2000 Years of Salvation and Tilapia

As a preamble I must state that we are safe and have not been under any threat or in danger.  The Biblical Institute where we are staying, while authentically indigenous, is also a refuge and sanctuary within a hostile land. Our cots and hammocks are set up under a bamboo and thatch roof, with wood plank walls, with each board separated by about and inch of open space. The door is missing the bottom portion and could potentially invite stray dogs, toads, lizards, snakes, and the local Howler Monkeys that serenade us to sleep with a sound described by the local missionary as “If Chewbacca were little.” It is surprisingly accurate. Lucas filmed a scene from Star Wars here, I am convinced that he was inspired by the monkey sounds when he created Chewbacca.

Our team is familiar now with a surprisingly large spider that co-exists peacefully in the beams above our heads. While it looks sinister with three-inch legs and large fangs, it seems content to catch the slow flying giant beetles and the ever-present mosquitos. The Black Puma is native to this area, but we are assured that it does not like to wander into human territories. 

The women and men are separated into separate huts, but the women have access to modern plumbing, while the men are living a bit more rough. Our shower is a PVC pipe that comes from the ground. The valve below releases a stream of cold water that bursts out in a solid, dime-sized torrent. Garbage bags nailed to a thin, wooden frame provide near privacy while a small asphalt square lends just enough room to keep wet feet out of the mud. Our sink is a Guatemalan Pila, holding water in a central open basin, with a left shallow compartment for face washing or teeth brushing, and the left side is textured for clothes washing. Each day I hand wash my underclothes, socks, and shirt. They line dry between tropical downpours.

Meals are prepared as part of a rotating schedule between the three families who live on the grounds. They are part of a three year pastor training program and will plant churches in the surrounding communities. The Institute is a working farm that includes, thatch, limes, black pepper, all-spice, pineapple, chickens, rabbits, pigs, and goats. The proceeds of the sale of these goods funds the entire operation. The goal is for the institute to train up the pastors to spread the good news of Jesus to local communities that have no exposure to Jesus Christ. Local religion is dominated by indigenous Mayan Pagan beliefs that worship the ancestors who provide power, accompanied with intricate ritual, sacrifice, and custom.

Witch Doctors keep the communities in theses customs that date back to the ancient days of Tikal, believed to be capable of: drawing power from the dead and nature, influencing the success of crops, and empowered to cast curses on those who refuse to submit to their beliefs, as well as impose physical penalties on those who break custom or agreed upon local laws. For example, recently a young man was caught stealing, and the local penalty was for him to kneel on dried corn kernels and broken glass with a 108 lb bag of grain on his back for the duration of an entire day, sunrise to sunset. The penalty for murder is for the village to gather as spectators while the convicted is bound, covered in an accelerant, and burned alive. We are told that this custom is still practiced within the surrounding jungle villages. 
The local Witch Doctor has 15 subordinate witches that serve underneath him [a brief pause in my writing here, Adam just walked by with a dying snake. It’s been machete sliced, we’re assured it is harmless, but at about 4’ in length, no-one is taking a chance] who daily curse the Institute and all those who work as pastors, staff, or missionaries. We work here knowing that they watch our movements, and with full confidence that their false religion has no power here. 

The pastors here tell of one of the witches who stood at the road and screamed curses at the hens. They say that the hens suddenly stopped laying eggs, producing nothing for nearly a week until the pastors gathered, laid hands on the hens, and prayed that God would again bless their production. Eggs began appearing in the pen that very same day.

Our project for the week is to turn the top six inches of soil in three recently dug ponds. The local soil will not hold water, but a formula was discovered that combines the local soil with salt. The salt is mixed at a ratio of five pounds per four-foot square (2’ x 2’ x 6”). Each pond is roughly the size of two tennis courts and we are turning the soil using shoves, pick-axes, a tamping iron, and a hoe. Today’s temperature was 105˚F. While the conditions are extreme, our team is being careful with frequent breaks, gallons of drinkable water, sunscreen, bug-spray, and gloves. We’re quite the subject of entertainment for the men here who work beside us… they use none of this protective equipment.

