By God’s Design: Zebras in Honduras

Recently a very well-meaning person gave me their careful recommendation that we do some kind of preliminary scanning/interviewing/selection process before accepting any new children either into our home/family or into our school programs so as to hopefully eliminate those wily youth who just can’t seem to get their act together, those who are ‘too far gone,’ or those who demand so much extra help and attention due to special needs. Focus on those who can really succeed, those who really want to be ‘helped’, they told me.

To some extent and from a certain perspective, this thought can be rationalized and even embraced.

The problem, however, is that when you run a hospital for souls, everyone who comes through the front gate is sick. Some are close to death and need intensive, prolonged treatment just to enjoy some level of stability (and even so they may always require their oxygen tank or weekly dialysis treatments), whereas others may stroll in with nothing more than a flu-bug or strep throat, receiving a quick, effective treatment so as to recuperate their vibrant health. Others, chronic, degenerative illnesses. Others, mental health issues. Others, mere toothaches.

I cannot imagine a hospital where the doctors and nurses stand at the front door turning away the most grave of cases, receiving only those with ear infections, sprained ankles and skin rashes while refusing those with stomach cancer, blindness, and advanced diabetes.

This perspective is one that the Lord has been etching out in us during these last few months or perhaps years. I cannot tell you how many times we’ve wanted to pull our hair out and stomp around like madmen, absolutely bewildered and frustrated and exhausted to the bone with some of the cases our Father has brought through our front gate. This is beyond us! Who can stand this child? He lied again! When will she ever learn? Why can’t You just send us ‘normal’ children? I’ve had enough! Oh, how easy it would be to just turn them away and accept the cute ones, the obedient ones! Yes, as weak humans we prefer those who only need a slight nudge in the right direction, a few safe prayers, and a reasonable investment of time, energy and love in order to ‘recuperate’ and enjoy the full life available to them in Christ Jesus. Send us those, Father! The others are just too hard, require too much sacrifice.

Just last week Darwin and I attended an organized debate among our high school students. My jaw dropped when the teacher asked one of the students (a 14-year-old boy who has ‘lazy-fool-who-doesn’t-want-to-change-despite-our-best-efforts’ stamped across his forehead in big, bold letters) to name an animal species indigenous to Honduras. After having had over a week to research, rehearse and prepare the debate with several classmates on this specific topic, this young man looked bewildered by the question (Just say ‘toucan,’ for crying out loud!) and answered erroneously, “Uh…Zebras.”

The thought that screamed through my mind: “Get him outta here! Fool, fool, fool! No wonder he gets like 15% on all of his quizzes! How many times have we sat down to counsel and advise him, pray with him, and all to no avail? We’ve known this kid for over two years, and we’ve seen almost zero fruit from our efforts to invest in his life! I can’t stand students like this!”

And yet every time we get ready to scratch one of them off our list, expel them from school or promise up and down that so-and-so is beyond help and will die in their own foolishness, that quiet voice inside of us says, “Bring him back. Go to him, and bring back the straying sheep into the safety of My fold. Go.”

Oh, how short-sighted we are! We look at three or six months or a couple years of dogged effort (with what we perceive as zero results), wipe our hands clean, and smuggishly pronounce to the world, “Well, we tried. We’ll keep praying for so-and-so, but from a distance. Hopefully he’ll crash and burn elsewhere and then maybe – maybe – he’ll wake up from his stupor and see the light of all that we were trying to teach him. He’s in God’s hands now.”

But our Father says, “Go get him! Bring him back if he is willing; encourage him again. Reassure him of My love again. Speak the Truth to him again. Hug him again. This work is not accomplished according to your schedule! Time means nothing to me! Go!

And so we do. Just as Jesus’ words reverberated around the Garden of Gethsemane, so do they in the midst of our own conflicting thoughts: “Father, if it is possible, please take this cup of suffering from me. But may Your will be done, not mine.”

And so in the last several weeks we have gone out looking for lost sheep, and several have been found and brought back for God’s glory. Due to the general chaos and indiscipline that reign in our little rural neighborhood, a good handful of students both in our elementary and high school programs had become discouraged with our (very manageable) expectations of homework, discipline, work ethic, etc, and had simply stopped coming to classes or been expelled for extreme behavioral issues.

My thought: “Good riddens! They never wanted to be here anyway. Well, I sure hope they learned something during all those Bible studies they had been attending while they were in school with us, and I hope they were able to catch a glimpse of the person of Jesus Christ in and through us while they were here. Well, we certainly tried. We opened our home to them with all the love in the world (all my love in the world, which isn’t much) and they simply didn’t cherish the opportunity extended to them. Have a nice life, although it probably won’t end well for you!

