This Is It

I've been avoiding this. I would refuse to believe that a year has passed already, except that the calendar would quickly prove me wrong, so I'll settle with being mystified that a year could go by in what seems to be only a few weeks. I'll still check the calendar just to make sure, but it will only tell me that it's been 11 months and 3 days since I moved to Honduras. Parts of me are looking for where Time hid the last 11 months, but other parts of me feel like they've been here all along.  It feels like a lifetime ago that I didn't know some of my, what I would now call, best friends. Regardless of how long it seems that it's been, I leave tomorrow.  

I'm not sure what it's going to be like living in the States again. I'll probably be late to everything for a while now that my sense of punctuality has been Latinized. I'll probably freeze to death since I haven't seen temperatures south of 70 in a while. But in reality, I don’t expect things to be all that different. All year long I have been thinking about what it looks like to weave the gospel into everyday life because that's essentially what I've done here. I haven't done anything special in Honduras. I've done essentially what I was doing before I moved here, but I've learned a lot about how to make the gospel relevant and apparent in every relationship. I have relationships with all kinds of people in Honduras, I'll have relationships with all kinds of people in America. The context will be different, but gospel can be weaved just the same. 

It's been a great year. Thank you for your support, financial and prayerful. Thank you for the cards, messages, and encouragement. I couldn't have been here at all if it weren't for other people who joined me.  

The Honduras chapter has been written, now to be re-read and revisited. Stay tuned.

Degrees of Gospel Separation

I always write to process.  I've had to sit on this one for a while now because I had to do a lot of fleshing out of my own idea.  I've tried to explain myself the best I know how, but if I fail to do so, I do apologize.

It's often times a struggle to decide which activities to participate in and which ones not to participate in. In life on the mission field, there is so much need and so many things that could be done, how do you decide which one(s) to actually do? (I wouldn't dare relegate  this conundrum to missionary life only, but that's my current context, so that's where I'll take it). I'll pose my question to start:

How close is people coming to know Christ away from what I am doing?  In other words, how many degrees of separation are there between the act that I am doing and people coming to know Christ?

First, some much needed disclaimers:

1. Regardless of the answer to that question, the gospel is always the ultimate goal.  Missionary or not, the proclamation of the gospel and people coming to understand that gospel must be underlining every decision I make. Because the gospel can always be shared directly during whatever it is that I do, it doesn't help me decide which activities to participate in; it is common across the board.  In math, if the lowest common denominator is removed from a set of numbers, the remainder numbers will have nothing else in common, they are the control set. Similarly, if I remove the common denominator of sharing the gospel from a set of potential activities because it can be done in all of them, what results is a set of activities that are distinct from each other. So, in answering this question, I'll eliminate redundancy by not taking into account the fact that the gospel can be shared directly in all of them.

2. The Spirit rules.  We ought to always lean on him as our rock and ultimate guide. In reality, nothing I do is definite as the Spirit always has the freedom to change my plans at any moment.  No questions asked.  My logic and determination cannot be put above the prompting of the Holy Spirit.  The rest of the argument is born out of this truth…


Many times, God does not show us exactly what we ought to do.  Often times, God gives us a big picture task like "go and make disciples," but he doesn't always give us the details.  It'd be great if Matthew had written a step-by-step footnote about how Jesus wanted us to go about evangelizing the world. Unfortunately, however, he didn't.  That means a lot of decisions are left up to us.  Since we are incredibly fallen creatures, we often miss the mark of carrying carry out what we have been commanded.  We sometimes begin strong and devoted, but, little by little, things creep in from the outside and alter our focus. Surely, God saw this coming when he decided to leave the spreading of the gospel up to us, so he sent us his Spirit.  We always have the Spirit inside of us, guiding us, comforting us, strengthening us to continue on in the work of the Lord. Even still, many things are left up to us to decide.  For example, when there are many options on my plate, and when after much prayer and seeking the guidance of the Lord clarity is still not present, how do I decide which things to participate in and which things to pass on? My answer is by no means infallible, but for now, it's my best attempt at tackling this issue.

