"I am in San José, Costa Rica, following God on an individual missions calling. This is my first time going to the mission field alone, independently, without any organization or friendly English speakers to accompany me. From the very start it's proven to be much more difficult than I had expected, but at the same time, I love it...

...I've gone from suggesting a single word in English to being promoted in business negotiations as a personal consultant to becoming intimately involved to the highest degree in this entire affair in which the future of Latin America's inaugural health awareness programs are at stake. Monday I'm even contacting the First Lady of Belize!"

 

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While on the World Race I was asked what my plans were for returning home. In Me and the World/Human Race, I wrote,

 
"I desperately want to take hold of the growth I'm experiencing on the mission field. I want to share my passion for the Bible with family and friends. I want to spread my growing desire for intimacy with Christ to the local churches.  I can hardly wait to apply eleven months of godly fellowship to my current and future relationships back home: to better honor my family, to further challenge my friends, and to better love my future wife..."

I meant every word from the bottom of my heart. Upon returning to the US, I've found that my personal mission field has done nothing but dramatically increase in size. I have more opportunities than ever before to serve. There are more chances to be a witness for Christ. There is a greater need for God's love and provision here and now than anywhere else I have ever been. By the grace of God, doors are being opened, venues are being forged, and relationships are being strengthened. My heart is beating a million beats per second at the name of my God!  And you know what... thank you. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for enabling this. Just as no part of the body can survive apart from the rest, and just as the heart cannot pump blood without receiving oxygen from the lungs, I would not be where I am now without your support.

 

There is no doubt in my mind the transformative power of the Holy Spirit. I've seen it. I've heard it. I've witnessed it, and I love talking about it. In fact, if right now perhaps you don't really know what to believe about Jesus Christ, I would drop everything to spend time with you, listen to you, and pray with you. Contact Me! The book of Psalms is full of men who, after personally experiencing God, are literally consumed with passion and want nothing more than to declare it to the nations. Some faith is blind, and I believe blind faith can be very dangerous, but I suggest to you that some faith is not. Faith itself carries with it the ideas of belief, trust, and commitment. The faith a husband has in his wife, for example, is not blind. He has seen the way she looks at him. He believes the vows she made him and delights in her promises. He has felt her warmth and remembers the times when she was there for him in the past. This is the kind of faith in Jesus Christ that I want to share.

 

In faith, I trust that Jesus Christ will build His church (Matthew 16:18), and that, in our age, the church is not a finished product, but a continual process. That being said, I believe the Holy Spirit is beginning a new movement in Lima, Ohio, or at least a new movement in my heart. I just want to offer whatever experience, whatever gift, whatever time, and whatever resource God has given me to this church that He is building, and I want to invite others to do the same. I've been praying a lot about this, and I believe God has laid some things on my heart. On October 4th I will be sharing about these things at Gardendale Church of God (in the morning and evening services). As usual, I'm terribly nervous. As usual, I feel terribly insufficient. And as usual, I need to give everything over to God and ask for your prayers once again in seeking His guidance, His direction, and His strength.

"Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31). 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am home. My father found me at the Dayton airport, and he didn't seem at all surprised when I introduced him to an elderly couple I met from Peru who spoke only Spanish. He wasn't phased when I explained their emergency and how they needed his cell phone. He didn't even wonder why I had a kazoo in my mouth or smelled like Dunkin' Donuts and Febreze. I could tell the only thing on his mind was letting me know how much he loved me.

 

I am home. I walked into my room and hardly recognized it, not because I've become so accustomed to the Third World, but because my mother had taken pictures from various blogs, printed them out, and beautifully framed them across my walls. And my bed was made.

 

I am home. Tears swelled up in my eyes as I praised God in an American church for the first time in a year. In the middle of the sermon, the pastor recognized me in the back and stopped everything to have the church welcome me home. In fact, this blog is perhaps a bit late... I have randomly shown up to a few places and freaked out people who hadn't been expecting me.