And Jesus speaks to our heart, piercing through the rowdy noise of our souls with striking efficacy: “Go find him. My work isn’t over yet. I still have plans I want to accomplish through you in his life. Go.”

Me: “No! He’s – he’s lazy! Oh, and his behavior is atrocious! He doesn’t even want to learn. You know I can’t handle one more child – and much less, teenager – who’s just begging to be kicked out. Please, no. Maybe in a year or two they can come back if their attitude changes, but right now?”

And so we go. In the last several weeks I’ve gone out into our neighborhood up long dirt paths and back alleys in our truck, in mototaxis, and sometimes on foot in search of those our Father would have us bring back. My husband Darwin has made phone calls to families and reached out to boys who I had labeled ‘beyond help.’ I’ve waded through nearly waist-high weedy overgrowth down a long abandoned path, going door-to-door looking for the home of one of our high school students who dropped out; I’ve sat on couches to pray with discouraged moms and I’ve sat on moist planks of wood in our students’ front yards seeking reconciliation and the Father’s will. We’ve moved our ‘plans’ around so as to make these search-and-rescue efforts a priority, and in the process the Lord has begun re-shaping our heart to look more like His.

All the while, our ego – that huge, nasty beast that demands ‘easy’ and ‘comfortable’ and ‘me’ – is getting pounded into the ground one blow after another by the steady rhythms of God’s love as He leads us from death into life.

And so, many of the students that I secretly hoped would leave (those who are the most difficult, the most lazy) are still here. In these past few weeks, by God’s grace and wisdom, five of the seven lost sheep from our school programs have been brought back.

And so, we are still engaged in what can only be classified as full-on spiritual warfare as we battle daily against extreme laziness, lies, immaturity, and darkness in the young people from our rural neighborhood who spend the majority of their waking hours under our guidance (not to mention the 8 who live with us as sons and daughters).

Just yesterday evening as my husband Darwin and I were alone in the kitchen finishing dinner prep for our 8 live-ins, we found ourselves once again discussing quite animatedly the ups and downs of our day, much of which is centered around the triumphs and struggles of the youth our Father has brought to us. Serving up bowls of rice, beans and tortillas, soon enough we were lamenting over the behavioral issue of so-and-so that occurred that morning or the fact that he or she cannot seem to grasp the fact that they have to do their homework, cannot just play all day and waste their lives. Darwin suddenly laughed, seemingly having received some new perspective to relieve us of what can very quickly become a discouraging conversation of wars lost and souls astray. He shook his head and said lightheartedly: “If all these kids learn in their time with us is the transforming Truth of God’s love, it’s all worth it.”

So, as far as grades go, kids are flunking out of our school left and right. But we’re keeping them around anyway. Our teenagers in second and third grade refuse to learn how many days are in a month, but we cling to the hope that in our midst the Father’s will may be done both in their lives and ours. We want to gnash our teeth and scream at the fact that over half of our 7th-graders still don’t know the multiplication tables that they should have learned early on in elementary school, but we know the Lord has a plan for them that goes beyond anything academic. The temptation is very real to expel such-and-such 13-year-old boy again (alas, we already expelled him once, but the Father led us to bring him back!) who is flunking second grade and finds it fun to scream obscenities at his poor teacher every day, but we’re seeing glimpses of light and truth – oh, how tiny yet how real they are! – infiltrating his mind and spirit, and we know the labor with him will be arduous but with the great hope of eternal rewards.

Against all logic and strategic planning, we have 14-year-old Brayan back with us in fifth grade for the third time, and – despite his absolutely terrible academic performance to this day – he is speaking and acting with a newfound maturity and joy, absorbing in a very real way the spiritual Truth being presented to him in ways that transcend any basic literacy exam or math assignment. As of late, he’s been going so far as to actively pray that God would grant him wisdom. According to Darwin’s new perspective (which I believe is actually Christ’s perspective), Brayan can repeat fifth grade ten times if he needs to, if that means that God is transforming him in the process.

Amen! Glory to the God who doesn’t give up as easily as we do!

April 2016 Updates and Prayer Requests

Update on the Situation with Sandra’s Step-Dad

15-year-old Sandra, a student in our new discipleship-based high school program who moved in with us in February of this year due to an abusive situation with her step-dad, is doing incredibly well under our care.

