We’ve been on the road now for 23 days and we have 12 remaining. Our path so far has led us to Rio Dulce, Semuc Champey, San Bartolo Aguas Caliente, Flores, Tikal, and Belmopan Belize. Monday morning greeted us with a 7 AM start, mixing concrete and painting fresh stucco. 9 AM kicked off team number two into high gear with Bible School for the children of the area.
Adam Roe described this experience as, “Sureal. Too Sureal. It’s like I’m here but I can’t even make sense of what’s going on.” There is something very accurate about his assessment. Caught up in the road trips, border crossings, extreme temperature variance, proximity to large insects, exposure to devastating poverty, the intense close proximity of 13 people, culture differences, and sometimes challenging culinary offerings, the soul just can’t seem to catch up to process the full spiritual impact. Without doubt we will all process these experiences long past the return plan flights to the United States. It’s my deepest prayer at this time that each crew member will reflect back with a deeper vision and veteran insights.
Indeed, it is surreal to me that we have only a single day remaining with this pastor and his wife. I stood in awe of her today in the second row of this church that they pastor together as she took the lower pulpit, gripped it with her hands, and sang out with a deep level of sincerity that I have never before witnessed. It took every ounce of self-restraint that I possess to avoid pulling my Galaxy Note from my pocket and recording her as she gave intense and intimate glory to God. I have never before felt so transfigured. She was signing for an audience of ONE, and she exalted us all to the throne room of God.
She stood in a loose, cotton gown that revealed the radiation burns on her upper body. Her hand trembled while she held the microphone and her entire body seemed to ache to keep her resolutely standing as she sang with her head lifted, eyes closed, and spirit glowing. I have never seen such a powerful display of faith and gratitude. Her single voice easily drowned out the other 40 voices.
Her redeemer has walked with her through the valley of death, she has endured chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and 25 rounds of radiation. She has walked faithfully with God through all of this misery, and here she stands, firm at the pulpit, showing the world what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. She reminds me of Paul. Nothing is greater than seeking the face of God. Even the threat of her own death has not shaken her.
I consider my worries of the next few days. Tuesday we will: (1) exit Belize, (2) enter Guatemala, (3) exit Guatemala, (4) and enter Honduras. Our drive time is about 8.5 hours, and we’ll be at the call of the immigration and customs officials each time we cross. We’ll set off at 4 AM and we’re hoping for a smooth arrival at Pastor Miguel Pinell’s mission at about 7 PM. While this is legitimately a challenge, it just seems trite and trivial when I look at the Pastora, praising God through the storm of disease.
I preached tonight and I went the extra mile in preparation. I was ready and I was sure it was a solid message. I’d preached it once before and it went well. Tonight though, it was just difficult. Each sentence out of my mouth seemed to be spoken against thick air. Maybe it was the heat? Even so, the intermittent “Amen,” or “Gloria a Dios” was thrilling, compelling me to continue one.
Afterwards I was approached by one of the men who led singing. While he sang I first recognized the tune, and then remembered the words as I belted out in English, “At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light.” As he led us earlier, I noticed that his pants were a couple of sizes too big and were cinched tight at the waist with a belt.
He came to me trembling after the service. He took my hand and wouldn’t let go. We talked for 20 minutes with terrible Spanish and terrible English. It just didn’t matter. I was praying that God would allow me to understand his meanings as he spoke words I didn’t know. In His miraculous way, God granted the request as our hearts connected. He explained that he felt unloved by his family and that his father had recently turned his back on him. He felt like his life didn’t matter and he feared the future. Tonight’s sermon had been about finding Rest in God through our obedient service towards the Kingdom. He told me his name and I took his hand again, repeating it, “Carlos Lopez. Carlos Lopez, I promise you that I will pray for you every day until I return here again next year. When I do, I’m going to find you and see how God has granted you peace, rest, a sound mind, a calm spirit, and to learn how He has used you. Pray for me as I pray for you.”