I'll call it "degrees of gospel separation."  The proclamation of the gospel is the ultimate end of everything of which I'm a part here in Honduras. I don’t build churches just to build churches, but to provide  a congregation with an adequate meeting area in which the gospel will be proclaimed for many years to come.  I don't dig wells just to give clean water, but so that people can hear about and understand what it means to drink Living Water. Often times though, the desired end result, the proclamation of the gospel, is not an immediate end.  Sometimes there are other steps that have to happen first in order for the desired end to be generated.  Here are a couple of examples (they don’t apply to me, just random examples).

Ex 1: I could build a house for a cook to come live and work at a school so that kids could have a meal so that the school is an attractive option so that parents will send their kids to that school so that the school will stay open so that they can hear about Jesus.  6 degrees of separation.
Build a house so that…
1. Cook can come so that…
2. Kids can have a meal so that…
3. School is an attractive option because of lunch program so that…
4. Parents send their kids to the school so that…
5. The school can stay in operation so that…
6. The students can hear about Jesus.

Ex 2: Open a coffee shop to build relationships to share the gospel. 2 degrees of separation.
Open a coffee shop so that…
1. Relationships can be built so that…
2. The gospel can be shared and disciples can be made.

These are only two examples, but I hope you can see my point.  The gospel isn't always proclaimed immediately after the work is completed, and that's okay.  But if that's the case, logic seems to play a role. It only stands to reason that the more degrees of separation that exist between my initial act and the desired end, the greater the possibility of the end not being generated.  There's simply more that can go wrong.  So here's the obvious rule of thumb that is born out of all of this: the more degrees of gospel separation, the greater the risk of the desired result not being generated. Conversely, the less degrees of separation, the greater the chance of the desired result being generated.  

The rule of thumb is easy to generate, but I haven't quite figured out how to interpret it yet. I can't, for example, automatically eliminate options that have more than X degrees of separation. I can't consign the work of the Lord to a silly man-made rule.  But, in theory at least, if two equally plausible options are presented, I should take the one that has less degrees of separation.  Less separation=less risk=higher probability of generated result.  

I would love to hear your opinion on this. I'm by no means married to this idea of degrees of gospel separation, so if you have questions, comments, or concerns, let me know! This is all part of the process of serving the Lord to the best of my ability and your feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Foxtrotting on a Friday Night

I'll be honest.  I'm not sure where this is going.  I usually write with a purpose in mind, but tonight, my fingers just need to dance without telling my mind why.  Much like a Southern Baptist wedding reception, they haven't danced much lately, but tonight, they're breaking out of the fellowship hall and foxtrotting down the street.  I don't have a clue how to foxtrot, or dance at all for that matter, so if this goes horribly wrong, don't blame me, blame my fingers.  

Today I burnt myself twice, both times with a drill.  The only danger I usually think of when using a drill is putting a hole in my hand, but today I managed to leave my left arm with two blisters.  I think I'll live though. Go figure.  Between the self-mutilatings, I actually managed to accomplish what I had set out to do.  This week I've been building handrails and an artesón for the church that Alan pastors. An artesón is one of those flat paneled roofs that sticks straight out of a building and is supported by steel cables anchored back to the main structure.  I seem to imagine one fitting in well at one of those modern-y type places like an architect's office in a remodeled downtown next door to a coffee shop named something like 'The Plaid Scarf' or 'The Rusty Button' where inside people drink fair-trade coffee out of big colorful mugs and read newspapers through black, thick-rimmed glasses with no lenses and stare at pictures of rusty tractors sitting in wheat fields at sunset.  In Honduras, however, the artesón has a different feel.  It works because it was cheap to build, simple in contents, and functional at its core.  I learned quickly that though it is in a foreign country, it is not foreign to unfamiliarity.  One Honduran working on the project said he'd never seen anything like it before.  Until I actually attached it to the building, they must have thought I was crazy by my explanation of how it was going to work.  Clearly they've never sipped fair trade coffee at The Plaid Scarf or eaten a $5.00 scone at The Rusty Button.  