Surprisingly, the police finally did show up at her mom and step-dad’s home, he went to court the next day, confessed to all that was being said of him, and then returned home with Sandra’s mom. The details are still somewhat gray to us, but I believe Sandra’s mom – a sincere Christian who is illiterate and has three other young children at home – decided not to send him to jail because she needs him to continue working so that she and the other three kids do not starve or find themselves on the streets (there is no government welfare program or widespread help for single moms/abused women in Honduras).

This is obviously shocking and frustrating and, as you can guess, has led to zero change in the step-father’s behavior. Sandra’s mom wants to leave him and rent a small one-room apartment for her and the kids, but she is having a very hard time finding something she can afford (even if the apartment doesn’t come with light and running water), and we feel that even if she did move to another house in our same neighborhood he would very easily find her, move in by force or threaten her, and continue onward in the abusive relationship without any real legal consequences.

We want to see Sandra reunited with her mom because they truly do have a healthy, loving relationship, but we sense that it may be quite some time before her mom is able to get away from the step-dad and secure a home that is far enough away from him that he can’t find her. Please continue to pray for Sandra’s mom’s protection during this time and that she and Sandra would not become discouraged in the face of what seem like insurmountable odds. Let us give thanks to the Good Father for Sandra’s current safety in our household and for the physical health she has been able to enjoy under our care (she came to us extremely underweight and with severe dental issues). She is blossoming in our high school program and is quickly becoming one of the best students. Darwin recently began teaching her violin, and she and our other older girls (15-year-old Dayana and 12-year-old Jackeline) enjoy a very positive relationship.

Parque Natural View El Pino
Sandra with our 8-year-old son Jason in the pool at a local park

Parque Natural View El Pino

 

Prayer for Struggling Students

In just two-and-a-half months of classes thus far this year, 6 students have dropped out of our primary school and 4 out of our secondary school. We are currently left with 9 students in primary and 13 in secondary.

There is such a strong cultural pull toward laziness and utter purposelessness in our rural neighborhood that many students literally give up and give in, preferring to wander the gravel roads aimlessly, spend their days goofing around at one of the many natural swimming holes, stealing from neighbors, participating in illicit sexual behavior, and watching an unreasonable amount of television, basically condemning themselves to a lifetime of ignorance and suffering.

This is not at all surprising to us due to the fact that we live here and daily experience the very, very low educational and behavioral expectations of many of our neighbors, but it is still extremely saddening and frustrating. We are blessed and encouraged with the students who have decided to stick it out and persevere a bit, although there are a few more who are currently in secondary who don’t show the least interest in learning and are on the verge of flunking themselves out due to having put forth zero effort thus far.

About half of our 7th-grade students don’t know the times tables and aren’t interested in learning them (something they should have learned early on in primary school), and many if not all come from the local public school system in which a student can miss up to 30 days of school or more and not do a single homework assignment and still pass their grade without having learned anything at all. For this reason and many more, much of the work we do with our students (who do not live with us but are in our home/mission five days a week for school and discipleship) is very similar to the intensive, individualized effort we invest in the lives of those who do live under our roof – praying with them and counseling them one-on-one, seeking to heal and transform that which is broken, being Christ’s living, breathing body to them, teaching them a Way that is completely different from that which they have known. Looked at under this lens, it might actually be a blessing to have fewer students, because that allows us more personalized time with each one.

Please pray with us for our students – both those who remain and those who have dropped out – that God may grant them an ounce if not a pound of perseverance and wisdom to continue onward in the good fight so that we may have the chance to mold them according to God’s perfect will. Please pray also for any potential candidates for the future, that the right students would be brought to us and that those who truly are not interested in being transformed would eliminate themselves before entering our discipleship program. May God’s will be done and His name be glorified whether we have 50 students or only 5! Amen!

Discipulado Cristiano Costa Norte
Miss Isis, our primary teacher, in a Bible study with her students after class

 

Escuela Primaria EDUCATODOS
Cristian, a hard-working 12-year-old student in third grade

 

Escuela Primaria Rancho Agua Viva
Miss Martha in a reading class with our older boys in primary. Congrats to Brayan and Cristian,the only two boys in this photo who have persevered!

 

Colegio Rancho Agua Viva
Darwin, Miss Ligia and I with our secondary students after performing a small-scale school play. Darwin and I participated!

