here like many other “Christians” on a mission to do Gods work. I had my hand sanitizer, bug spray, banana boat sunscreen, and bottled water. I had bought some hiking style boots to wear so I didn’t mess up my good shoes. I had gone to the local Wal-Mart and bought some cargo pants like I had seen in photos from other people going on mission trips. I had my sanitary napkins to use to keep clean and in case of no TP. I thought I was prepared. Man was I wrong on so many levels. To be honest I don’t think anything could have had me properly prepared for what was to happen. God kind of threw me head first in to this. It wasn’t gentle it came fast and furious from the time I stepped out of the airport. I couldn’t even take it all in that first trip here. I was blind to it all still in a comfort zone so to speak. It wasn’t until my third or fourth trip here that I actually started to really see what God was pushing me to see. A few trips later this was still a part time thing for me making about 4-5 trips in a year. I had what I like to call a “God wink moment”. He was nudging me closer and closer to full time missions work. I tried to fight it a little but felt an instant tug at my heart. At this point I could not unsee what my eyes had seen. I couldn’t erase the things and stories I had heard. It was a constant in my thought patterns. As soon as I left here I was ready to come back. I couldn’t shake the pull of this place. Now that I have spent enough time here and really gotten very close to many people here there is a different feeling I have not just about this place but about the people here. They are family just as much so as my blood family back home in the states. I read once where the Apostle Peter was talking about us Christians have a dual citizenry that we are a colony of both heaven and earth. He was talking about how our ultimate allegiance is to our heavenly home that God has prepared for us. God put his son on this earth with a specific purpose and the end game of that was death. Before his death one of his most important quotes while walking this earth was “Take up your cross and follow me”. (Matt 16:24) That is something I am trying to take seriously. Jesus passed the torch of evangelism to me and you that day up on that cross. He said to go to all nations and preach and baptize. Does that mean we should all leave or native land and go out evangelizing. Probably not but we should all be willing to. He sent me here, at least for now. This place is part of my earthly home that is preparing me for my eternal home. God also said it wouldn’t be easy and let me tell you it’s not easy. It is a struggle but I can tell you I have never thought about quitting. I have gotten frustrated to the point where I questioned my faith but never thought about throwing in the towel. I have been asked what the struggles are here for me and they may be different than most think. The first thing most think is about the food. I love the food even the crazy stuff like the iguanas, and parts of the animals most don’t eat. Then it’s the language barrier. Yes that can be frustrating at times but for the most part I get by. Well what about the heat since it’s in Central America. Yes it gets hot but where I am year round for the most parts its mid 80’s in the day and high 60’s at night so pretty much perfect. So what do I struggle with you ask. Seeing a need I can’t meet is the biggest. Man, I have seen so much pain and struggle. I have witnessed Parents that can’t feed kids or take care of their elderly parents. I have seen the handicap get overlooked and ignored like they don’t exist in this world. Not because they don’t care but the resources just aren’t there. But that’s just a very small part of it. I know I can’t solve the poverty here nor is that my mission. My friends here have become family to me. We share each other’s struggles and burdens. I have never seen a truer sense of community than I do here. It is infectious to say the least. When I ask for help from those back home I am asking you to help a stranger. Someone you will likely never meet personally. But to me I am asking help for my family. I have put my heart and soul in to this. I can’t think of living a different life. I wish I could help more not only here but also help those in need in other parts of the world. This just happens to be the place God has for me at this moment. I know you probably don’t truly care anymore than you did when you first started reading this as I was once like that myself. My eyes have been opened though through reading and trying to better understand the will of God. Love is the key factor in it all and the most important. First to love him and then to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. I can’t see a way to not care about God’s people. This is why I care. P.S. Always be looking for that moment when God winks to let you know you are right where you are supposed to be. Sacrifice is a word that is used very freely these days with little understanding about what sacrifice is. It is a word I have used at times and later regretted using it. With what I do and where I do it I see poverty at a level few will ever see other than in a commercial or a movie. I have seen children eating left overs found in a trash dump. I have visited with people whose homes were nothing more than some scrap wood and plastic. But it wasn’t sacrifice it was situational. I have been told by people what a sacrifice I make by coming here. I try to tell them I sacrifice nothing compared to some. This past weekend I saw sacrifice. I saw dedication to serving on a whole different level.