In our devotion last night, we discussed the significance of this project. The Mayan people here are completely removed from the world. Their language is unique to them and is nothing like Spanish. It sounds like a guttural language from an Indiana Jones movie (ironically, one of the missionaries here is named, “Paul Jones.” I’ve encouraged him to have a son and PLEASE name him Indiana).

In the Gospels that record the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ, we find Him feeding the multitudes (great crowds) of people with the miracle of multiplication, satisfying the hunger of thousands with only a few loaves of break and a couple of fish. It can be learned from the historical record that the fish that inhabited that region was Tilapia. Even today in the seafood industry, Tilapia is commonly referred to as the “Jesus Fish.”

The fish that will be placed in these ponds are Tilapia. 

2000 years ago, Jesus reached people who had never heard the message of salvation using Tilapia. This project that we are completing, will allow each Emmaus team member to do exactly that same thing, meet the hunger needs of a people who have never before heard the message of Jesus Christ. 

Indeed Emmaus, you are encountering Jesus along the road.

Finally, our team by the generous donation of Catalyst Resources International will leave behind $250.00 that will go towards a runway that is being constructed behind the Institute. This runway will provide transportation for missionaries to travel remotely, as well as offer emergency medical evacuation for villagers that live deep in the jungles of Peten, providing life-saving procedures from hospitals in the capital city that have never before been made available. 

And so Emmaus, I’m reflective of the words of Peter after he and John were released from the Jewish council and commanded not to speak about Jesus under threat of punishment. 

“And now LORD, look upon their threats, and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with great boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed in the name of your holy servant Jesus.”

“And when they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness.” –Acts 4:29-31

That’s what this is all about Emmaus Crew. We’re here to be bold. We’re here to be obedient to God. We’re here to serve His creation. God’s got the rest.

We rest our heads tonight in confidence and peace.

Use the Wits that You Have

“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began."

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Case de Shepherd (the Shepherd house) is far from quiet and tidy this evening. I feel like Bilbo Baggins when he was startled from his tea on a brisk autumn night with a steady stream of dwarves that began to fill his home, eat his food, and fill the air with music. 

The timbre of emotion here is a unique blend of boredom and expectation. Today is a needed day of rest for paths that intersect briefly before dispersion. Emmaus is taking a needed rest before an eleven day excursion up north to Flores & Tikal, then stints in Belize and Honduras. 

My uncle Stephen and his family are graciously staying with us and providing that unique and wholesome feeling of goodness that only family can supply. Soon they'll be departing with Caleb in tow, hitching a ride to the US, spending his first ever summer apart from our family. 

As our family examines the days ahead, and tries to conceptualize our upcoming first furlough, we realize that our emotions have not yet had a chance to overtake our footsteps. We look forward to the coming time of rest. In this clouded view of introspection, I often question my abilities and wonder at my accomplishments. Surely no-one is as surprised as me as the hobbit-hole door of my life is repeatedly blown open with the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Yesterday our team of 50 departed to the US after building six houses and dedicating them to the LORD, spending powerful times of prayer with the families that are now challenged to make a house a home.

The day was a mad blend of all that is swirling in our midst. I loaded up Emmaus, we delivered 150 pounds of baby wipes to House of Hope Orphanage, and then headed to Villa Nueva for the house dedications. The trip ended with a faulty turn down a small inner city alley that ended in a flight of stairs climbing the mountainside. It was like a scene from a nightmare, the road ending in impassable and seemingly impossible architecture. 

The team cheered after I successfully and nearly miraculously navigated the inches to spare passages in reverse, while we nervously watched a group of young men who approached with questionable intentions (and unpleasant words). 

Finally, Kellie was contacted by our attorney who informed us that I needed an additional document to pair with my passport in order to exit the country in the coming days. The good news was that our permanent residency status was granted... the bad news, we do not have time to process our new Guatemalan identification cards (DPI). 

And so... we were off to a late evening scavenger hunt as we raced the hands of the clock to five. We met from opposite ends of the city into Zona Uno, went into the government agency known as RENAP. We bounced from counter to counter like a delusional pingpong ball as we collected documents, copies, and sticky stamps for authentication. 