But what if they got the chance to?  What if, instead picking the coffee, they were at The Plaid Scarf drinking it out of their own colorful mug?  What if, instead of making $5.00 a day to feed their family rice and beans and tortillas, they spent $5.00 on a blueberry scone that would curb their hunger for half an hour?  What if I was the one that had never been to The Plaid Scarf?  What if I was the one that thought if Americans could afford a $5.00 piece of bread, then they must all be rich?  The fact of the matter is, they won't and I'm not.  But that's the beauty of culture, we're not the same.  The owner of The Rusty Button knows how to make scones.  José knows how to cut grass with a machete.  If we were all the same, we'd live in a world either scone-less or overtaken by weeds.  We are very different, and I'm only in Honduras.  I can't begin comprehend the millions of cultural intricacies that exist among the thousands of tribes, villages, and people of Africa, Southeast Asia, and the South Pacific.  The incredible thing about the world we live in today is that we don't have to live trapped inside our cultural walls.  The owner of The Rusty Button  can come to Honduras and teach a lady how to make scones after her husband teaches him how to cut grass with a machete.  Our differences don't make us superior or inferior, they make us just as advertised…different.  And different is so wonderfully unique.  

Through the missing lenses of thick rimmed glasses we're pretty different.  The never-leave-home-without-it item of the Honduran, the machete, is very different than that of the American, the iPhone.  That doesn't even take into account the mindsets that go along with those things.  However, through the lens of the gospel, we are all the same.  Our differences quickly become an oxymoron, the same.  Humans, regardless of culture, language, or homeland, can be described universally as ones among whom

"There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God.  All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.  Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit.  The poison of vipers is on their lips.  Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.  Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and misery mark their ways, and the way of peace they do not know.  There is no fear of God before their eyes." Romans 3:10-18

Our sinfulness reduces us all to an even playing field.  On that field stands every person that has ever existed in the history of the world.  It is a playing field colorful with language, dress, and customs yet teeming with the rancid tang of vile sin against an infinitely holy God.  It is a playing field to which even the smallest slip-ups, the tiniest white lies, and the meager ounces of pride will damn us.  And it is a playing field that leads to no place other than the depths of an eternal hell.  

"But God" are the two single most important words in all of written history.  Yes, there was a time when we gratified "the cravings of our sinful nature and followed its desires and thoughts.  Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath.  But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ."  If there was no "but God," there would be no hope.  But because he loved us even while we were still rotten to the core, there is hope.  It came in the form of God in a man; his name was Jesus of Nazareth.  The centerpiece of history, he was born of a virgin and lived a sinless life.  During the 33 years he walked the earth, he was not on our playing field, but instead lived a life in perfect harmony with the Father, his Father.  He walked, ate, slept, and urinated, but he also performed miracles, healed, cured, and liberated.  His perfection, however, cost him his life, for false accusation and an imminent, painful, humiliating death was not enough to convince him to deviate from his purpose.  He was spat upon, stripped naked, beaten, tortured, enticed, humiliated, and ultimately nailed to a cross to hang until he died.  But even the physical torment the was put through was not the worst of it.  That wasn't even the tip of the iceberg.  The wrath that was pent up for justly damming each and every person on the playing field to the pit of hell, in a matter of hours, came charging down on his shoulders.  The nails that went through the bones in his wrists and feet no longer supported only his body weight, but now bore the weight of wrath from his Holy Father that was due every single sin of every single person that had ever or would ever walk the face of the earth.  The Father, couldn't even stand to look at his son anymore, but turned his face away because, you see, the Holy Father cannot be associated with anything unholy.  After hours of suffering, agony, and torment, he declared it finished and died.  

Satan rejoiced.  Death won.  The unconquerable God was conquered.  The Father of Lies had taken reign over souls of those on the playing field once and for all.  Until three days later.  Satan didn't realize that death could not hold this Jesus of Nazareth.  He did not realize that this Jesus could make himself live again and when he did, would break the chains of sin and death for evermore.  The souls on the playing field no longer were bound to it.  The Holy Father raised his son from the dead and, in doing so, shone an unmistakable light into the darkness that is death and roared to Satan that he shall not have the last word.  Since sin and death had been defeated, all those who believe in the One who sacrificed himself to bear the wrath due them can now have eternal life, enjoying fellowship with the Father for eternity until eternity.  The grave was not powerful enough to hold this Jesus, so he walked out and commanded, with all authority in heaven and earth, to those who would believe in Him, to "go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.  And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."


