Move Number 5

Some of you may remember a post that I made a while back when I moved into what I affectionately called the "Tree House". The "Tree House" was great while it lasted, though I have to admit, the "novelty" of coming home to the strong smell of mold, constantly hitting my head on the ceiling, and the creaking of the termite eaten floorboards wore off after a little while, and a change in location was overdue by the time Pam and I got married in November.

After a little searching, we found a two-room apartment, complete with our very own bathroom, which we are very excited about. We have turned one of the rooms into a kitchen/sitting room of sorts with our stove, table, fridge, and camp chairs, and the other room into the bedroom.

We have now been living there for about two-months, are starting to feel at home there, and are enjoying the $800 peso (or about $60USD) a month rent.

I realized the other day, that from the time I was born until I graduated high school, my family moved one time; from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Suwanee, GA. In the past year and a half or so since I moved to Mexico, I have now moved five times: From the US to a host family, from host family to the school's facilities, from the school to another host family, from host family to the "Tree House", and from the "Tree House" to my current apartment. God willing, we'll be able to stick around here for a little while before the next move.

Baptism

"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." -Matthew 28:19-20

A few months ago, I posted a blog telling about how my friend Saul had decided to follow Jesus. I wanted to give a little update on how he was doing now, a few months later. When Saul first told me that he wanted to follow Jesus, I asked him if he wanted to be baptized. He told me that he thought he should study more of the Bible and know God more before he did it, but that he would like to one day.

A couple of weeks ago, I revisited the subject with him, and Saul told me the same thing, thinking that he had to know all about the Bible and God before doing something so big as baptism. I then led him to the passage of the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8:26-40), which tells the story of Philip baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch immediately after the truth was explained to him. After reading this scripture Saul's response was almost the exact same as the eunuch’s...He looked at me and said, "So you don't need to know a lot to be baptized?" I told him no, that we needn't know all about the Bible and God to be baptized. Saul then asked me, "Then why shouldn't I be baptized?"

Saul is going to be baptized in a few weeks! Praise the Lord!

The Finishable Task?

Here is a short excerpt from a book I've been reading called Christianity Rediscovered by Vincent J. Donovan. In the book, Donovan, a Catholic priest, tells of his time working among a Massai tribe in Tanzania, Africa, and the journey he went through to get away from the cultural missional models of his time and back to the models of Paul and more importantly, Jesus. This excerpt speaks of a few of the objectives we want to see accomplished here in Tlaxiaco and throughout the world, as well as some mission theory that we have been dialoging about recently. Anyways, there's just a little background on the book. Here's the quote...let me know what you think...

"That very idea of one hour left, symbolizing a short period of time, for founding church then leaving it, is a haunting notion to a missionary. It makes the dream of world evangelization seem possible somehow.
But before dreaming of word evangelization we would have to change our approach to young missional churches. Today before we count our work finished in the young churches, we feel compelled to leave with them a staggering complexity of buildings and institutions and organizations; church buildings and their accouterments, seminaries to train candidates for the priesthood, catechetical centers to train teachers, novice masters and superiors to begin religious congregations, lay organizations, diocesan and chancery structures and a promise of continued financial assistance and subsidies.
What if instead of this unending process we considered our work a truly finishable task and left these churches only what St. Paul left them? At first sight, this seems much less than we feel compelled to leave with them. In reality, it is more than we dare to give them.
As you sit watching the sinking sun you wonder if there were still time for missionaries, somewhere, somehow, to be able just once to carry out missionary work as it should be carried out:
To approach each culture with the respect due to it as the very place wherein resides the possibility of salvation and holiness and grace.
To approach the people of any culture or nation, not as individuals, but as community.
To plan to stay not one day longer than is necessary in any one place.
To give people nothing, literally nothing, but the unchanging, supracultural, interpreted gospel before baptism
To help them expand that gospel into a creed and a way of life after baptism.
To enable them to pray as Christians.
To leave them the Bible towards the day when they can read it and use it as a living letter in their lives.
To insist that they themselves be their own future missionaries.
To0 link them with the outside church in unity, and the outside world in charity and justice.
To agree with them that baptism is indeed everything; that the reception of baptism is the acceptance of the total responsibility and the full, active sacramental power of the church, the Eucharistic community with a mission.
To encourage them to trust in the Spirit given at baptism, and to use the powers and gifts and charisms given to the community by the Spirit.
And then the final step.
The final missionary step as regards the people of any nation or culture, and the most important lesson we will ever teach them is to leave them." P. 120-121

Let's Give a Hoorah to Jesus!