It seemed a fitting end to a whirlwind day. Earlier we floated down an underground river in tubes… but that adventure simply pales when compared to the conversations, interactions, and movements of God that I continue to witness as we walk together along the road.
Adam Roe described this experience as, “Sureal. Too Sureal. It’s like I’m here but I can’t even make sense of what’s going on.” There is something very accurate about his assessment. Caught up in the road trips, border crossings, extreme temperature variance, proximity to large insects, exposure to devastating poverty, the intense close proximity of 13 people, culture differences, and sometimes challenging culinary offerings, the soul just can’t seem to catch up to process the full spiritual impact. Without doubt we will all process these experiences long past the return plan flights to the United States. It’s my deepest prayer at this time that each crew member will reflect back with a deeper vision and veteran insights.
Indeed, it is surreal to me that we have only a single day remaining with this pastor and his wife. I stood in awe of her today in the second row of this church that they pastor together as she took the lower pulpit, gripped it with her hands, and sang out with a deep level of sincerity that I have never before witnessed. It took every ounce of self-restraint that I possess to avoid pulling my Galaxy Note from my pocket and recording her as she gave intense and intimate glory to God. I have never before felt so transfigured. She was signing for an audience of ONE, and she exalted us all to the throne room of God.
She stood in a loose, cotton gown that revealed the radiation burns on her upper body. Her hand trembled while she held the microphone and her entire body seemed to ache to keep her resolutely standing as she sang with her head lifted, eyes closed, and spirit glowing. I have never seen such a powerful display of faith and gratitude. Her single voice easily drowned out the other 40 voices.
Her redeemer has walked with her through the valley of death, she has endured chemotherapy, a mastectomy, and 25 rounds of radiation. She has walked faithfully with God through all of this misery, and here she stands, firm at the pulpit, showing the world what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. She reminds me of Paul. Nothing is greater than seeking the face of God. Even the threat of her own death has not shaken her.
I consider my worries of the next few days. Tuesday we will: (1) exit Belize, (2) enter Guatemala, (3) exit Guatemala, (4) and enter Honduras. Our drive time is about 8.5 hours, and we’ll be at the call of the immigration and customs officials each time we cross. We’ll set off at 4 AM and we’re hoping for a smooth arrival at Pastor Miguel Pinell’s mission at about 7 PM. While this is legitimately a challenge, it just seems trite and trivial when I look at the Pastora, praising God through the storm of disease.
I preached tonight and I went the extra mile in preparation. I was ready and I was sure it was a solid message. I’d preached it once before and it went well. Tonight though, it was just difficult. Each sentence out of my mouth seemed to be spoken against thick air. Maybe it was the heat? Even so, the intermittent “Amen,” or “Gloria a Dios” was thrilling, compelling me to continue one.
Afterwards I was approached by one of the men who led singing. While he sang I first recognized the tune, and then remembered the words as I belted out in English, “At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light.” As he led us earlier, I noticed that his pants were a couple of sizes too big and were cinched tight at the waist with a belt.
He came to me trembling after the service. He took my hand and wouldn’t let go. We talked for 20 minutes with terrible Spanish and terrible English. It just didn’t matter. I was praying that God would allow me to understand his meanings as he spoke words I didn’t know. In His miraculous way, God granted the request as our hearts connected. He explained that he felt unloved by his family and that his father had recently turned his back on him. He felt like his life didn’t matter and he feared the future. Tonight’s sermon had been about finding Rest in God through our obedient service towards the Kingdom. He told me his name and I took his hand again, repeating it, “Carlos Lopez. Carlos Lopez, I promise you that I will pray for you every day until I return here again next year. When I do, I’m going to find you and see how God has granted you peace, rest, a sound mind, a calm spirit, and to learn how He has used you. Pray for me as I pray for you.”
It seemed a fitting end to a whirlwind day. Earlier we floated down an underground river in tubes… but that adventure simply pales when compared to the conversations, interactions, and movements of God that I continue to witness as we walk together along the road.
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