Jr.

I'm watching words appear on my computer screen one letter at a time right now, but I'm disappointed with their ability to communicate.  My vice is that letters and commas and diphthongs and contractions and dependent clauses and  paragraphs don't afford you the ability to see, smell, touch, or taste.  Fortunately, we, as humans, were cleverly designed with a little thing called imagination.  If you haven't used yours in a while, take it off the shelf, dust off the cobwebs, and fire it up.  If you happen to be one of those people, perhaps the graphic design or artist or daydreamer type, that oft takes advantage of the creative little idea generator we call imagination, then consider yourself ready for our little exercise.  Here's how it will work:  I will use the aforementioned forms of written communication and you must promise to use that ole' imagination to see, smell, touch, and taste what I'm talking about.  

¿Cheque?

Bueno.

I'd like to introduce you to someone.  We'll call him Jr.  Jr. is a mason.   He, like many others in Honduras, have a 6th grade education.  There's not much motivation to study past 6th grade to educate yourself to get a good job when there are no jobs.  Unemployment is crippling Honduras.  He began working with his father upon graduation, and has since become a very capable mason.  Jr. is 17 years old; he lives with his 7 month old little girl and his mujer (Not his wife, just his 'woman.'  Cultural translation: baby momma).  Being in construction myself, I found myself often crossing paths with Jr.  When he was hired as the mason for a housing project on campus where I live about two months ago, I had a feeling that it wasn't by chance.   I felt confident that God had placed him in my life, literally two doors down, to disciple.  The only problem was that I happened to be trapped--trapped by my own comfort zone.  God, however, was not surprised by this; so, as I sat in my house eating a nice turkey sandwich and bell pepper for lunch one day, God sent Jr. to me.  If I was going to be trapped by my own comfort zone, God was going to send the very thing that kept me in my comfort zone to yank me out of it.  Funny how that works.  That day, and every day for the next week or so, Jr. knocked on my door just before lunch time and invited me to eat with him and his helper.  

Who's discipling whom, again?

God has since made sure that I don't even remember where I put my comfort zone.  That's probably because when Jr. shattered it into a million pieces, there was no hope of putting it back together.  However, every time I start to lay bricks again around myself, trying to re-construct my cozy comfort zone, my mason friend who "I'm discipling" walks up and destroys them with a quick invitation to lunch.  (I very carefully chose the wording for that sentence.  Please feel free to praise God for the irony).  

In all seriousness, however, Jr. and I have had wonderful conversations over pollo and Coke at lunch (Not really pollo [chicken], just a sweet bread.  But calling it  pollo, I suppose, makes them feel better, so I follow along).  We've talked about Christ's sacrifice on the cross.  We've talked about the radical love that God has shown us.  We've discussed the Lord's Supper, baptism, the end times, the great flood, and other religions.  He's much more curious about the things of God and Christ and the Bible than I would have imagined.   I guess that along with destroying my comfort zone, Jr. has taught me a lesson in not judging a book by its cover.  Again, who's discipling whom here?  

Jr. has a working knowledge of God and Christ and the Bible, but his past experiences with religion and "Christians" seem to be hindering him from moving forward.  The conservative evangelical church here sometimes seems to have a hint of legalism thrown in (Christians can't drink, smoke, dance(?), listen to non-Christian music, or else….) that he has bought into, and because of this, I fear that he doesn't completely understand the concept of the grace of God.  Of course, I don't want him to think that the grace of God is a license to drink or smoke or dance(?) or listen to non-Christian music, I just want him to understand that abstinence won't save him--only the grace of God will.  On the flip side of that argument, abstinence is by no means a bad thing, but when it becomes a qualifier to being a Christian, it's just plain blasphemous.    My prayer is that God would finally and noticeably grip his heart with the Gospel of which he is already aware.  I long to see him embrace the grace of God, fall in love with the Word of God, and intentionally engage people for God.  Would you join me in praying that for Jr.?

I am thankful for God giving me a gentle kick in the pants to engage in this relationship (Really, it was more like a not-so-gentle push off a cliff without me initially knowing that he had already fitted me with a parachute [i.e. the Holy Spirit], but since you're already using your imagination, you get the point).  I know this post was a tad tongue-and-cheek, but please believe me that my passion really is to engage people in Honduras for the gospel of Christ, even if my flesh want's something different.  This story is only more proof of Satan's disgust of my being here and his (feeble) attempt to minimize the impact of the gospel that I carry.  Would you join me in praying that he continues to grow disgusted of me?  

I had planned on updating you on a few different things that have happened over the past six weeks, but for the sake of your imagination, I believe I'll break it up into segments.  Be on the lookout for more to come!