 

Clases de piano Darwin Canales
13-year-old Elalf, one of Darwin’s new piano students who is also enrolled in our discipleship-based secondary program

 

Educacion fisica
P.E. class on the day this photo was taken was a bit rougher than they were expecting! I think their moms must have had a heart attack upon seeing how dirty their kids were when they got home!

 

Colegio Rancho Agua Viva

 

New Saturday Routine: the Dentist

During the past few months, we have developed a new routine nearly every Saturday morning with our 8 kids: going to the dentist. Our kids are in such drastic need of dental services that we have literally spent 3-4 hours at the dentist at least 6 or 7 Saturdays thus far, and we still need to complete 2 or 3 more visits to get all the work done. We’ve done root canals, molar extractions, general cleanings, and more cavity drillings and fillings that can be kept track of. The dentist, a local woman who is a wonderful Catholic believer, has been such a blessing to us, and she and I have grown to develop a very sincere friendship (I’ve sat right next to her dental chair as we’ve shared stories and gotten to know one another during the 20+ hours she’s been working on our kids’ teeth!). Let us give thanks to God for our dentist’s life and for the generosity and love she has shown our kids.

Ejercicio fisico para nino discapacitado
7-year-old Josue having fun with the weight set Darwin made out of concrete-filled recycled paint cans.

 

Ejercicio fisico para nino discapacitado

 

Prayer for Ongoing Insomnia

Please join me in prayer for my ongoing battle with insomnia. I felt like my sleep issues improved somewhat for a week or two in March, but in these past 3-4 weeks I have been sleeping 1-3 hours per night, and I’m on the brink of total exhaustion (as I have been for several years). I still do not know the root to this issue, and I’m currently on several natural supplements, relaxing herbal teas, etc, to help with the problem, but they have not produced any results whatsoever.

Hula Hoop
7-year-old Gaby playing with a Hula Hoop

 

Grocery Bills Extremely High

Now that we have 8 kids/teens under our full-time care along with providing twice-weekly community lunches for about 45 people and providing breakfast and lunch 5 days a week to our laborers (teachers, nurse/cook, cleaning ladies, etc), our grocery bills have been through the roof these last few months. We’ve taken measures to cut back on our food spending, so we are currently on a strict rice-and-beans diet 3 times a day, whereas before we also spent money on milk products (our cows are not currently producing milk because their calves are already sufficiently grown up), cereals, fruits and vegetables, chicken or beef one day per week, and snacks for our kids to take to school. We’re considering continuing this diet for the rest of April and possibly May in order to get a handle on the grocery bills, but long-term we are still trying to figure out how to most wisely steward the resources the Lord has entrusted to us while also providing for the legitimate needs of those under our care. Please pray with and for us about this, and may we continue trusting the Lord for His provision for all of our needs.

Natural View Park El Pino
Playing in the pool at a local park with our kiddos after a long day of work and school.

 

Official Adoption Process Begun with Dayana (15), Gleny (11) and Jason (8)

We’ve begun the official adoption process with the sibling group of three that has been with us two-and-half years and were the first of the now-8 kids to move into our household. Two of the lawyers involved in this process with us have been doing a phenomenal job, moving and shaking more in a few weeks’ time than other lawyers would in a full year, and it is literally shocking the advances we’ve experienced just this past week in the potentially intimidating legal process of adoption. We continue onward with great hope that we may become family to these three for the rest of their lives, and another blessing in the midst of all of this is that the adoption itself is free (the only cost is what our privately contracted lawyer charges). Please join us in giving thanks to God for the lives and effort of the lawyers, judges, secretaries, etc, that have been involved thus far both in the nearby city of La Ceiba and in the capital, and let us pray that the process may continue onward in efficiency and transparency for God’s glory. Amen!

Coro Rancho Hogar Agua Viva
15-year-old Dayana teaching the sopranos during choir practice. She’s a pretty tough teacher!

 

Coro Rancho Hogar Agua Viva

Coro Rancho Hogar Agua Viva
Darwin teaching the altos and tenors

 

Musica5 Musica4

What Michael Jackson, Mother Teresa and Francisco Morazan Can Teach Us About Our Knowledge of God

A few weeks ago we began our twice-weekly Bible study in a rather unusual way. Glancing at the dozen or so words wildly scribbled on the index card in my lap to guide us, I began throwing out the names of well-known international and local celebrities or heroes one by one to see how much we truly knew about each person.

There we sat next to and across from one another on an assortment of wooden benches in our dining room that is quickly becoming too small. Sitting around the rectangular-shaped bench-formation were our high school and elementary students, teachers, our own 8 kids, Darwin and I with a couple other laborers (Miss Martha and Alma, a local woman who helps clean a couple days a week) and a neighbor or two. There were about 40 or so people present.