I was chatting with a friend the other day who was telling me a story about a Pastor and his wife who were relocating to a different area to minister. They were staying with friends while trying to sell their home so they wouldn’t have two mortgages. They were searching for a church home to serve at as leaders. It all sounded great at the beginning of the story. Then came the sad part of the story. They were looking for a home in the $5-600k price range with 5 bedrooms. Now at first I was thinking they must have kids and will need the room. Well sadly that was not the case as all of their kids were gone. They said that they had become used to a home that size and needed the space. They said they were willing to “sacrifice” and go with a 4 bedroom if the size of the house was enough and it was in a good community. I was almost in tears at this point. Then it came time to talk about what kind of church they were looking to serve at. The Pastors response was “well we need to be paid well because we are used to living well”. Now I am getting a little mad. I am thinking this dude needs to come here and see how I live and do things before he talks about sacrifice. The day after hearing this story I went on a mission trip to visit a pastor friend with 50 or so others from local churches. We were going to evangelize and encourage the pastor and invite people to his church. The last pastor had let the church pretty much die and it had no members left. The pastor that took over is named Silver. Silver is a young pastor only 23 years old. He and his wife and 6 month child moved in to the “pastoral house” located next to the church. It is a 15x15 building constructed of locally milled wood and a tin roof. There is only one room but a curtain dividing the house gives it two rooms. There is neither electricity nor running water. There is actually no water at all because the well has run dry. With there being no members there is no tithing so no income for the pastor. I was honestly focusing on myself as I thought of the pastor that wanted the big house and big salary. I was getting ready to be up in the mountains with no electricity or water. No cell phone or laptop. Not even a bed just a hammock to sleep in. I would be outside sleeping with all of the bugs and stuff (nica has some scary looking bugs). I wouldn’t get a “proper” shower the next day just a bucket of water poured over my head if I was lucky. I almost called to say I wasn’t going to go. God was probably shaking his head at me in disappointment when I considered backing out because I wasn’t going to be comfortable. Once there I looked at the pastors house and thought “wow how selfish are you”? This guy who is smart and more than capable of going and finding work to support his family is living here with none of the things we “think” we can’t live without. He wakes up in the morning with one sole purpose and that is to serve God. He walks the community because he has no car or motorcycles not even a bicycle. He visits the people to offer prayer and counsel. He went to a church that was dead. No members to speak of and took it one with an unwavering faith. That was sacrifice right there for me to see. We get so comfortable in our lives that we rarely realize we don’t need half of the stuff we have and take fore granted the things we have that others desperately need. We think if we take part of our bonus check and instead of getting a new pair of golf clubs we give part of it to the church. Not all of it you know because we need that for vacation and stuff. We sacrifice by DVRing the game instead of watching it live so we can go play on the church softball league because that’s “serving” in the church ya know! I sacrifice nothing to do what I do here. I don’t have AC but neither did people for 100s of years before me. I have security here, no one is trying to kill me like missionaries in the Middle East and Asia. I don’t have a TV but there is nothing worth watching anyways. I live alone and am single but I have a huge support group here and at home. I always have a way to eat as friends are always willing to share a meal. I don’t talk to my family that often but they are only a phone call away. God wants us to sacrifice things for him. He always has. He sacrificed his son but we can’t sacrifice more than two days a week to show how we appreciate that sacrifice. We have to give him our all. All of our talents, time, riches, and most of all an undying love just as he gives us. Heat and the smell of diesel fumes have become a sense of home to me much like the smell of pines of North Carolina. I doubt I will ever truly fit in like a local but I am pretty close now. When I get comments like “that man more Nica than gringo” you kinda feel like you have made it. I don’t know the language as well as I should yet but I know enough Nica slang to get a good laugh when I screw up words. I have been taken in like family. I have been in a way adopted by so many here. I tell people all the time it’s a God thing and it truly is. I have been accepted with my faults and all. I gain true love because of my efforts to do what is necessary to become closer to my friends here. It speaks to me like the love God has for us. He accepts our faults and loves us. The closer we get to him the more we feel that love.
I have seen God move in so many ways while here. I can recall “big” moments and some small. Just the other day I saw an 11 year old child make a sacrifice for another person in need. There was a teenage girl at our children’s program who is hearing impaired. She can’t speak and only communicates with hand gestures. You could see the sadness on her face when the leader was going over the story and she couldn’t tell what was going on. The 11yr old Aurelli motioned to her and told her to look at the packet she handed her. It was coloring book pages that went along with the story being told. The deaf girl Gabriela got the biggest smile on her face. She was brought in to the group sitting at the table and felt that same joy we get when we feel that love from God. It made my heart smile to see that moment. I was chatting with a group of mission workers the other day over a cup of coffee. They were sharing about what they would be doing during their time in Nica. I love hearing stories from others about missions. I have kind of gotten used to my daily grind and it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. I forget how different everyday life is for me here compared to back home. Little things like having to take a taxi with 6 grown adults in it to church and find a ride back usually on the back of a friend’s motorcycle. The fact that it’s rainy season doesn’t stop the trip. I told the guys a few taxi stories and their response was “God has been looking after you”. In that moment I realized that I had gotten so used to life here that I have started overlooking the blessings from God that happen daily. I felt like a bit of a hypocrite after telling so many friends that they don’t have to be in a foreign country to see God move that they need to be looking at all things every day. I sometimes forget to do that myself. God moves daily if you open the eyes of your heart you will see it. It can be a dog chasing its tail or something as big as cancer being healed. Look for those moments in your day search for them with relentless effort. A while back I put something out on our Facebook page about things you may want to ask about our ministry or me personally. I got some responses but not many. I thought it would be good to finally answer some of those questions and some that have been posed in the past.