Our brief celebration of completing our mad dash packet was squashed as the official then sent us a block and a half down the road to make our first official tax payment. We stood in line, sweating nervously at Banrural as the large black hand of time edged ever closer to five.

While we were there, Kellie's phone rang and the orthodontist informed that Caleb was ready for pick-up. His time of suffering was over, his braces had been removed. So, in a moment of divide and conquer, I headed to Taco Bell to freak out the staff and procure sixty tacos (since it was now too late to cook for our house of travelers and adventurers), and Kellie shot across town to retrieve Caleb.

By 7:30 PM, we were all safely reassembled at our compound. The van unscathed, our residency approved, braces removed, and stomachs happy... we all retreated to our various corners of the house in pursuit of this thing called rest. 

I've always wanted a lifestyle of adventure since first encountering Bilbo as a twelve year old discovering his story for the first time. In all the movements of this mechanism we call "missions," we are somehow living this tale, and embracing the exhaustions with the beauty. 

Tonight in a twist of irony, the group chose to watch The Lord of the Rings while Antony and I put the final touches on our adventure that approaches. As the sun falls down on today, I breath deeply while I am reminded that the turning of the world isn't reliant on me. God has the plan, I just have to remain willing to step out and take the journey.

I am thankful for all these, my fellow travelers, as we find a convergent path for a time. Surely these days will never be forgotten. And so, we look forward to engaging the path again.

“was I chosen?’ ‘Such questions cannot be answered,’ said Gandalf. ‘You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.” 

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Love is War

Eleven days into our trip (officially my longest mission trip) and enough stories, emotions, and God-moments to overwhelm 1,000 blogs, I have learned more than I thought possible in five weeks.

Admittedly, before boarding my plane, I was quite nervous about our group and the dynamics that would help or hinder our effectiveness. The eight people (soon to be nine) that God placed around me are incredible. Awkward sometimes? Sure. Hilarious? Absolutely. Jesus loving? Unquantifiably so. Our team has bonded over puréed black beans, pitch dark bathrooms, gallons of sweat, and potentially Zika-carrying mosquitoes. Some are musically talented, some work well with kids. Others know how to wield a shovel and tow a wheelbarrow while kept focused by those that never complain and stay Kingdom-driven. In just a short week and a half, these eight strangers have grown to be like family. They make me stronger and remind me of the passion many young students like me have for pursuing a life of missions or ministry.

Our group has traveled to three different areas of Guatemala, spanning the country from east to west and bouncing over hundreds of miles of "gravel" roads (if only we were so lucky). Rio Dulce (the hottest town on the planet I'm convinced) was home to Pastor Hugo and his small congregation. As Chad posted about previously, we had planned on working on a building for a church plant from Pastor Hugo's church. However, because things are never quite simple in Guatemala, plans fell through. We had the opportunity to pray with people from this neighbor town of Esmeralda and encourage them with scripture on persevering in their faith. One woman, meaning nothing but the best, kindly dipped us out some yellow water (I don't exaggerate) and quickly added green Kool-aid powder. Guatemalans, and Latinos in general, are very hospitable and this woman held a child-like smile as she proudly distributed a full glass of this death-drink to our group. As Chad and several other groups members prayed and continued to read scripture, I took the opportunity to pour out an appropriate amount of the drink, appearing to have enjoyed it quite a lot. (Some may say I'm heartless, but my stomach thanks me.) An evening of worship with Hugo's congregation left us exhausted and ready for God to smite every mosquito in existence. We worked extremely hard the next day cleaning up the church yard, moving dirt, and allowing Pastor Hugo to focus on pastoral duties instead of aesthetics.

After a hot and miserable several days in Rio Dulce, our team drove seven hours to Semuc Champey. We stayed in a hostel fully equipped with a ping pong table, wifi, and nightly buffets. In Semuc Champey we swam through caves, jumped off giant rope swings, tubed down the river, and swam through seven natural turquoise pools.