Early in August of last year I met a guy named Saul (who many of you have been praying for for some time), who was drunk the first few times I saw him. He had worked in Florida for a few years a while back, and wanted to learn some more English, so I started teaching him English lessons a few times a week, and we started becoming friends. When school started last year early in September, we continued to hang out occasionally, but not nearly as much, as classes took up a little more of my time, and, after a while, we really never saw each other at all but for a few times when we bumped into each other on the street.

Early this summer, I ran into Saul one day, who was drunker than I had ever seen him before, which is saying quite a bit. He told me that he was having relationship problems and whatnot, and I wrote it off as no big deal, because I had seen the guy drunk so many times. I just figured that it was no big deal, and that he'd sleep it off and be fine the next day. I ran into him a couple of days later by mere "coincidence" and he was just as drunk as he was when I had left him a couple of days before. I had beaten Saul in a shooting competition we had between the two of us a while back and he owed me lunch, so I told him that I was hungry and wanted my lunch and used it as an opportunity to talk to him and figure out what was going on. Over the course of lunch he asked me, "Wasn't there a man in the Bible named Saul?" I told him there was. Then he asked me, "The Saul in the Bible was bad like me wasn't he?" I told him that the Saul in the Bible was one of the worst people there was, killing many followers of Jesus Christ, but that God came to him, redeemed him, and made him one of the most powerful disciples of Christ that has ever lived. Then I told Saul that God wanted to the same thing to him that He did to the Saul in the Bible. I told him that God wanted to transform and redeem him, and to use his life to bring Himself a whole lot of glory. I then asked Saul if he liked being that way, needing alcohol to kill his pain, and he told me no, to which I asked if he wanted me to show him another way. He told me yes, and agreed to study the Bible with me.

I honestly figured that he wouldn't remember about studying together once he sobered up, but sure enough, about a week later his girlfriend, himself, and I were sitting together in the kitchen together to study the Bible. God is so awesome...the first time we got together, I told them that I wanted to share with them my testimony before we did anything else, so that they knew why I believe what I believe and not think that I am just some rich white kid who had never had to put his beliefs to the test. As I began to share my testimony with him, Saul identified with every bit of it. As I shared with him about my struggle with anger, he told me that he did too. As I began to share with him about all that my mom went through with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), anxiety, and depression, I learned that he was dealing with all of the same things. I assured him that God had not only the power to heal him and deliver him from that oppression, but that God also loved him enough to do it. Saul led the prayer that night as we wrapped up, and told me that he wanted to continue studying the Bible together.

The next week or so we started studying the book of John, because it is all about love, and I felt Saul needed to know that God loved him. That though there was a lot of junk in his life, God loved him. A few weeks later, we studied John 3, and when Saul saw Jesus' love for him in John 3:16, he told me that he wanted to follow that Jesus. I had heard John 3:16 probably more than any other verse in scripture, and it sadly did not have quite as much power to me as it did the first time I had heard it, but to this thirty-two year old man that had probably never heard the verse before, he heard in it the love of Jesus, and wanted to follow Him too.

Saul and I are continuing to study the Bible together and learn together what exactly it means to follow Him...So, let's give a Hoorah to Jesus...Hoorah!

The "Tree House"

As many of you already know, I have been living in a host family for the last few months, focusing on language learning and learning culture (the details of which to be discussed in a later post). I had a great time with them, and really got to bond with the family over the little time I was there.

As the summer has started winding down, it became time to start looking for an apartment to live in for the next four months or so until Pam and I get married in November. So, my future roommate, Chino, and I set out to look for a two-bedroom apartment to live in. After about six hours of knocking on doors like Jehovah's Witnesses in three different "barrios" (Or neighborhoods...they are really more like large sections of town rather than neighborhoods, but they don't consult me in the translation) and finding absolutely nothing, I have to admit, I was a bit discouraged. Chino and I had just about had enough looking around for a day, so we both decided to call it quits and go grab a bit to eat, when we noticed another apartment complex, so we decided to give it a look.

The landlady told us that she just had one small room available (remember we were looking for a two-bedroom apartment), but we figured that it couldn't hurt to see it. She walked us over to a tight spiral staircase and we climbed the steps whereupon I hit my head on the roof of the little balcony that comes about up to my eyes. We walked in the room, and the first thought in my head was that it looked exactly as if I was in the coolest tree house that I had ever been in. It had thick wood plank floors, with different cubby holes and a desk built in the wall. The ceiling was about two inches taller than the top of my head, and there was a thick wooden beam that ran across the top of the ceiling in the middle of the room, which I had to duck under when I crossed the room. It smelled a lot like what I imagine your grandma's house might smell like, which I have come to the belief is due to mold as I have yet to find a hidden bag of potpourri. And, to top it all off, there was a door in the wall that opens to nowhere...it just drops off the the ground 10 feet below. So, if you have been reading, I know I need not say that I promptly rented the room and moved in the next day, and will be staying there for the next few months.