The world may be full of different people from different cultures with different skills, traditions, and customs but one thing remains the same, we're all in desperate need of hearing that story.  The Bible calls it the gospel and it is the cornerstone of Christianity. Its dispersion is the reason that millions of Christians have gladly died in the last two millennia and its proclamation to every tribe, nation, people, and tongue is indispensable, mandatory even.  

I mentioned earlier that today I accomplished everything I had set out to do, but I don't think that's entirely the truth.  It's not true because I don't live in Honduras so that I can build handrails and artesones.  I don't live in Honduras to build churches or houses or put on roofs to make people more comfortable.  I don't live in Honduras to help people have clean drinking water.  That would be a terrible waste of time because after building said house, the occupants may still go to hell, they'll just now go with a roof over their head. Or, after providing clean drinking water, the beneficiaries may still go to hell, they'll just go without parasites.  Roof or no roof, parasites or no parasites, it really doesn't matter all that much if you're on your way to an eternal torment.  If you care about the eternal state of a person's soul, humanitarian aid is a deceiving end in itself. No matter how good it makes you feel, providing temporary comfort does not equal eternal security.  It is, however, an effective means to an end.  In my case, I build handrails and artesones and churches and houses and roofs because while I'm doing it, I get the chance to spend time with people who need to hear that gospel story.  The construction is important as a means to the end of sharing the gospel.  In the long run, the soul of the person I'm working with will last much longer than whatever it is we're building.  For me, construction is only an excuse to spend time with local Honduran laborers who need to hear the story of the gospel.  

Unfortunately, there exists a thing called 'mission creep' that plagues me and, I imagine, many missionaries.  Mission creep is when you lose sight of your main focus and begin to focus on other, seemingly important, areas.  In other words, mission creep is then the means becomes the end.  The reason I can't truthfully say that I accomplished everything I set out to do today (and really all week) is because I selfishly neglected the souls of those working around me in favor of my own pride.  "My work is important right now."  "They'll still be here next week, I'll do it then."   Sure, I've had many conversations with one or two of them in the past about the gospel how that should affect us, but my pride rears its ugly head every chance it gets.  I ask you to pray with me that the means would remain the means and the end would remain supreme.  I desperately want this because I do desire for my friends and fellow workers to see that Christ has broken their chains.  They are not bound to the playing field any longer but have freedom in Christ, if they would submit to it.  

As I type those lines, I feel immediately compelled to write that even if I were to keep the means where it belongs and evangelize my heart out every hour of every day, I myself am only a seed sower.  If God would have it, I could be a waterer or harvester, but most likely I am only a seed sower.  That means that I cannot measure my effectiveness based of the number of converts I make or the depth of faith I cultivate.  I must do my part to share the story of the gospel, but it is completely and utterly up the power of the Holy Spirit to use that shared gospel and plant it firmly into a heart.  

I have less than five months left in Honduras.  I have five months left to keep the means the means and the end supreme.  When I return to the States, my mission will be much the same.  I may not be building handrails and artesones, but there will be a means, as there will always be people who need to hear the gospel, and the end never changes. It doesn't change for you and it doesn't change for me.  It’s the same in Honduras, America, Africa, Southeast Asia, and the South Pacific.  If you are a believer in the story of the gospel, and your 'end' is something other than to share that gospel with others and guide them in what it means for us, then you need a new end.

If you would like to talk to me about my time in Honduras when I return in January, or if you would like to talk about your own 'end', maybe we can meet up at The Rusty Button and talk about it over coffee.  

I don't drink coffee, but I hear their scones are phenomenal.    

Family

My birthday seems to have fallen on August 18th every year for the last 23 years.  For 17 of those years it also happened to fall on the first week of school, often times on the first day.  This year, although I completed years (as they say in Spanish) on the 18th of August again, it did not fall on the first week of school for me.  Instead of getting up on my birthday and going to class, I got up and went to a humble house church on the outskirts of Siguatepeque where I met with souls that were hungry in more ways than one.   I was humbled by the invitation from Junior, my Honduran mason friend, to a party at his house to celebrate mine and his dad's birthdays.  Instead of sharing a meal with my family at home, I shared a meal with my family in Honduras.

Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my camera to the party at Junior's.  I can tell you, though, that their hospitality was comforting.  I would have taken a picture of the piece of cake I was given, but it'll have to suffice for me to tell you that it was the size of a brick.  It's a good thing I like tres leches cake or else it would have been awfully difficult to stomach something that was no smaller than a shoebox.  I'll also use this time to warn you that the juice that comes out of hot tamales will actually burn you.  I found that out the hard way.  I was given three tamales to take home with me that were fresh out of the oven or stove or boiling water or whatever mean is used to cook tamales.   Despite being a safety hazard, they were delicious.  

At my second birthday party of the day I ate a comforting American meal of grilled chicken, squash casserole, coleslaw, watermelon, and chocolate cake.  It's rough being a missionary sometimes, you know?  A few days later, I was surprised with a birthday banana pudding from some other missionary friends.  If you're wondering why that is noteworthy, allow me to put it this way: instead of having a wedding cake, Laura and I are having a wedding banana pudding.  Needless to say, it was hands down the best banana pudding I've ever had in a third world country.  

Like birthdays tend to be, it wasn't all that different from any other day.  I did, however, enjoy my first birthday in a third world country.  I may not have been with blood on that day, but I was with family.  

Clouds, Pine Needles, and the Sovereignty of God

A few weeks ago, I made the two hour trek to San Pedro Sula to pick up a pair of fellow missionaries from the airport.  Siguatepeque sits on a plateau flanked on either side by mountains, so to leave the city, you have to go downhill.  To go from Siguatepeque, a fairly small city inundated with pine trees, to San Pedro, the sprawling industrial capital of Honduras, you have to go through at least four different terrains, each of which brings along its own climate.  First, as you leave the city you have to wind down a series of steep mountains.  To drive well along this stretch of road you have to be comfortable with the fact that a two lane road is actually a three or four lane road.  I never realized how much I take for granted the fact that in the US everybody on my side of the road was at least going in the same direction.  After the mountains comes the lake region.  This is my favorite part of the drive.  The road rises and falls gently as it hugs the contour of the lake.  Sometimes, you can feel the mist in the air on your left arm that hangs out of the driver's side window.  Some say it rains 13 months a year in this area, some claim 14.  After the lake, there's farmland.  Super flat and you can start to feel the heat.  Finally come the city and the airport.  The first stopights on the trip mean that you can really feel the change that has taken place in temperature.  I've heard it said that the temperature there is like walking through hell with a bucket of gasoline.  I prefer to liken it to Birmingham in mid-July.  Either way, hot.

There's some really amazing views on the drive.  It's rare that you can see both lines of mountains in Siguatepeque with much clarity, but that day  I was driving it was very clear.  I noticed the clouds while I was driving down through the mountains.  Their fluffiness struck me.  "What determines the fluffiness of each cloud?" I thought to myself.  "Does God tune each cloud to its exact degree of desired fluff?"  "Does God care about cloud fluffiness?"  Later as I was driving by the lake and I began to think the same thing about the pine trees.  "Is there a pine needle on a tree that is too long?"  "Does God grow each pine needle on each pine tree to an exact predetermined length?"  "Does God care about pine needle length?"  "If God really is sovereign over all things, can he let clouds determine their own fluffiness and the pine needles their own length?"  After a minute or so of thinking, I answered myself with a resounding "Of course not!"  

God can't let even the details of a cloud or a pine needle slip outside of his control.  If God is God of all and if he is Lord over all things, then he absolutely controls the clouds and the pine needles.  Later in the week, I was having a conversation with a friend about the sovereignty of God.  I mentioned that if God isn't sovereign over all things, if he doesn't control the clouds and the pine needles, then I'm not so sure I want to follow him.  If there was even a single thing in all of the universe that God didn't personally specify, designate, or design, that would mean that there are things that he can't control--something that he is not great enough to reign over.  But if God has enough interest in the clouds and the length of pine needles to determine their exact specifications, then there is no created thing that God's sovereignty, his infinitely perfect rule and control, has not affected.  That ought to have huge implications for my life.  