The next day, our team drove over 11 hours (only spanning 186 miles) to Totonicapan. Pastor Julio greeted us and his wife and family graciously stayed up late to fix us dinner after our long drive. Sunday brought a local market, playing with kids at the church, and an evening church service in which our team boldly spoke Spanish in front of the congregation to introduce our team. Monday brought pancakes(!!!) and our first day of painting the church. Church members worked alongside us to apply two coats of paints throughout the church, including the vaulted ceilings. Our next day brought more painting and banning together to hold a rope for the church worship leader as he hung from the side of the building to paint the front. Needless to say, us gringos were terrified. No worries mom, I didn't volunteer. Each evening our team visited the hot springs to bathe, as the entire town is without running water (it is 8500 feet above sea level). The locals laughed at our reactions to the steaming hot and mysteriously pulpy water.

Today, our team traveled back to Guatemala City for a rest day tomorrow. In the midst of encountering faithful pastors that boldly lead their small congregations to reach their communities, the Lord has challenged me. I encountered a man with badly deformed legs, desperate for surgery. I received a disappointing MCAT score that only brings more nerves about my future career and what this next year may hold. Our team found a woman laying in the streets, seizing and in desperate need of help when receiving none from those walking past her. On my sixth international mission trip, the Lord has taught me that I am only as effective as he allows me to be. Desperate to help the sick and impaired we meet, the Lord reminds me that I will only do so in his timing and not a second before.

As I felt sorry for myself after receiving my MCAT score, the Lord has continued to humble me as I work through 2 Corinthians (that's 2nd Corinthians, Donald). I have been encouraged and challenged by my team members in our evening devotions, crushed by the help this country so desperately needs, and learned to love more purely than ever before. God's plan is never easy, fun, or expected. I rejoice in the unknown and what the Lord has in store for me and a career in medicine, missions, or whatever he wants! With three and a half weeks left in our Emmaus journey, I remain focused on the words Paul tells the church in Corinth:

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you." - 2 Corinthians 4:7-12 ESV

Pray with me that much will be made of Jesus' name in Guatemala. Pray for our team as we carry the Gospel to the least of these. The Lord does not need us, but is gracious enough to use us.

In His Service,

Vince

The Hunt for Claudia

This is a longer post but the whole story needs to be told.


"Jesus please guide me, I'm in over my head." I whispered to myself. It's dark I don't know where to go or what to do but Claudia needs help.

  I woke up on Tuesday, June 21st like any other day, somewhat tired but excited to start the day. We were running late to breakfast, which has seemed to become the norm, so in my rush I didn't even have time to stop and think. Out the door we went. Trailing behind I was making my general morning small talk when it was interrupted by a few of the group members surrounding a woman laying in the street. I was caught off guard "what could possibly be going on?" As I drew near it became evident everything was not ok, this woman in the middle of the street was having a seizure, and we were the only ones interested in helping. So we kneeled beside her trying to figure out what to do, how to help, how to possibly save her life. The hospital didn't seem interested in coming to help even after talking to them about what was going on. In the mean time we began to pray for it was all we knew to do at that point. "Let my faith be enough for her, please Lord let my faith be enough" I whispered to myself over and over. To say I felt weak and helpless in the situation is a severe understatement. The only information we had about her is what we could get out of the locals. Her name is Claudia, she has no family, she walks the streets alone, and has seizures often. She was alone and we seemed to be all she had. After what felt like an eternity, in reality about twenty minutes, an ambulance agreed to come and get her. Breakfast was quiet as we were all in shock and bewilderment of the lack of help her own people offered, how can no one care?

     The day went on, we painted and continued in our work at the church, but our minds were with Claudia. Had she stopped seizing? Was she alive? Did they help her at all? We went back to where we were staying for the evening. With about 45 minutes till dinner I was sitting on my bed trying to read my bible but simply could not, my mind could not transfer what my eyes were seeing into cognitive thought. I look up at Dalton and said would you like to go on an adventure? "I'm always up for an adventure!" He replied. "Let's go see if we can find Claudia, I want to know she is ok." So off we went. We stopped at a small store on the way to get a snack, well Dalton did. "This boy never stops eating!" I thought to myself but on the way out we saw Abby. Abby is a member of the peace core. We only met in passing, as she also stopped to help Claudia. We greeted her with an excited hello and the question of "where is Claudia?" She pointed us to the nearby hospital with a smile. After talking for about ten minutes we learned Abby was from Ohio, and was very excited about the recent win in basketball. The small talk seemed to go in one ear and out the other as I was anxiously awaiting greeting Claudia. Finally With a big smile, a warm goodbye and a "good luck" the search continued.