I have been asked many times what got me in to doing missions. That could be answered so many ways. The quick answer is I had a strong foundation from a Christian family. That did not however stop me from rebelling in my youth and making some poor choices. I spent many years doing things I am not proud of but yet it has made me who I am today. I still live with some of the consequences from those poor choices but they are no one’s fault but my own. After the years of bad decisions I finally made a right one and returned to church. After some time of healing and asking forgiveness I noticed a difference in my life. I was asked to join a small team from church to join them on a trip to Nicaragua. The moment I stepped off of that plane my world changed. My struggles were nowhere near what I thought they were. The way I worshiped was nowhere near where God wanted it to be and my love paled in comparison to where God wanted it shown in my life. I felt the calling and even though it took two or three more short term trips to realize. Nicaragua is where God was calling me. I had trials to go through during my time in Nica and would actually change what I was doing there to suit what God was calling me to do. I was asked once how I plan for trips and do those plans always go the way I plan them. I used to plan down to the day however I quickly learned that missions work especially here goes on its own schedule. Nica has its own way of going through its day. If you say 5pm don’t expect anyone until 30-45 minutes later. For those of you that think you’re smart and would just say 30-45 minutes before you actually want someone there that only works once or twice before they figure you out then they will be 1-2 hours late. It’s neither rude nor done on purpose it’s just how it is. I have learned to plan a tentative schedule and then leave it to God’s timing. His way usually works better than mine anyways. “What is the biggest struggle you face”? That question could take me a while to answer but I will keep it short for now. The biggest thing I struggle with is the things I don’t share publicly. What I mean by that is when I am face to face with a problem that I can’t fix or help. One example is a young man named Oscar. The day I met Oscar was a heart wrenching day. I walked up to his house and could smell urine almost immediately. When I got closer I saw a special need young man that was literally chained to the wall. He had a clasp around his skinny ankle, that clasp had a chain connected to it that was cemented in to the wall. You could tell this was a permanent thing. This was not a temporary fix to a temporary problem this was his life and had been for a while. These are stories I usually only share with a select few. There are many more similar stories like Oscar some worse some not as bad but still heart breaking. Another struggle and will always be a struggle is getting support for what I do. This struggle has a lot of components. There is the struggle of having people say they are going to support you and you get all excited but then nothing comes in. This adds to the struggle of cynicism. I struggle with trying not to get angry when I see people complain about being broke or not having money but see an endless amount of vacation photos or Starbucks selfies. When I see someone talk about their $40 Yeti cup I can’t help but to think of how many people I could feed with that much money. A hard struggle is being away from family. I miss my son and my niece and nephew. I miss my mom and dad and other friends while I am in the field here. I often catch grief for being here so much when I have a son at home. My normal response is a bit sarcastic but still very true “If I was a solider going off to war, you would call me a hero. I am on God’s battle field and you want to give me grief for it”. I do miss my son with all that I have. We talked at length before I took on the role of full time missions and he agreed that it was something that was needed and worthy. I don’t let the criticism get to me like it used to but at times it still troubles me. The flip side of that coin is the way I miss my family and friends here when I am at home. No I don’t have blood family here in Nica but my close friends are my family. “What is the craziest thing you have done, eaten or experienced as a missionary”? There are about 100 different ways I could answer this one. We will start with the craziest thing I have done. I would have to say the not so smartest thing I have done was chase an 8 foot boa constrictor in to a mango orchard with a machete or the time I went deep in to the mountain woods with a disgruntled Nicaraguan that was carrying a machete. The craziest thing I have experienced would be everyday life here to be honest it’s always an adventure but I am getting used to it and it is normal for me now. One time sticks out in my head though would be a trip back from Omotepe Island with friends and the taxi driver had a coke bottle as a gas tank hanging from his rearview mirror. It was hanging upside down and had a tube running through the AC vent to the carburetor. That wasn’t the crazy part. It was scary and unusual but not crazy. The crazy part came when the driver fired up his cigarette right beside said gas tank/bottle. I was sitting in the middle of two full grown men in the backseat but was the first one with feet on the ground. There was another time that our minivan broke down in Honduras and we pulled it back with clothesline string all the way back to Nicaragua. Now to the question I get asked the most. The craziest thing I have eaten. Well I have defiantly thrown back some strange grub. Top three would have to be Grilled guinea pig in Ecuador and Iguana and coconut grubs in Nicaragua. The craziest drink was chichi de Yucca in the indigenous zone in Ecuador where the lady of the house chew yucca until it is liquefied and then spits it in a cup for you to drink before entering the house. This is not the norm though. I typically dine on rice beans and chicken. There are those occasions where tongue and other treat meat are served but rice and beans is the norm. I will try to get to some of the other questions on a later blog but now it’s time to get back out there I have almost become accustomed to seeing things out of the ordinary. I have seen handcuffed horses and