I started off with the most famous man in all of Honduran history. There are schools, companies, streets, and even one of the 18 Honduran departments (the equivalent of a state or geographical region) named after this man, and — without fail — every September during the patriotic celebrations there are students all over the country participating in very important parades with banners and musical bands to honor this man and what he did for Honduras.

“Francisco Morazan.”

Anyone and everyone who was at least 8 years old displayed some kind of really strong reaction upon hearing such a familiar name. Some, sighs with a big smile. Others a loud, “Hey!” Still others nodding their heads up and down enthusiastically, like Yeah, I know all about him. It’s Francisco Morazan, for goodness’ sake! I graduated from Francisco Morazan elementary school last year, and I’ve been attending parades in his honor from the time I was in my mother’s womb. Please!

I let the reactions die down and asked the group, “Who is he?”

As if they had known ahead of time what I would ask and had rehearsed their answer, nearly everyone shouted out with utter confidence in their supreme patriotic knowledge (while simultaneously passing judgment on me for presumably not knowing): “He’s a national hero!

My response: “Yes…But, I mean, who is he? Why was he a national hero?”

For a moment or two I had them all, as the majority looked like I had just knocked the wind out of them. ‘National hero’ didn’t say it all?

Then my husband and Derbin, a neighbor of ours who is a 9th grade student at the local public high school, began spouting off quite a few textbook-style details about Francisco Morazan, much to everyone else’s amazement.

I pressed deeper: “Do we know how many kids he had? Was he faithful to his wife? What did he like to do in his free time? Did he lose his patience easily?”

To those questions no one had answers. The point had been made.

I perked up in the now-very-sullen emotional atmosphere, gave a friendly slap on the back to whoever was sitting next to me, and said convincingly to the group, “Gosh, we sure do know a whole lot about him! We know Francisco Morazan just like he were our own brother, right?”

Everyone’s eyes began to light up in agreement with my statement due to my positive tone of voice, but then several students registered the absurdity of what I was saying. Their response: “Uh, no, we don’t know him as if he were our own brother.” Staring at the floor, probably disappointed in themselves for not having absorbed the least bit of information about their favorite national hero after having studied him in school year after year, several students added,  “We hardly know anything about him at all.”

Me, sympathetically, “Ohh, darn. I guess we don’t know much about him at all. Well, why not? How could we actually find out if he lived with true joy, if he genuinely wanted to serve his country or only his self-interest, what his weaknesses were?”

After a bit more probing and explaining, the group arrived at the conclusion that we would have had to intentionally study in-depth about this man from reliable resources to be able to answer the real question of who this man was (and not just his basic, ‘national hero’ profile of wars won and laws passed) or, better yet, as someone from across our rectangle wisely said, “We’d have to have known him. Personally.”

“That’s right. But we haven’t done all the investigations, and we definitely don’t know him personally. So we should just go ahead and jump to conclusions, assuming we know all about him, judging on the incredibly small amount of information we have available to us, right?”

They all got it: “No,” they answered in almost a whisper.

“Well, what if we hit the books, go do in-depth research on his life, habits, read his old diary entries, etc — what if we really do our best to figure out what kind of man Francisco Morazan was beyond his impressive public profile? How much would this information really be able to impact our daily lives, decisions and future?”

Some looked uneasy but gave their answer: “Uh, not much at all. He’s dead.”

“Yeah, right? Okay, well let’s give it a go with some more names.”

I was shocked that the names ‘Nelson Mandela’ and ‘Mother Teresa’ earned only blank stares from the youth sitting around me on all sides. My thought: We’ve got a lot to teach these kids!

We named Barak Obama, the current Honduran president (Juan Orlando Hernandez), several other national heroes from Honduran history (with results strikingly similar to those of Francisco Morazan), certain famous actors, well-known Biblical characters (John the Baptist, Adam from the Garden of Eden), etc. Each time, without fail, the group thought they knew the person very well (as in, had heard their name before and had at least a vague idea of their profession), but, in the end, knew almost nothing at all, at least not the most important details of their character, convictions and deepest motivations. And I, without fail, would conclude each round with, “Hey! Isn’t that great? We know so-and-so so well that it almost seems like they’re our blood relative, right?” By now they had caught on and realized that, no, we didn’t know any of these people even a little bit because we haven’t studied their lives in-depth or known them personally. We just hear a name and jump to a conclusion, assuming we already know everything when, in fact, we know nothing. And, each time I posed the question about how much it would truly affect our life trajectory, our decisions and future if we were to do that in-depth search on such-and-such person to find out who they really were, the year they got married, what their vices and personal victories were, each time the answer came back: “Not much at all.”