I know there's a chance that the women who read this will not see the beauty in a house that you have to duck in, cubby holes, and a door that leads to nothing (or a trapdoor, if you will), but if you allow me to enjoy my tree house, I promise to let you enjoy your tea party.

...Oh yea, I hung a hammock in the middle of the room...it's pretty awesome...

Failures...

I have recently realized that, though I have told a few stories about God's greatness and what He is doing here, I have failed to convey some of life's challenges and failures. In an attempt to sell as many of you out as I can for missions and for the nations, I have withheld stories of getting the door slammed in my face, feeling lonely, and being kept in bed for days with diarrhea. And though I will probably continue to spare you the stories of my bodily functions, I do believe that we can learn just as much (and sometimes more) from each other's failures and challenges as we can from each other's successes. So, below is something that I wrote in August, almost a year ago now, when I was still living with my first host family, and before I started Missions Training School. It is written in the third person, because I was too ashamed to put myself personally into the story. I hope that you may be challenged from a failure of mine to be a little bit more radical with a lot less fear for Jesus Christ.

"A woman crawls on hands and knees, her withered feet dragging uselessly across the cobblestone pathway leading to a church that can offer her nothing. Her gaze is focused on the ground rather than where she is going for she cannot bear to see the look in the eyes of those who pass her by. She sits next to the door, with a meager handful of two-day-old, slightly undersized and overripe fruit to sell for something more substantial to eat. With each opening and closing of the door, a brilliant golden light cascades over the pathway; but a painful reminder of her poverty. Every soul entering and exiting the grand cathedral has a purposeful, steadfast look, anywhere but at her. She is too humiliated to call out, to beg. She is alone, and she knows it.

Across the road, a man walks into the park, a foreigner carrying a backpack filled with the money of two different countries, a spare jacket, and extra food. He sits on a bench snacking on candy bought in the marketplace. Food bought on a whim, without having to consider the money it would cost. Laid open across his lap is a book, its pages wrinkled and it’s leather binding worn. For the man is not a mere visitor, but is there to share light with those walking in the darkness.

He pulls out the old book, which falls open easily in the palms of his hands, and is about to read when something catches his eye: a woman, sitting alone next to the door of the magnificent church. For a reason he cannot explain, he cannot take his eyes off of her. He had seen her once before, and he had passed her by. His heart, fills with compassion, and he longs to see her stand. He feels a tugging at his heart, some inexplicable force pulling him toward her, but he fights it. Fear overwhelms the compassion he only just felt. Fear of what, he isn’t sure. He fears that she will not stand, fear of being inadequate, fear of not knowing the words to say are all possibilities. One thing is for certain: this fear paralyzes him, rooting him to the bench in which he sits.

The woman knows she is being looked at; it is feeling she is only too used to. She lifts her head to see a foreign man, with eyes fixated upon her. His look is not that of disgust or disdain, but rather of tenderness and compassion. She knows that he has something to offer her that no one has ever offered her before; she can see it in his eyes. She longs to go to him, to see what it is that this strange foreigner has to say, but she is afraid. Afraid of what, she doesn’t know. Afraid that his look will change from compassion to aversion upon seeing her crawl his way, afraid that he will walk away.

So they sat, looking at one another, inner turmoil boiling within, fear stopping both of them to respond to the yearning of their hearts. He finishes eating, puts his Bible back in to his bag and walks away, crushed by his lack of faith. She puts her fruit back in to her pockets, adjusts the pads on her knees, and crawls the opposite direction, tears streaming down her cheeks at what that look could have meant.

The man goes to his room, and begs forgiveness from his merciful God, forgiveness for his lack of faith and ignoring the urgings of the Holy Spirit. His spirit lifted up, he goes back to look for her, but she is gone. He will keep looking for her. He will keep looking for all of them, all of those forgotten by the world, but remembered by God. He will not give up. When he sees her, when he sees them, fear will not overtake him. Not again."

...When we are connected to the Vine, that fear disappears. Let us all be so close to Him that we could not possibly fear for knowing that He will deliver, because His compassion and love far surpass ours (not to mention the fact that He promised He would). I pray that none of you would ever let fear hinder you, as it did me, from doing the work that God has laid out for you to accomplish, because His perfect love, indeed does, conquer all fear.

Videos...

I just wanted to make a quick note that the organization that I am with, Global Frontier Missions, is running short-term mission trips all summer, and there are videos which recap each day of those trips posed on globalfrontiermissions.com/videos for any of you who are interested in seeing a different side of the work thats going on here in Tlaxiaco, Mexico.  I myself will not be in any of these videos, because I am focussing my time this summer building relationships and ministering to the local people through language learning (I'll describe a little more in detail as to what that process looks like in another post).  Have fun checking out the videos...I hope they fire you up for reaching the lost.