pigs being drug through the market by their feet. Almost nothing surprises me or throws me off my game anymore. One thing that still gets me though is the public transportation. I have road in taxis in the states before and gotten a little scared of the driving as I am a nervous rider by nature. At least in the States the biggest worry is finding a safe driver because the cars are usually pretty safe. Taxis in Nica however are an adventure every time. You may get lucky and get a newer car but that still leaves the driver. Here is a collection of my favorite taxi stories. First timer: I had been to Nicaragua several times at this point but never had to rely on public transportation. This morning I decided to travel out to the house by myself so I could stop and visit friends in town. I stood at the roadside and hailed the first cabbie. He promptly pulled over and told me to get in. I looked inside and saw six other people already in the cab so I waved him off. The second cab pulled over and there were five in this one and again I waved him off because to me the cab was full. By the time the third cabbie stopped I realized that occupancy limits were null and void here so I hopped in with six others to ride to town. The taxis in Nica work by routes one taxi take you to where you can get another taxi to complete your journey. After visiting with friends I made my way to the taxi stand that would get me to my destination. I told the driver where I was headed and he said ok but did not move. Several other people showed up and gave the driver their destination and he still just sat there chatting with his fellow drivers. He finally stood up and gave the let’s go signal and it was a mad dash to find a seat as there were six of us waiting to go. We all pile in to this four passenger taxi. Yes that is six adults and a driver for a total of seven adults in this compact car. As we were making our escape from the taxi stand a rather healthy lady flagged the driver. He stopped and the only thing I could think of was there is no way she will fit in this car. Oh how I was wrong. Not only did she fit she managed to squeeze the toddler with her in as well. We now have eight adults and a child with us for this adventure. Luckily there were no others wanting a ride or so I thought. We made it about a ¼ mile and got flagged down. I looked in the car and knew this time there was no way possible. I was right this time and the rider acknowledged and just jumped on the trunk of the car and yelled let’s ride. I was the second stop for this ride and it must have looked like a clown car when I got out because the guards had a big laugh when I emerged. I just thought to myself “well that was fun”. Riding blind: This adventure begins at the cemetery taxi stand. I sat on a bench waiting for enough customers to fill a taxi and trying to figure out what driver was up next on the route. After about twenty minutes one of the cabbies pulls forward and motions to get in. Luckily there were only four of us this trip. As soon as I got in I was motioned to get out. I had no clue why as I had not spoken to the guy so I knew I had not called his mother a Goat or anything in my broken Spanish. Luckily there was a guy at the stand who spoke enough English to give me direction. The driver needed help pushing his cab in order to jump start it. That should have been my first clue as to how this ride was to unfold. Soon after push starting the cab and jumping in we were off. We make it maybe two hundred yards and he kills the engine. We coasted about three hundred yards and he jump starts it again. This was repeated the entire ride. After the third time I looked at the driver and noticed that he had a rag covering his face. I thought well it is dusty but then noticed that his entire face was covered including two very important components of driving, His eyes! My nerves along with many prayers shot through the roof. Even more un-nerving was when we met traffic on the road. He seemed to know it was coming. It was like a sixth sense or something because he would slow and move to the side. (By slow I mean he took it down from 50 to 35 on this choppy dirt road). The first lady gets out and pays and then I get out to push start the cab again. We were nearing my stop and I told him where I was headed. Even with his eyes covered he stopped maybe forty foot shy of my stop. I was amazed how well he knew the route. The lady next to me started to yell at him and I can only assume she was telling him he stopped a bit short. He apologized and moved up to right beside the gate. This time the guards were belly laughing at me for one because I had to push the car again and two little did I know this driver was literally blind! So the rag over his eyes meant nothing because he couldn’t see anyways. Yet another case of God protecting me and probably getting a big laugh at my expense. The sardine affects: I thought to myself before entering this vehicle that I have had plenty of taxi rides before so this can’t be that bad. Oh how I was wrong and unprepared. I stood at the stop with my friends and before me pulls up a microbus. This is basically an extended minivan used for public transportation. There are about thirty people standing at the stand as the door opened. I was ill prepared for the mad dash that was coming. My friend Denis looked at me and said hurry up. As I was shoved in to the bus by the folks behind me I realized my friends were better prepared than I was because they had saved me an actual seat. If it were not for that I would have been standing for this ride. As we took off like pigs running from the butcher I looked around and did a quick head count. There was a sign from the manufacturer that clearly said fifteen person limits. I counted the seats first and came up with fifteen. I then counted the people and came up with twenty seven. That was a little much I thought but that was the least of my worries. As we sped through the mountains with little regard to the safety of us or anyone with in a hundred yards I quickly realized it was time to pray. My friends could obviously see it on my face because they all began to chuckle. I promptly put on my shades so that they could not see that my eyes were glued shut in fear and nervously smiled like I Was enjoying all of this. One hour later we reached our