Then, a new name: “Michael Jackson.”

Upon hearing his name, a loud roar went up among the students, threatening to blow the tin roof right off our dining room. Brayan, the young man who used to live with us who is now back in the picture as our 5th-grade student, had the strongest reaction of all. Sitting a couple yards to my left, his eyes grew abnormally large, he pointed an extended finger to me as if I had just told a hilarious joke, and echoed, “Michael Jackson!”

Once the hoots and hollers died down, I singled him out: “Brayan, you had a pretty strong reaction. What do you know about Michael Jackson?

Brayan, suddenly nervous for being put under the spotlight: “Uh…he’s a singer.”

Me: “…And? What else?”

That was it. He knew nothing else.

Certain other students knew a few hearsay details about Michael Jackson, but even their knowledge was incredibly limited and based on gossip and/or what they’d heard or seen on television. I asked: “Do we know where he was born? If he professed some kind of belief in God? If he really did abuse children as some have said of him? How did he treat the people closest to him?”

Many, by now accustomed to the knowledge that they knew almost nothing at all about all the people they thought they ‘knew,’ just looked at me with blank stares, admitting defeat. Others, those with a bit more confidence and information, began: “Well, I saw in the newspaper or read online…”

After a couple minutes of discussion, I reminded everyone that even what we read in the media can be biased, written to cover so-and-so’s backside or to accuse unjustly, invented, or well-meaning but based on misinformation. Imperfect, sin-stained humans — all stained by a terrible egotism, fueled by the desire to be our own gods, to command our destiny — oftentimes without firsthand information writing about others from their same fallen species  and many of which do so against strict deadlines and with certain reader expectations. Oftentimes the naked truth simply doesn’t come out in the media, however much we’d like to think that it does.

By now, we were all admitting that we know almost nothing about anybody — whether that be because we haven’t really studied the person’s life or the source of information (internet, newspaper, hearsay, etc) isn’t completely reliable. One of the teenagers in our rectangular-shaped think-tank laughed and said for me, “We know Michael Jackson as if he were our own brother, right?”

At that, we all laughed.

After continuing on with a few more names, we finally arrived at the last name scribbled on the index card in my lap. I think by now many of the youth had forgotten we were in Bible study because we had spent the good part of an hour playing our not-too-impressive trivia game. We had all laughed quite a bit — mostly at our own ignorance — and, hopefully, the message had been clearly given that we shouldn’t jump to such quick conclusions about others because, really, we know very little (if nothing at all) and most likely will continue knowing very little because it is extremely difficult if not impossible to jump into the inner circle, the thought world — beyond what the media does or doesn’t tell us, beyond what their polished biographies proclaim —  of Barak Obama or such-and-such Famous Person to truly search out their intentions, private goals and raw character to know who they truly are, where they stand. And even if we did somehow attain such intimate knowledge, how much would it even affect us?

The last name: “Jesus Christ.”

Upon hearing His name, almost everyone in the circle let out a long sigh of understanding or expectation, the emotional environment now appropriately heavy as the youth then saw where we were going with all this trivia nonsense. No one was quick to say anything.

A good portion of our students are skeptics while a handful have come to place their faith in Christ in recent weeks and months under our guidance. Very few have any solid foundation of faith established beyond these Bible studies and prayer groups that we have only just recently begun.

Dayana, our eldest and in whom we — along with many others — have invested more time, one-on-one Biblical study, teaching, prayer, counsel and fasting than in any other child of ours, began saying what many others could not. I had to stop her, because I know that she knows Jesus, but our goal was to reach the group at-large.

I asked the group: “Who is He?”

One 11-year-old boy in second grade who is tremendously shy, has had rather extreme behavioral struggles and who just weeks ago became a Christian (the first to do so in his family), said barely above a whisper, “Powerful.”

Another from across the room: “Savior.”

Derbin, our teenage neighbor who has grown up in a loving, Christian family and who has dedicated much effort to his walk with Christ now in his adolescence, began picking up where Dayana had left off, explaining with authority Jesus’ miracles, some of His teachings, the way He treated the poor, etc, while the rest of the group stayed quiet. I imagined — or at least hoped — they were asking themselves what they really knew about Jesus, if they really knew Him at all or had just heard His name tossed about and proclaimed here and there, written on church signs and bumper stickers. Francisco Morazan, Michael Jackson, and Jesus Christ — we know them all as if they were our blood brothers, right?