      We entered this gated courtyard, we see about five people standing around. Dalton begins to speak to them, Daltons Spanish is far greater than mine so I can only assume he is asking where Claudia has gone. With a point of a finger we look over and there she is sitting a few feet away. I suddenly felt a peace that she was alive, a peace that didn't last long. After exchanging words with the doctors, Dalton looks at me with a panicked look in his eyes, "They want us to take her home, they say she can't stay here." "How can we take her home?!" I wondered. We have no clue where she lives, does she even have a home? She is pretty much unresponsive, she can barely walk or stand , we cant even ask her where she lives, she just stares off into the distance as if she is fixated on something. So here we stand holding  Claudia up outside the now closed courtyard gates, just as lost and confused as she is.  It is now fairly dark, neither of us know what to do so we start walking. "Jesus please guide me, I'm in over my head." I whispered to myself. It's dark I don't know where to go or what to do but Claudia needs help. We asked some locals if they had any idea of where she could live and kept getting mixed responses, so we kept desperately mumbling our prayers as we ran into a local who spoke English. Never before had I been so excited to hear words in English, it was like a sweet Symphony to my Spanish riddled ears. He pointed us to what felt like the right way, the first time I felt this way since beginning this adventure. We are barely holding her up as she is tripping over the cobblestone road. I look down at her bare, bleeding, beaten feet and just look at her and say "Oh how I wish I could tell you how much Jesus loves you." We look up and see the spot where we found her that morning. Calling over some locals, Dalton rambles something off in spanish and they go back and forth for just a few moments. They tell Dalton that she lives in a village more than an hour drive away, let alone walking. I have never felt weaker and more out of control of a situation than in this moment, where to even start. We don't know what village, where, or how to get there. Its dark, we are late to dinner, we are worried, but we are praying. We look up and see the local pastor of the church, the same church we were painting that day. "Pastor Julio!" We cried. "We need some help." We went into the spiel of what has happened thus far, the look of hurt filled his eyes, the look of a hurt heart that has loved much. He helps us sit her down on a bench nearby and Julio started to pray. Afterwards we went to dinner and rested, my mind was elsewhere however.

     "Would you like to do a prayer walk tomorrow morning?" Dalton asked me. After all that had happened that night I loved the sound of that. I took a deep breath of fresh morning air as we walked out the door early the next morning. It was during that time of prayer I was reminded that God is good and His love is enough. He will provide for Claudia even though I was unable to, through that peace I continue on.

 Little is much when God is in it.

With the love of Christ,
Adam W. Roe.

Safe Within Our Churches: When God Refuses Our Requests

The world is vast and yet somehow small as we gaze from the upper window of the church in San Bartolo, Aguas Calientes. While dangers exist within our four walls, such as ladders and fragile scaffolds as we paint, they are known dangers, certainly dangers that we can tolerate. 

But a life spent walking with Jesus is a life that must be experienced out on the roads, in places where comfortability is eclipsed by the unknowns. Surely as followers of Christ, it is in these walk by faith moments that prayer comes to us: to comfort us, to guide us, and to allow us to encounter the power of God.

But what about those times when prayers go oddly unanswered? I've personally witnessed miraculous moments in the country. I have seen God's hand intercede in inexplicable ways that were undeniably Him.

And part of me has come to expect it. But this has not been that sort of experience. Repeatedly now, I have prayed prayers of God's intercession, to find the request denied, and our team has resolved situations with more mundane solutions.

Early into the trip, near Rio Dulce, we were asked to play a movie for a local church in a village. Amazingly, between the group, we had exactly the components we needed to hook up both audio and video from a laptop computer to a locally sourced projector. We gave thanks to God for providing exactly what we needed, hooked it all up... and it didn't work.