destination and as I exited I mentally kissed the ground and looked up and thanks again big guy. Trial by fire: Standing at the port of the ferry I had just exited thirteen friends and I begin to look for a cab to take us to the bus station. I knew by this point that here would only be a need for two cabs because there were not enough of us to fill three cabs. So we track down two drivers and haggle out a price that suited our pockets. The cabbie I was chosen to ride with looked like a nice guy. Pretty well dressed and seemed to be polite so I thought this can’t be too bad. We throw our bags in the trunk and squeeze in the cab. As hard as it may be to believe I was the smallest of the bunch so I got the middle. I sat there chatting it up with my friends laughing and reminiscing about the trip we had just returned from and then it happened. Something glimmered and caught my eye. The sun had caught his rear view mirror ornament just right and I took notice. It was a one liter coke bottle hanging upside down. Upon further inspection I notice that there is a tube coming from the bottom going in to the A/C vent. It made me curious so I take another look at the bottle and quickly realize it is filled with gas! At first I was impressed with the drivers’ ingenuity and the danger of the contraption had not yet crossed my mind. That only lasted about half a second and I started to go in to freak out mode. The driver did little to calm my fears as he hit every pot hole on the road (on purpose I think) and the bottle shook about like a piñata. My fears were then quickly escalated further when the driver whom I thought was the right choice made his next move. He reached in to his front pocket and pulled out what looked like cigarettes. I was thinking there is no way he is gonna light that thing next to the Molotov cocktail he has hanging beside him. I was wrong and he did. My Spanish may not be the best in the world but I learned quickly from previous cab rides how to say “Aquí no hay más” which means here no further. Although I was in the middle I was the first to put shoes to pavement. And although I appreciated the drivers creative way of delivering gas his safety skill led me to another cab. Still gotta pay the piper One day I had to catch a taxi back to the office. Angela the director of the house was with me. We stood at the gate of the house for 30 minutes or so waiting and finally a cab pulls up. It was my buddy Norman's cab so we jump in with the other two passengers and head down the path. We stop to pick up someone else so now there are six grown adults in the car. As it often goes here there is always room for one more so we stop to pick up a lady waiting at the side of the road. Im looking to see where we can squeeze her in and see no where for her. Norman gets out and tell the last guy we picked up to get out. Normally if there is no room and it is a guy they will just jump on the trunk and hold on. That means he gets a free ride. Norman is to smart for that so he tells the guy to drive and he jumps on the trunk. Now that the guy rode inside even though he drove he has to pay for the ride. There is never a dull moment here and taxi rides are always an adventure. I have been home for a few weeks now. I have gotten rest I have eaten meals that had no rice or beans. I do still make my comfort food of gayo pinto (rice and beans) while I am stateside. It would be really easy for me to kind of forget all things missions to give my mind and heart a rest but that is not the way god wants it. He wants all of me all of the time and I as a Christian should be more than happy to give him my all. He did give his son for me. Many people come to me and say "Oh there is no way I could do what you do, leaving the country and all" or I will here "I haven't been called to do foreign missions". That may very well be true. We are not all called to far off places. But we are called. We were charged by Jesus before he left this world to sit at the right hand of our Father to go and make disciples. You don't have to go far to do missions. We had a day at my home church recently called "Grace in Action" it was an outreach day where we go out in the community and serve others. I chose to do a laundry service. I along with a friends Mike who I had just met that morning went to a local laundry mat. I knew it was near a Latin grocery store and figured my limited Spanish may come in handy. Plus I could use the practice. It turns out I only used my Spanish twice. Once to ask permission to go in the laundry and pay for peoples laundry to be done. That is what we wanted to do. Stop folks before they paid for the load of clothes pay it for them and share about Jesus for a second. One lady came in and I gave her the quarters to pay for the load she smiled and thanked me. A few moments later she asked if we could chat. I said of course that's why we are here. She almost instantly went in to full blown tears. She had recently lost her son. She was asking all sorts of questions and really opening up to me. After about twenty minutes I shared about some churches I knew of that she could visit. Our going out was not to increase the number of people in the seats of my home church but to hopefully increase the number of people in seats in Heaven. She thanked me and I gave her a hug and told her she would be in my prayers. She walked out with a smile. A while later a little old lady came in just to dry her clothes. I threw the money in before she could even open her purse. She just looked at us and said "Wow what a blessing you are". She shared that her husband was at a local rehab home in town and we sure had blessed her. The next night at church the Pastor and I were chatting about the previous day and what a blessing it was. He said "You know what, it sure is amazing how many people got touched.We were at the rehab center and a man had to call his wife to tell her about us singing. He told her that she received a blessing from a guy at the laundry mat. How amazing is that"? The Pastor did not know I was at the laundry may but could see the smile on my face. I had to tell him that we talked to her. We both chuckled and said see that our mission field is right here in front of us. How true that is. You don't need a passport or to know a different language. You just need to be willing to love.