I explained what I think they were already catching onto: “Many, many, many people here — and probably all around the world — say they know Jesus. They’ve heard that He’s the ‘Son of God’ or that He lived and died thousands of years ago, and they think that is enough to make a snap judgement about Him and consider that they have Him figured out. Just in the same way that we fool ourselves into believing we know all about Francisco Morazan because we know he’s a ‘national hero,’ we think we’ve got Jesus figured out because we attended church a few times way back when or have seen the outside cover of a Bible once or twice in our life, have heard rumors that He rose from the dead or was born to a virgin. But do we know how He treated women, prostitutes even? Why was He killed, and by whom exactly? What did He teach about money? What does He do even now in today’s world, and what on earth does it mean to be His follower?

Many people around the circle began to nod and chuckle appropriately, because the connection was being made.

“If Jesus really is the savior of all mankind, really did walk on water, really does love us and died to grant us peace with God — or, on the contrary, if everything about Him is just a big lie, if He’s just some Santa Clause figure up in the sky to make us feel better about ourselves — how much does this affect us?”

Several people from across the circle, some new understanding dawning behind their eyes: “Infinitely so.”

Me: “Yeah, right? If He is God or isn’t God — that knowledge has the capacity to change the trajectory of our entire lives! If He is a humble servant or rather some celestial tyrant, God-Made-Man or just some ancient myth, these are things worth knowing, knowledge that can actually change how we live and die! So is it worth investigating, putting in the time and effort to know Him?”

People around the circle began nodding and affirming verbally that, yes, this search actually is worth it.

“Literally, several times per month, people here ask me who I am and what I do. When I mention the Lord’s work that I’m involved in, without fail, every person whom I talk to immediately says something along the lines of, ‘Oh, yup. The things of God are the best. That’s the most important thing.’ Whether it’s a taxi driver, someone I meet in a store, or whoever, no one has ever looked at me like I’m crazy or asked, ‘Well, now, what are you talking about? I don’t know this God you refer to.’ Everyone, everyone, acts as if we’re all on the same page, we all know Jesus well and understand that He’s ‘the most important thing’. But the question I’m gonna start asking these same people is, ‘What are the things of God? Who is God?‘ because, really, I think a lot of people don’t have the slightest clue — they know Him no better than they do Francisco Morazan or Michael Jackson, are satisfied with knowing woefully little — if nothing at all — and for that reason they do not seek Him. They have fooled themselves into believing they already know Him.

“So here, in this little dining room out in the countryside in the middle of nowhere, we are commencing a search, a quest, admitting that many of us actually do not know Jesus beyond the one- or two-word titles assigned to Him. Savior, Prince of Peace, Son of God — yes. But there is so much more! We will never begin to seek Him fervently if we’re fooled into thinking we already know all there is to know about Him. Case closed, quick judgment made, and we carry on with our lives. No! Today let’s admit that many know Him no more than we know Mother Teresa or President Juan Orlando Hernandez, but we can, in fact, know Him — both through God’s Word (which is not written as newspapers and magazine articles are, based on human opinions and folly!) and through His Spirit. And this search is actually worth it and has the capacity to change everything.

So please pray with and for us during this time of fervent searching, of teaching what many believe they already know, of receiving new revelations from God and asking that He may touch all of our lives in ways that go beyond knowledge and into experience. Amen!

In a Land Replete with Water Damage, a Refuge from the Rain

A few nights ago I lay awake amidst dull, humid air as my husband’s steady snore quietly hummed around our little bedroom, bouncing softly off the walls to accompany what was otherwise a perfectly silent night.

It was probably an hour or two after midnight, and I had yet to fall asleep. I stared at my husband, not three inches from me, as a too-familiar jealously overtook my weary body as my thoughts jumped to accuse the unfairness of the situation. The alarm on my cellphone would sound at 5:00am to get us both up for a new day, regardless of how much or how little each had slept.

My foggy thoughts then began marching off in one direction and then the next as I frantically tried to reel them in, unsuccessfully trying to trap and tame them under a desperate prayer for peace, for sleep. How many nights over these past few years had I spent with eyes clamped shut but with my mind spinning onward, struggling against my own utter exhaustion to plead with God that He may grant me sleep?