Adam Roe, an Emmaus Crew member and son of a Pastor, suggested that we lay hands on the equipment and pray. That seemed like a perfect idea. God wanted us to rely on Him. I've prayed over a dead car and a dead cell phone, and I've seen them restart and work... and so I expected this would be the same.

And yet... nothing happened. It just wouldn't work. Maybe we didn't pray through enough? Maybe our faith was too weak? Certainly these are questions asked by followers of Christ through the centuries. Instead, we found a family with a crusty old DVD player, and we watched the movie using that. 

Did God answer our prayers through the mundane?

Today the situation was much more significant. We came upon a lady who was laying in the street, her body ravaged with a massive seizure. We layed hands on her and we prayed. Desperately calling out as I've heard my Grandfather pray so many times. I called out to Jesus of Nazareth, we bound the illness, we used all the words that we see in the Bible, and that we see in our churches... and we believe. 

But again today... no instant miraculous intervention.

And yet... we knew a local pastor, who knew a local doctor, who came to the scene to guide us. We encountered a young lady on the street who lives in this city, is from the United States, and is fully bilingual. She had a contact at a local clinic. In addition to this, a paramedic truck came by and we were all together able to pick the lady up, lay her on a blanket, and load her into the truck.

Jesus liked to say to the crowds, let those who have ears to hear, hear. Let those who have eyes to see, see. 

Perhaps we are not so blind and deaf. Perhaps our prayers do not go unanswered. Maybe faith is something that is continually meant to develop. Maybe as followers we aren't always meant to rely on instant fixes. Could it be that sometimes God sends that startling fire by night, but at other times it is a more subtle cloud by day?

Maybe you're searching for a miracle? It's time for us all to get outside of our safe churches, to abandon the view for an experience. Maybe it's time to pray prayers that make us look ridiculous when they aren't instantly answered, and they force us to take faithful steps of faith even when it isn't easy.

Maybe we sit inside of safety and pray for answers.... when God expects us to get up, and BE the answer. I'm realizing that God never refuses our requests, sometimes we're just unwilling to hear His response. 

I do know this, each time we've prayed, a resolution has come.

San Bartolo Aguas Caliente ~ Painting a Thirty-Feet High Church!

The team has certainly come together nicely! Today was amazing for me to watch as young men and women from all over the US and from the town of San Bartolo came together for the common purpose of painting a massive church. 

A year ago I stood at the top of this extraordinarily tall balcony and wondered to myself, "How in the world did they ever paint that high off of the ground, and above the multi-layered balcony?" I told crew member, Iexa about that memory and she laughed at me and said, "I think God has a sense of humor with you!" 

Two fresh coats of the new color, going over the old pink.

This must be the case, because now I lead a crew of young men and women from all across the US and Central America who are now showing me exactly how that job is done. I looked like a Smurf by the time we hung up our brushes and rollers at 4:00, with this beautiful blue-green paint smeared on arms, legs, and even in my hair. 

The ground floor was completed today and the team
returns tomorrow to finish the upper floors

It has been a joy to serve Pastor Julio and his congregation. Today we were able to share lunch with them that included horchata, pepián, banana leaf wrapped tamales, and steamed rice. As the leaves were unwrapped and the tamales steamed, we looked across the tables at each other and were reminded of the Emmaus story as told in Luke 24 when Jesus took the bread, and began to break it for them all to eat. 

We worked together. We laughed and played together. We had lunch together. Today was a perfect day of walking with each other and with Jesus. The team has quieted now after a devotion and the sounds of worship coming from the roof as we all begin to tuck into bed.

Yesterday the team invited God to come, walk beside us, and to make our hearts burn as He teaches us along the way. Without doubt, God heard our prayer, and these burning hearts are grateful for His touch.

Rain is a Good Thing

As our first week closes on this whirlwind adventure, I've decided it's time to take stock of what I've learned so far. Here's a list of my top 5 Guate discoveries:

1) Guatemala is breathtakingly gorgeous. Its mountains, rivers, and hidden valleys hold amazing surprises ripe for exploration.

2) The toilet paper smells like baby powder.

3) Black bean cooking is an art. They can either be really good or REALLY bad, but you're required to eat them either way. (Does anyone have some hot sauce?!)