 5am in the morning came really early, but the day was surely going to be a blessed day. I was so excited about what was happening today I barely slept. We prepared our lunch and dinner for the day because we had a full agenda. First stop would be Granada for a baptismal service. Two churches gathered together and loaded the bus for the hour and a half trip to the lake. We drove the truck because we had plans later inn the night t a different church.  We all gathered on the beach for prayer and service to talk about the importance and significance of water baptizing. After group prayer we made our way to the water. The whole group sang as we entered the water. The waves were pretty rough as it was very windy this day. Pastor Johnny played the guitar while fighting the waves Wendy was taking pictures and trying to keep the camera dry. It was rather funny to me because I didn't have to fight the waves as much because I am quite a bit taller than all the others. We finally made our way to a depth that would work and we got in a circle to begin the service.  After another prayer service we began the service. There were four people getting baptized today. I didn't know until later it was a family that had decided to all get baptized together. I had to take a second to gather myself. This was my first time assisting in a baptismal service. I honestly had to question myself on my qualifications to even be doing this. I was reassured by pastor Johnny that I was and that he was honored by me helping him. This was such an awesome day. To first be witness to the service and to top it off I was blessed with being able to help.  After the service we gathered on the beach for a time of food and fellowship. It was a great time of laughter and sharing and reflecting on all that had happened earlier. The kids played in the water and had a blast. It was truly a blessing to see.  After the baptismal service we were off to Managua. We would be visiting my friend Pastor Eliel Hernandez's church while they celebrated the Lord's supper. All of the different home groups from the church were there and it was such a fitting end to the day. Eliel's church had there baptism that morning as well and the newly baptized brothers and sisters took part in there first Lord's supper. This trip has blessed me in so many ways it is hard to describe.God is good
Today is the first day of the second half of the year. When 4everforward was started 2015 was supposed to be a year of gathering information and confirming our direction. I personally never expected so much to happen so soon. I knew it could but honestly thought it would take more time. In January we took our first trip to a new place Ecuador, South America.. I had never been there before and wasn't sure what to expect. I found it to be much like Nicaragua a place I call my second home. While there we had the honor of visiting several different churches in several different locations. We visited the coastal region and even the Andes mountain region. we saw new things like live wild llamas and guinea pigs being grilled street side. It was an amazing experience and gained many new friends and ministry partners.
Upon returning to Nicaragua we fully expected it to be a fact finding informational type trip. We had no plans of taking on any projects this soon. Within two weeks God showed that he had different plans. It goes to show you when he is ready he is ready so you better be ready. We took on our first project trying to help finance the building of a new home for a lady pastor whose home was in pretty bad shape. Within a few days God answered our prayer. So we decided why stop at one and wanted to help another lady pastor here in much the same situation. Within two weeks God answered that prayer. A week or so later we were in Honduras ministering to people there. This made our third country in less than half a year. We have received help on so many levels. The prayers have been felt and people have been fed both spiritually and physically. There is no box imaginable to put God in. When he is first you will be blessed and be able to bless others. Thank you all who support us we can never thank you enough. God Bless  It all started out great and with much excitement. Seven pastors and 5 "gringos" headed from Nicaragua to Honduras for a week of evangelizing. A small microbus pulls up that can hold 10 people comfortably if they are small and short. Looking around at the five we were neither small or short. Thirteen of us pile in and pack like sardines in the seats that had been baking in the sun for the past hour. We had 400 km to go this day and would be crossing in to new territory for me. It all started fun , well at least the first hour and a half that is. Then My butt went numb followed shortly by the complete lower half of my body. Keep in mind most folks here are short so the seats are much closer together which leaves little room for long legs. The local pastors that were traveling with us quickly realized we passed time by being completely silly and cracking jokes with each other. We have a no mercy rule on trips and if you are sensitive you won't last long.  The scenery was breath taking. The mountains and volcanoes were a treat to see. Trying to teach my friends how to say the names of the volcanoes was even more of a treat. Arriving at the border we had some time to stretch our legs and regain feeling in our lower appendages. Shortly after getting out we realized how difficult travel would be. There was an issue with the paperwork on the recently purchased microbus that took about three hours and someone riding a motorcycle from Managua to the border to get straight. Some may have seen it as an obstacle but I thought it was a blessing. It gave us one on one time with the pastors. It gave us time to laugh and get to know the people we would be spending the next week with (sometimes in very close quarters).  