Be glad that there is not a cloud, a pine needle, a natural disaster, a terrorist attack, a death, a firing, an economic downturn, or a difficult family situation that God is surprised about.  

The clouds and the pine needles don't escape God's reign, so be comforted in the fact that your life doesn't either. 

The Best Place

I traveled to the United States last week, but I wouldn't say that I went home.

I had an awesome time.  I had anticipated my return for some time partly because I had kept it a secret and I couldn't wait to see the reactions from my grandmothers and aunt.  "Where did you come from?,"  "How did you get here?,"  "What's wrong? Why are you here?" were common first responses, after the screaming that is.  My ears quit ringing eventually.  My dad took off work the whole week I was home and my sister and bil ('brother-in-law' for those of you out of the loop) came to Birmingham for most of the week as well.   Last Saturday, as my grandad so eloquently put it, we celebrated 'Trey-Day.'  All my family from my mom's side and many from my dad's side were together all day.  We ate, swam, laughed, told stories, and, for the most part, forgot that I wasn't really home.  I mean, I was home, but I wasn't where I belong.

As much as I enjoyed 'Trey-Day' and spending all week with my family and other people that mean a whole lot to me, it felt so good to get back to Honduras.  I couldn't exactly explain it until today when I was talking to a friend in Siguat.  We crossed paths as I was walking back from the dumpster and he was returning from downtown buying a soldering iron.  He didn't know that I had gone to the States, so he wanted to know why I hadn't been around for a week and a half.  I told him I had to leave to renew my visa and I got to spend great time with my family and friends, but that I was glad to be back.

"Why?" he asked.

"It just feels good to be back where I know God wants me to be," I responded.

He looked back at me and said, "there's no better place to be than in the center of the will of God.  Even though you're away from your family , and friends, and Laura, and sometimes face very difficult circumstances, if you're doing the will of God, you're in the best place."

For His name's sake, it is worth leaving houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, even fiancée.  There are times when I doubt this truth.  There are times when I don't want to be here alone. There are times where it would be easier relationally, emotionally and financially to be back in Birmingham. It is usually in those times when I'm driven to my knees and ask God why on earth he has me here. He doesn't always give me the answer audibly from a friend carrying a soldering iron, but He is always faithful to be faithful.  It is not easy to count gain as loss for the sake of Christ, but at the very least, I'm learning.  I'm learning that following Christ is worth it, he must be worth all of it.

I recently finished reading Let The Nations Be Glad by John Piper.  The closing paragraph of the book jumped off the page at me because it inextricably points to why I'm here, why Christ is worth it, and ultimately, why we're all here.

It is our unspeakable privilege to be caught up with him in the greatest movement in history--the ingathering of the elect from every tribe and language and people and nation until the full number of the Gentiles comes in and all Israel is saved an teh Son of Man descends with power and great glory as King of kings and Lords of lords and the earth is full of the knowledge of his glory as the waters cover teh sea forever and ever.  Then the supremacy of Christ will be manifest to all, and he will deliver the kingdom of God to the Father, and God will be all in all.  

5 Things I've Learned in Honduras

There is no substitute for learning the language.  

In my ministry, it would be impossible if I didn't know Spanish.  This seems like an elementary concept, and I suppose it is rather basic, if you want to disciple people in another country, you should be able to speak their language, but I have seen that it is often easier said than done.   I don't mean to say that it is difficult to learn a language because it's physically difficult, even though it absolutely is.  To learn an entirely new vocabulary and verb structure, to refine your speech to the seemingly endless nuances of  Spanish, and to adapt formal, classroom Spanish to informal, street, natural sounding Spanish is all part of the frustrating road that eventually, after much headache and embarrassment, leads to fluency.  What I mean when I say that it is difficult to learn Spanish is that as new missionaries come to the field energized, eager, and motivated to begin reaching people for Christ, it is difficult to slow down for 6, 12, 24 months to learn a language.  It can seem like a necessary evil to get through before the real ministry can begin.  However, I'm convinced that taking time to learn a language and a culture are just as much part of ministry as sharing the gospel precisely because of the fact that the gospel can't be shared and discipleship can't happen until the language and culture are learned.  I have missionary friends who have been honest about their struggle with this period of waiting until the ministry they came to do can actually begin.  I have been impressed and encouraged, however, by their realization that they must concentrate on language and culture if they want to be effective reach people for the gospel.  That's not say that God can't use someone who doesn't know the language, God can do what he wants through whomever he wants, but on a practical level, there is no substitute to knowing the language well.  