4) If you can survive eleven hours on steep backcountry gravel roads in a church van, you can do anything.

5) Rain is a good, good thing.

While Luke Bryan already told us about #5, the importance of rain in our lives is the discovery that has most shaped my attitude on this trip. As my teammates' posts can attest, we've been outside a ton, and while I love the outdoors, that kind of exposure in the crazy Guatemalan climate really forces you to get in touch with your caveman side - and also with the Lord.

One night this past week, when we were in Rio Dulce, I was lying in my hammock and trying to sleep. I say "trying" because I was sweating so much that I was practically percolating like a pile of coffee grounds. In the midst of debating between removing my bug net and facing the mosquitoes or continuing to drown, I sent up a wild prayer that God would send us some rain. Maybe in order to teach me about life in the mission field, he didn't send us a drop. I woke up in the morning not because I was well-rested but because I was suffocating from the hundred-degree humidity.

I can chuckle about that misery now because we're in the mountains in San Bartolo Aguas Calientes  - wearing multiple layers and (amazingly) rain jackets. It has rained every day we have been here, and I love it. The sound of it on the tin rooves outside, its ability to drive away pesky bugs, and the smell of it on cement are all answers to prayer. More than that, the weather has been a reminder to me of how  fundamentally dependent we must be on God. We need him even to bring the rain; somewhere in the midst of college, in the midst of my selfishness and pride, I forgot that.

Last night, as we sang praise songs and read scripture to the accompaniment of a downpour, the Lord nudged this verse into my mind:

"Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.” Hosea 6:3

When I was in that hammock in Rio Dulce, sweating away into nothing, my parched body was a reflection of my parched soul. So when the rain came - when the Spirit came - during our worship last night, it was all the more quenching because I saw with new eyes how desperate my soul is for God's deep, thirst-quenching, perfect love. Sometimes our bodies need rain to bring us comfort, but our souls will always need it more. And he promises us that his rain will come. Keep seeking, sweet friends. Keep thirsting. His shower of grace will take your breath away.

Giving Thanks with Broken Hearts & Open Hands

Acts Chapter Two Stuff... going down here.

Our LORD, God, I come to you tonight in thanks.

I thank you for our brokenness.

That's a really strange reason to give thanks,

but we're all here in our brokenness.

I give You thanks for this because I realize now that we 

are all here lying broken together. 

You have brought us here for our separate reasons of brokenness,

but you have brought us together to walk your path in this place.

I give you thanks for our brokenness because it is this brokenness

that allows us to be: discipled, trained, and 

reformed by the Master's hand. Reshaped again

for our created purpose.

And so now I ask that you take our broken state and allow us: 

to see You, to see others how You see them,

and even to see ourselves how You see us. 

God, we invite you to encounter us on the road.

Meet us in ways that we do not expect, teach us along the way.

Let us have those bread-breaking moments when 

You are suddenly and unmistakably in the midst.

Change us. We give You thanks for our brokenness.

We ask you to use it so that we seek 

and find more of You. Make our hearts

burn within us along the road.

These were just a few words spoken tonight during our time together tonight, after spending our first day when everything just seemed to "click" into place. Our time with the children felt natural, effortless, and meaningful. David slew Goliath, we sang praise, we played games, and we thrilled the kids with a giant parachute. 

We shopped at the market, learned how to bathe at the cities' natural thermal spa (the only hot water available), participated in the worship service, and had wonderful authentic Guatemalan meals together around a shared table. 

Tonight, for the first time, the group asked to have a closing devotional. It surely was the Spirit, it had been on my heart as well. We have been serving together for a week, and it was like a giant dam bursting as emotions found words and hearts realized that they were not alone.

Some healing began tonight in the lives of us all. We shared hopes, dreams, and struggles. Tonight was the night when we became brothers and sisters. Things got real. 

We closed with a simple song, sang by Cameron, called "Nothing To Hold On To." It beautifully summed up our day. Sometimes the message that God sends just comes at you in waves. Today we talked about Abraham and His total faith in God even though God's commands seemed so strange. Then later in our devotion led by Jacob, the faith of Abraham was again mentioned.