We make it to Chuluteca about an hour before service. Just in time to eat and change clothes. Pastor Jorge and his family were so good to us. The currency exchange is different there and that took some help from him to figure out the price of things. I have the Cordoba math down now but take that 7.5 cent difference in to account and I am lost. Service that night was great and dinner afterwords was just as good. We tied hammocks and inflated mattresses in the church for sleeping or just laid on the concrete floor. Either way we were beat and going to sleep good regardless. The next morning came shower time. This was new to some. There was a concrete water storage tub that had a bucket floating in it. This isn't new to me so I knew to get the bucket and pour it over my head for a shower all while standing OUTSIDE the concrete water holder. My friends on the other hand got confused. One actually jumped in to the clean water and decided to take a swim. This was funny to the locals and to me as well. He didn't realize that the next person would now be bathing in his dirty bath water. It actually became quite the joke as the week went on. Later after breakfast we secured transportation to our next stop. Tegulcigalpa a 200 km trip  The microbus we secured for this ride was pretty nice. A/c and everything( Well at least for the first 20 minutes then it got cut off after we paid our passage). This ride was fun we all got to laughing and joking again sometimes even bringing strangers in to the mix of our shenanigans. We arrived at Pastor Rene's church and lunch was waiting for us. His church was constructed out of repurposed pallets and other wood. This would also serve as our living quarters for the night. The fellas started asking about the bathroom and as I pointed to the outhouse you could see the oh wow look on their faces. This would also be where we showered (with the bowl of water like the last church but instead of a concrete tub it was just a blue barrel of water). The nights service was awesome the praise and worship was outstanding my buddy Earl brought a great message and the prayer after was inspiring. After service we ate and figured out sleeping arrangements. Someone had let us borrow mattresses so no no one had to sleep on the floor. I tied my hammock but quickly realized that I would be sleeping in the shape of a U because I didn't have the room to properly tie it up. I got about an hours worth of sleep before tapping out and giving up. I laid there like a drawing of the Sesame street alphabet game for another hour. I got up and got my bowl bath and readied my bags for that days journey. We ate and then toated all of the baggage about a half mile to the road to wait for the bus.  This day would take us 600 km to Colon Honduras. I almost could not contain my joy when I saw the big bus pull up and saw it was a tour bus and would have A/C the whole ride and reclining seats. I wanted to sleep something fierce let me tell ya. My joy however was short lived. Once I sat down and realized how little leg room I actually had (remember I am in a country of short people). It turns out I was not the only tired person on the bus as the guy in front of me went in to full lounge position and nearly broke my knees. All of that aside I did actually get some rest. Oh and the A/C got cut off on this ride after paying passage as well. Four hours down and it was rest stop time. After picking on my friends for not paying to use the bathroom like they were supposed to there was a moment of bliss. As we got in line to get a cold drink and a snack a familiar sight struck my eye. Now when I am home I drink water. here I drink water or juice. I have not drank soda in a long time but let me tell you what the Mt. Dew I saw sitting in that cooler looked like an angel from above to me. I wanted to jump the counter and do a grab and gulp but the dude with the big shotgun caused me to rethink that strategy. I eargerly waited my turn and then pounced. I bought two on the spot. The first met an early demise and lasted all of about 5 seconds. The second one was sipped on and enjoyed. I even shared the joy that an Ice cold Mt. Dew can bring with my pastor friends who are now Mt. Dew junkies. we got back on the bus all jacked up on Mt. Dew and continued on our way. 5 hours later we get to Colon. The pastor pulls up and loads half the mission team in his truck and takes off. 20 Minutes later he returns for the rest of us. His wife had lunch waiting and man the fresh tortillas were off the chain. I saw an opportunity to share with my gringo friends something that was shared with me early on in my life as a missionary in Nica. A little red pepper on a bush caught my eyes and I searched for a willing participant/victim. Daniel was my first target. He said he liked spicy so I figured why not show him what spicy was. The first bite you could see the change. He went from slightly sunburnt to pale white then back to blood red in the face in about 20 seconds. He searched franticly for water as I just laughed an evil laugh. I quickly refocused on my hunt for victim two. This time it was Brad. He will eat anything you tell him taste good. I may have stretched the truth on the taste but did warn him it was a "little hot". As the flames shot out of every hole on his face just like a Saturday morning cartoon i couldn't hold my laughter. ( For the record I ate one as well but didn't chew so it didn't hurt as bad). Service that night was awesome as well even thought the translator struggled. Daniel delivered and awesome word and seemed to have recovered from Chillipeppergate earlier that day. The service was jam packed and this church was alive. There were so many needs that were asked to be prayed for. we