 

But I am home, and I am praying, and I am listening, and I am waiting. More to come...

 

 

 

 

Here is Ometepe Island:

 

 

 

Here is the church:

 

 

 

Here is the view from my favorite hammock:

 

Like I mentioned before, ministry is a bit all over the place. I've been involved in everything from laying bricks in a septic tank to performing a waltz in front of the entire orphanage community. I've never danced so much in my life. We eat every meal with the kids, and I spend the majority of my free time with them, as well. The kids here have such big hearts, and I often feel like they minister to me more than I minister to them. Here are some more pictures:

 

 

 

I thank God for sharing this place and these people with me. After living with them, I've gotten a beautiful picture of the life here. They get it. The staff gets it. The director gets it. The children get it. The community gets it. It's such an encouragement to see an orphanage built upon Jesus Christ making such an impact in the lives of so many people, but I have sobering news. The Nicaraguan government doesn't want the kids at the orphanage any longer. It wants to place all of the children back into homes. While this can be a very good thing, many of the children have been placed back into the same abusive homes they were taken out of in the first place, and the abuse has continued. I'm not a social worker and I don't have any solutions, but I know the children need our prayers. These kids are so special...

 

 

Here's why:

 

 

 

Alejandro became my shadow. When I was little, I would sit next to my dad at church and half-hold, half-play with his hand. Instinctively, I held out my hand for Alejandro when he sat next to me and he started doing the same. Every service from then on he sat next to me to hold and play with my hand. I was constantly reminded of my dad.

 

 

 

 

Their kind of relaxation really resonated well with me. I liked the hammocks so much I bought one!

 

 

 

 

 

My mom always took care of me. She played with my hair, scratched my back, and shared her love with me. Being able to do the same for these kids meant a lot. Here is little Lupita (Guadalupe), my favorite!

 

 

 

Lupita and Marta getting into trouble, like usual!

 

 

 Víctor is my Spanish name... Olivia wrote on her hand, "My best friend Víctor," with my pen on the last day before we had to say goodbyes... ahhhhh. ¡Que triste!

 

 

 

 

Honestly, it reminds me a lot of home. The contrast between these past eight months of poverty and this one is incredible, but beneath all the luxury lies a subtle world of dangerous excess, and I walked right into it the very day I arrived. This is Neno.

 

 

Covered with tattoos and body piercings, he first greeted me with a playful smile and the flick of a cigarette. He was rough around the edges, but had the sort of character that betrayed a curious softness on the inside. These past two weeks I've spent a lot of time with him, and I've seen some really cool things happening. To be honest, though, I've heard some pretty disturbing things, too. He's given me permission to tell some of his testimony, but I hope you don't read this as just another story on paper. His struggles are very real, but we both hope that you see beyond them. The purpose of this writing is not to showcase a man, but to use a man's story to showcase something far greater.

 

Over ten years later, Neno was smoking 15-20 joints of pot each day.

 

At this point in his life, it might seem like the right moment to introduce the hero of the story, but it didn't happen like that for Neno. Things continued to get worse before they got better. In my next blog, I'll share some very deep hurts and the thing that changed his life forever.

 

*CONTINUED*

 

 

I'm in Palenque, Mexico. Within jogging distance are the most significant and best-preserved Mayan ruins in the world (so say the locals, at least). Even after a span of over one thousand years, much of the culture has maintained a rich Mayan influence. There are still two hundred villages surrounding Palenque, where indigenous dialects are spoken instead of Spanish. It may be surprising to some of you (it was to me) that persecution is a major issue here. Our contact has witnessed Catholic priests ordering the burning of Protestant churches and homes. This is in the 21st Century! Superstition and mysticism are widespread because there is very little being done to teach the truth. The vast majority of people in this region have never read the Bible, and we hear testimony after testimony of lives being radically transformed upon obtaining the personal and living Word of God. Thus, our contact's primary ministry is running a Bible Institute for local pastors, preachers, and Sunday school teachers. No one who works at this Bible Institute gets paid, yet God steadily provides volunteer pastors who pay their own expenses to come and teach. It's an absolute joy hearing all the ways in which God is providing for this otherwise completely unassisted project, from how they acquired the building and how it is maintained, to how speakers continue to volunteer, to how so many lives and communities are changed because of it.