And then... this song, speaking of those hard times when we have to climb up the mountain in obedience even though we don't understand why we must make the effort. Even in the trying times of life, God can and will use His children... because He formed us, He made us, He breathed His breath within us to give us life. He knew us before we were born.

He is the God that pursues us. And so, with hands wide open, we give Him praise for our brokenness that allows us to fully receive Him as we make our way... along the road.

We are exhausted, and yet we rest with a new found peace. This is probably a good thing, because (6) 5 gallon buckets of paint await us for the morning!

"Please, Do you Have Any Water, Sir?" Make a Difference for the ONE.

I LOVE this picture in action... each person tells a story!

Travel between Semuc-Champey and Totonicapan spans the width of the country from east to west, covering: Izabal, Alta Verapaz, El Quiché, and Huehuetenango, covering the 300 kilometers, or 186 miles in 11 hours, 12 minutes, and 2 seconds. Our travels took us through mountain passes, paved highways, gravel, raw ground, clay, and mud. 

Passing through elevations of over 10,000 feet, we took our lunch and dinner from the small tiendas that we could find along the way. We drove through areas that were fully void of food and water.

About mid-way through a 60 kilometer stretch through a dirt trail mountain pass, our van came along a single mother in traditional Mayan clothing, standing near the road with her two young sons. At a glance, they looked to be about 8 and 10 years old. We began to pass them by, but something about them just looked out of sorts. Something just felt desperate about them.

I slowed and the oldest of the two boys ran to my window while the younger one ran to the passenger side. I looked down and the boy. He was wearing thin pants that were coated with dust from the road, and a blue shirt. His nose was congested and his shoes were in pieces. 

I leaned down and I motioned him over to my window. I reached into a small coin purse that we keep in the van console and I pulled out about 10 coins, totaling around 4 Quetzals (about 50¢). I placed it in his hand and his eyes looked solidly into my own as he spoke, a thank-you that seemed somehow deeply appreciative of the gift, but desperate with the knowledge that it just wasn't enough to quench the desolations that surrounded him. 

I looked back at his hand... his young palms were deeply creased and dirt was ground into the folds his skin. And they were rough. This little boy already knew the pain of labor.

At this moment his younger brother circled around and began to plead with me. I rolled up my window and began to drive away. 

To my astonishment, the young boy kept running beside our van. As I accelerated so did he. I was driving uphill on rocky terrain... and this boy in broken shoes was pacing me. I could no longer pass him by.

I stopped the van and leaned down out of the window. Motioning him to hold his hands up like a cup, I poured the entire contents of the change pouch into them. Now that we were close, I was able to really see his face. He had sores around his cracked lips. Mucus was dried around his nose, undoubtably a combination of a wood fire inside his house, and nasal irritation caused by dust, pollens, and molds.

I began to roll back up the window when I heard his voice, "Caballero, aqua por favor. Necesito aqua para mi familia. Cracked lips... dried dust on their clothes... yes... this family wasn't looking for a handout, they genuinely needed the on of the most basic elements of survival, water. 

When I looked into the eyes of these young boys, I saw into eternity. I saw the face of Jesus in their thirst. I saw the face of our two adopted daughters when we first encountered them in orphanages in impoverished cities. I reflected on the goal of adoption here in Guatemala that I share with my wife Kellie... these young boys are near the age of that we pray to one day adopt. 

I even saw myself. Desperate. Needing. Hoping. 

Antony, my friend and ministry partner suddenly was nudging my arm. He handed me his bottle of water and I handed it over to the boy who took it with a mighty smile. 

Thousands upon thousands of thirsty little mouths up here in these mountains, and I can't quench them all... but at least for a moment today, we quenched the thirst of three. 

It will never be about those we cannot help, but it will always be about those who are placed in our paths... that we can. We must do what we can for the ONE that is in front of us.

Emmaus is about meeting Christ along the road and I have no doubt that today we encounter him in the faces of two small boys who were thirsty and asking for a drink.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 

And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. 

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, 

I was in prison and you came to me.’ 

Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to 

one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’

Mt 25:31-40