laughed cried and danced. It was a special night. As we made our way back to the pastors houe we were given another gift. we all had real mattresses and even better than that we a had a toilet with a door and a stand up shower. It's the little things like that that we all appreciated that night. The next day we had a chidrens service at the church full of games and skits. There was a session of Pastor musical chairs and they actually played harder than the kids did. It was such a joy to see all of the smiling faces. Afterwords we went down to the river for a swim. the water was so clear and cool. It was such a relief from the heat of the day. That night it was Davids turn to bring the message. he did a wonderful job despite some rowdy children that we had gotten jacked up on candy earlier that night and having the same translator who struggled as the night before. The prayer time was one of the strongest the whole trip. They served us dinner after and then we hopped back on the bus for an hour ride back to the pastors house.  We had reached the half way point in our trip. Early the next morning we make our way back to Teguligalpa 600km by bus. This time I got a good seat and it was a comfortable ride. We made it back to Pastor Rene's church but hit a snag that turned out to be a blessing as it almost always does. No translator means no preaching by Gringos. It was my night and I was a little dissapointed until they said Denis was preaching. I love hearing this man preach. Not just because he is my best friends here but because the man is anointed. After service it was back to sleeping U style but at this point I was so beat I could have slept any where in any shape.  We made our way back to Chuluteca the next morning and back to the first church we visited. Tonight was my night. I got the grand prize of translators. I had a professor of English partnering with me. She was awesome. it was a joy to work with her and bring the word and know it was all being translated correctly. This was our last service and we ended on a good note. people were moved and relationships restored.  The next morning bright and early we got all packed up and headed out. It was back to Nicaragua for us. My friends were excited but sad because they would be returning home the next day. For the rest of us it would be back to work and life as normal. The ride started out great. although we were tired we were still upbeat. About 15km in to the ride however we noticed an issue. The micro bus was overheating. This went on for every 5-10 km we would ride then stop ride then stop. My friends were getting nervous and it showed. The pastors however hardly reacted. The thing was many were getting caught up in the problem instead of looking at the blessings that were happening every time we would stop. Every stop the pastors came together as one to remedy the issue. One other thing happened. We needed water every stop so we would have to go to the nearest house and ask for water. Not only did we get help every time we got prayed for every time. One of the stops some children were playing near the road and stopped to watch us when we had another overheating issue. These children took our drink bottles and an empty jug we had and ran down to the river to get us water. For there trouble we paid them with some dum dum suckers and gave them a few dollars. It should be an interesting story for them to tell their friends. The day the dirty smelly gringos and Nicaraguans broke down in front of there house.
We finally limped our way to the border and wouldn't you know we had the same issue getting back in to Nica as we had getting out of Nica. So the same man had to hop on his motorcycle and ride the two hours just to say yes it's ok that they pass. A phone call wouldn't do it he had to be there in person. At the next check point the micro bus got sprayed down and disinfected. We made our way across and we were off and all was good again. That was until we made it 15 km and over heated again. two stops later it was decided that it was time to tow the van the rest of the way. There is no AAA or roadside assistance here and you don't leave a vehicle on the road unless you don't want it anymore. We had some clothesline rope we weaved together and tied the van to the small truck that carried all the luggage. My friends were starting to freak out a little. I was good to go this kind of thing is normal to me now. They didn't understand that the slower we went the more time we had together. We were as safe as you can be on any road and really no need to worry. We did great for about an hour then hit Chinendega. They have speed bumps and that's all it took for the truck to rip the grill guard off of the micro bus. We were close to a pizza place and all week we talked about getting pizza so we cranked the bus back up and made it to the pizza place. While there we went in scramble mode to try and find a solution that would get my friends back quicker so they could rest before flying out. A brother from one of the church's volunteered to come and get the gringos and get them back to the office. I stayed behind to assist in getting the van back with the others. The brother brought us a tow bar to replace the rope we were using. It took about 30 minutes to tie the grill bar back on and secure the tow bar. We were off again. It was a long slow ride. We finally made it to the office at 2:30 am and worked quickly to get things settled down so we could get an hour of sleep before having to take the gringos to the airport at 4am. So to recap the day I was up at 4am we left Honduras at 9am for what was supposed to be a 6 hr trip that ended up taking 17 hrs but was filled with so many blessings. Never focus on the bad only on the good and you will find yourself a happier person with a much better attitude in life |