There is no substitute for community.

If being part of a bible-believing community of friends that walk alongside you to for encouragement, correction, and discipleship is important in America where there exists all the comforts of home, then I'm convinced that it's importance is intensified on the mission field where there is uncertainty, insecurity, unfamiliarity.  After a month of being in Honduras, this need became glaring to me.  Fortunately, God blessed me with two other missionary families who too felt the void of community in their lives.  Since then we have met every week to share a meal (and always dessert), a time of worship through song, a time of bible study, and a time of extended, intentional prayer.  This group has been invaluable to me so far in Honduras, especially since I'm here alone.  I can't believe for a second that the Christian life was meant to be lived alone, but rather alongside other bible-believing, Christ-imitating, God-honoring Christians.  I believe that remains true, if not more so, for life of the mission field.  


There is no substitute for prayer.

I can't improve of the words of John Piper here.

"Life is war. That's not all it is.  But it is always that.  Our weakness in prayer is owing largely to our neglect of this truth.  Prayer is primarily a wartime walkie-talkie for the mission of the church as it advances against the power of darkness an unbelief.  It is not surprising that prayer malfunctions when we try to make it a domestic intercom to call upstairs for more comforts in the den.  God has given us prayer as a wartime walkie-talkie so that we can call headquarters for everything we need as the kingdom of Christ advances in the world.  Prayer gives us the significance of frontline forces and gives God the glory of a limitless Provider.  The one who gives the power gets the glory.  Thus, prayer safeguards the supremacy of God in missions while linking us with endless grace for every need." 

Life is war.  We must fight daily to pick up our cross because, some days, it's just so heavy.  We must fight daily to be lovers, not cynics, because I'm tired of you calling 'culture' what the bible calls 'sin.'  We must fight to trust that God is working in the heart of the person whose salvation we weep for.  I've found that these fights are best fought face down begging the limitless Provider for significant frontline forces to continue on.  


Satan really, really hates it.  

This is exactly why life is a war--because Satan wants nothing more than to distract us from pursuing God.  If he can't strip me of my salvation (and he can't) then he'll strip me of my will to tell others about it.  A week doesn't go by without me or someone I know experiencing events orchestrated by the devil himself for the sole purpose of discouraging us.  Marital issues, sick children, issues with immigration, attacks on ministry, theft, disruption of Christian unity, loneliness .  Satan is creative in his attacks, but our God is effective with his counter.  He is sufficient to provide care, healing, and protection  from the attacks of the enemy.  It can be exhausting having to constantly absorb the punches from the devil, but if he doesn't deem me worthy of punching, then I'm probably not much of a threat to begin with.  So punch away.  

I'm not meant to do this alone.  

I have so enjoyed my time in Honduras thus far and I look forward to the remaining seven months, but it has been made strikingly clear to me that I am not meant to do this missionary thing alone.  I am thankful for this time here alone, but there is still a sharp void in my life and ministry.  I anticipate, not so patiently at times, the day that I can serve alongside Laura, my fiancée.  If I ever needed more affirmation that she was the one I ought to spend my life with, these last five months have absolutely confirmed that.  



As I am nearing the half-way point of my time in Honduras, I want to thank those of you again that have partnered me financially and prayerfully.  I covet your support as I would not be here without it.  I feel blessed and privileged to be able to partner with people from all over the United States as we mutually work to carry out Christ's last words to us on earth:

"Por tanto, id, y haced discípulos a todas las naciones, bautizándolos en el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo; ensenándoles que guarden todas las coasas que os he mandado, y he aquí yo estoy con vosotros todos los días hasta el fin del mundo."
Mateo 28:19-20.