I'm also really excited about some of the ministry we plan to do next week. We're going to be traveling to one of the indigenous Mayan villages, bringing with us our tents, Bibles, and some live chickens as gifts (cluck cluck). Hopefully they receive us and God opens doors. If things go well, we'll stay with them for several days and find our own way home (our contact won't be staying with us). Pretty wild.

 

 

Perhaps the coolest moment of all, though, came after we finished ministering to them. It came as yet another shock to me, but it was so awesome. A huge crowd of maybe thirty prisoners came forward in front of everyone and decided to bless us in return before we left. In the unity of Christ, they raised their hands and spent time in really sweet prayer for us. And I just sat there in worship, receiving love from men hardened by the chains of prison, but softened by the grace of God.

 

 

 

 

Have you ever read when Jesus summons the twelve and sends them out in pairs? It must have been such a cool moment. He granted them authority over all the powers of darkness and sent them out to be His representatives to the world and ambassadors to the nations. As an exercise of faith and in order to identify with the commoners, they were to take nothing but a walking staff, a pair of sandals, and the clothes on their backs.


 
So off Joel and I went. We arrived in Donji Vakuf and wandered around in prayer for a while. We scouted out the local centers of religion (one Catholic church and several mosques). No one really spoke English and we had no idea what to do next. Our focused and determined prayer revealed to us that we were probably too focused and determined, so we decided to let loose a bit and follow our hearts. Naturally, we found ourselves hitchhiking with a sniper in the Bosnian army. He drove us through several towns and many gorgeous landscapes. Of course the devastation caused by the war is evident everywhere, but beyond the bombed out buildings remains a natural beauty that is truly one-of-a-kind.
 
 
 
The town we ended up in doesn't get many visitors. I say this because there were no hotels, motels, hostels, camping grounds, or even couchsurfing communities. I mean, there was simply nothing available. As the sun started going down, the town started coming alive. It was as if the whole town got drunk at night. Raucous bonfire parties, alcoholic bellowing from the streets, and fireworks reminded us to be cautious. We never quite found a Ritz-Carlton hotel resort, but I snapped a few photos for you of our pleasant abode, complete with broken glass, rampant vegetation overgrowth, freezing concrete, and wild animal growls.
 
 
As comfortable as it was, I only managed about one hour of sleep. As soon as the darkness began to lift at about 4:30 am, we made a fire to warm up as we eagerly awaited the sun's gentle warmth. When the rest of the town woke up, God set his plan in action and things started to get really interesting.
 
 
 
 
By far the greatest part was the openness and safety we all felt in conversation. All day and all night we talked about life's mysteries, the arts, culture, war, God, religion, and Jesus Christ. We encouraged one another and really bonded in ways only God could foster in just two days. He took us to "the most beautiful view in all of Bosnia" at the peak of the 2nd tallest mountain in the country. It was simply breathtaking. I stood in awe and just praised God. We sat down and admired God's beauty and power and enjoyed each other's company for thirty of the most peaceful minutes of my life, and then headed back to the cabin for more fellowship.

 
 
But right as we got the fire going in the cabin and started to settle down for the night, something unexpected happened. We thought we were totally alone on the hillside, but the undeniable sound of an engine pulled up outside of the cabin. Edin suddenly became very serious and said, "Oh man, uh-oh. We have company. This isn't good." Things got a little hectic for a while, and the adventure gained a bit of true Bosnian flavor, but God ended up providing a nice escape for us. We ended up at another cabin, with a friendly but stern old couple, still warm with a roof over our head -- safe and sound.