And then, suddenly — in the midst of flip-flopping from one side to the other, positioning and re-positioning a pillow between my knees or held close to my chest, heart racing and anger rising for another night spent without any semblance or rest — it began to rain. And I mean, really rain.

I could no longer hear Darwin’s maddening snore — before I could even think to remember if we had clothes out on the line, our tin roof had become a chaotic drum set, playing a rather majestic yet frightful series of sounds as so much water hammered down over our little home in the foothills of the mountains.

It rains quite frequently in our part of Honduras, but, even so, whenever a rain of such caliber comes down, you can’t help but shiver with fearful awe at such power.

And then, as strong winds came to accompany the rain in its madness overhead, the thought entered my mind and, with it, a very real sense of worry: What if our roof blows off?

Now, this had never happened to us before, but due to the construction of our home, it would not be a far-off possibility in the face of such a strong storm. In many other occasions — and this one included — the wind had come up under the tin roof with such force that the roof actually does warp and flap, creating an impressive metal-on-metal noise to accompany all the slapping of water on metal.

The thought that immediately followed the first was: That would be absolutely terrible. I mean, everything would get really, really wet. 

Sometimes such simple, obvious thoughts are made somehow more special or enlightening when one is so sleep-deprived. I looked, mind drained of energy, over at Darwin, who continued to sleep as if he was completely unaware of any pending danger of losing our roof.

I lay on my back, looking up at our roof but at the same time convinced that at any moment I would be under the direct rain if and when the storm decided to take our roof away. In a daze, as if using a flashlight to light a small path through my mind, I began considering the absolute usefulness of a roof, hoping against hope that we might be able to continue enjoying the benefits of our own.

In rain, to keep dry. And not just people, but objects. Without the roof, the computer gets wet and ruined, all paperwork, other electronics, books, wood furniture over time if it gets enough exposure. Clothes mold. Bed becomes soggy and unusable.

In sun, to keep protected. Otherwise, the direct rays would be almost unbearable.

In snow, the roof provides obvious protection from such cold elements. Who could sleep in their bed under a heavy snowfall if they didn’t have a roof?

Oh, a roof is such a wonderful thing, and I had never truly considered it before now in the face of possibly losing it!

Not only provides protection from the elements but also against bugs and other animals, together with the support of the walls. And, heaven knows, in our home we would be living wild if it weren’t for our little tin roof and cinderblock walls! How many of the bats that we hear and see daily, rats, mosquitos, and other large scurrying animals would be our housemates if it weren’t for our blessed roof!

So, as the wind and the rain howled onward, growing in their anger —I could hardly hear myself think in the midst of such din! — I continued to light up small, forgotten corners of my mind as I remembered all the ways in which a roof is so utterly valuable.

I was then unexpectedly swept up into a sense of newfound awe at just how utterly amazing a roof really is.  I mean, we’re facing pounding rain and really strong winds — and I’m not wet! Not even a little bit! It’s as if I’m in another world, apart from the aggressive elements, but, really, this is all thanks to the roof, nothing more. I should be soaking wet — everything outside is! But I’m not. It’s as if I’m not even in close proximity to the storm, because the roof is protecting me.

Then, completely out of nowhere, as if that itty-bitty flashlight that was oh-so-slowly searching the deepest recesses of my mind was suddenly exchanged for a giant light-switch that illuminated everything at once:

“I AM your roof.”

 

He is my roof. With that, I felt like a thousand new revelations came upon my mind like rain: He is our refuge, our shelter. Literally. In the storms of this life — the chaos, the injustice, the suffering, the stress, the loss — we can hide under Him and remain untouched. There is no longer any rationalizing of this nonsense about falling prey to worry, control, outrage, and fear. The storms of this life that come beating down upon us, howling and threatening to consume us, can actually not even touch us if we remain under the One Roof who cannot be stripped and blown away. The Lord is my refuge; now I understand what that means. To get swept up in the storms of this life, soaking wet with the chaos of this world, is proof that one does not understand this. I have not understood this.

And so I continued to lay there as the storm raged on, but now with my thoughts swept up in awe at the God of Refuge, who — if we dare to trust Him — takes the hit of the rain and the wind so that we may hide beneath Him, untouched in the midst of a land replete with water damage. May He give us the eyes to see this and the faith to live accordingly! Amen.

 

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”   Psalm 91:1-2

I would hurry to find a shelter from the raging wind and tempest.   Psalm 55:8

You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance.    Psalm 32:7