Lost Sheep

I am sorry for the delay in the blog. Andrew and I got back about a week ago and he has since left to go back to the States. Also Kay´s parents were here for a bit.

In this blog I will just tell how our most recent trip went. Though it was rather short it was one of the most important trips we have done thus far. My first trip with Andrew the people worked us really hard and at times it felt we were only hired hands which seemed as if the real reason we were there was lost by the people. This trip was to regain the focus.

We decided to plan only to work half the day and reserve the rest for studying Quechua. If the people were willing to accommodate we could stay and if not then we would have had to find another place. Learning the language is of the utmost priority and we wanted the people to remember why we were there.

To the Praise of our Father it was a very successful trip. Upon arriving to Quchumi we found that they had been saving our room for us until our return. We were able to work with our Man of Peace all the days and were never without food.

The first time we had to leave to go study and not work the rest of the day was hard because Don, our Man of Peace, had a hard time understanding and even asked us who was now going to help him. Though a little worried at first, we still received food and the promise of work for the rest of the week.

Andrew had memorized a story, which was Jesus´ parable of the lost sheep. Upon hearing this story, Don was excited about learning more stories in the future and understood the need or our studying. I asked him a few questions about the story Andrew told. His favorite part of the story was that God was looking for the lost sheep and he even said that he felt like that he was the lost sheep.

Though our trip was short we are really excited about what we were able to see during our time there. God is preparing the hearts of the Quechua in Quchumi for His Precious Word. We are just excited about being a part of this work.

I want to thank Andrew Griffith for his time here in Bolivia. Though he was only here for two and a half months the work he did here was invaluable to our team. Andrew, thanks for being my partner and being so passionate about His Glory as I believe you accomplished much here for the Kingdom. You are going to be missed.

Fellow Workers

As many of you know I don´t exactly have experience in working out doors except picking up pine cones and mowing the grass. This aspect of our job always scares me a little.

We enter into a community with the promise that we will work for a place to stay and food to eat. At times when we didn´t have work we wouldn´t eat (many a time the people were so generous and gave us food anyway). For most of the people they live hard lives and seem to age faster than normal. They work from sun up to sun down with little variation in their average routine. Though difficult we were fortunate enough to help the people and work along beside them.

Every morning Andrew (my partner) and I would wake up with the sun do our usual morning routine and walk outside, sit on a wooden stump and wait for whatever was to come that day. If food came then usually came with it the promise to work. The first few days were the easiest as all we did was seperate potatoes and later spread them out. Though boring, it was not all that bad. The people also made this type of potato called Chuño. It takes a long process of several days to make these things, and there is stomping on the potatoes which we got to partake later in our stay. They are probably the worst things known to man.

Right now being in harvest season the work we did the most had to do with wheat whether it was cutting or carrying. It took us some time getting used to cutting the wheat but after awhile we took pride in our work. (Weirdly enough we began to have conversations about wheat like, ¨that wheat was great to cut because it was long and smooth unlike yesterday which was very dry.¨ We realized we had cut too much wheat at this time.) Many times we spent all day cutting fields of wheat, but sometimes we would have to walk an hour or so just to get to the field.

Our health was good basically the whole time. Andrew got sick one day (the day we had community work day repairing a stone road...good times), and I got sick the very last day which has since affected all my team members. I cut up my hands pretty bad doing stupid things (like cutting my own hand with a sickle). We had to take vitamins to supplement the lack of everything in potatoes. We had potatoes every meal, and though sometimes it was in a soup type deal, most of the time it was just a basket of potatoes. In the end I did not bathe for three entire weeks (new record). We did our best to wash up whenever we could be there was not much of a chance really at all to do so. When I finally got to bathe it was as if the dirt was caked on and took several showers to finally remove the filth.

Though it was very difficult working and living like the Quechua it is of the upmost importance and advantage to do so, if only to not be a burden to the people as Paul did in Thessalonica, ¨for you remember, brothers, our labor and toil: we worked night and day, that we might not be a burden to you.¨ Also in this way we have become more like the people, equals, and not just strangers with some foreign message. It is amazing how deep with the people we were able to be just because we were living life like they do.

¨He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. For we are God´s fellow workers...¨

As we keep planting we know that God gives the growth. But how thankful we truly are to be given the privilege to work not only for God but with God. To think we are His ¨fellow workers¨ is a humbling thought but it also gives us strength and hope to face each day. And though our work was very physical and not many people could see the eternal results, we worked with confidence that God was working the whole time and that makes all the difference.

Greeting Them From Afar

We just got back from our trip to the Quechua who are in Quchumi, a small community of twenty families living in the mountains in the Chayanta Department in Bolivia. To the praise of our Gracious Father we were able to stay for three weeks working and trying to learn culture and language.

In the next blog I will write about the work and physical aspect of our trip. This blog I will just relate about what God did with our time in Quchumi.

We entered Quchumi the 13th of June trying to find a Man of Peace to stay with, work with, and eat with in order to earn our keep while we studied the language and culture and built relationships.

There were many hardships that we encountered. The suspiciousness of the people at first, the food, and the work. We started working for several different people in the community, which turned out to be a blessing in itself allowing us to get to know more people in the community. We, however, finally ended up with our Man of Peace in the last seven days of our stay, which we worked really hard for him all those days. He was, by God´s design, the owner of the house we had been staying in the whole time, but did not find this out until the end.

The greatest hardship was the language barrier. Many of the inhabitants of Quchumi spoke enough Spanish for us to get by, though most of the time our limited Spanish exceeded their level. We had few chances to practice the language but heard it a fair amount. The temptation was great to begin telling the Gospel in Spanish, but to keep the Gospel pure we refrained. It was quite difficult to stay for such an extended time without engaging in any time of ¨Evangelistic Outreach¨ or even start storying. We strongly believe, however, in our method of learning the language and teaching the stories, God´s Story, from beginning to end if not to cheat or rob them of truly understanding His Message.

At many times it just felt like we were surviving. We would get up and work, some days for over ten hours with little conversation (when eating with the Quechua in their homes they usually serve guests outside while they eat separately inside their house). I believe even with the barriers of language and limited fellowship we were still able to build valid relationships. At times long days of work were made all the worth it when a five minute conversation somehow came through revealing their interest in hearing the Gospel. Upon many questions we found out the people have a general idea about God, almost nothing of Jesus, but all have the interest to learn the Word. We have received an invitation to come back any time to stay with them and to start teaching.

At times it was extremely difficult to keep looking down the road to when we could start storying. This is such an important process and during days of hard work, eating a million potatoes, of being the outsiders for so long, we had to keep saying to ourselves, ¨we are doing this so they can hear.¨ Though through this work we aren´t able to see any ¨results¨ yet, we believe it will lead to something beautiful. As the saints of old greeted the unreceived promises from afar we too greet the promise that the Quechua will hear and we continue in that hope.

¨...not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar...¨ - Hebrews 11:13

Beside Still Waters

My partner and I just got back from a short trip from the major communities in the Chayanta Province. We needed to make good contacts and get some more information about the area before we headed out for months at a time.

The trip was absolutley amazing and I don´t have time or space here to tell how God just showed Himself over and over again. In Ravelo, the first community, we couldn´t find anyone that knew anyone from the church and pastor has left to go somewhere. It started off rough and I remember being so discouraged right from the beginning thinking we weren´t going to find anything or be able to visit all the communities on the list in the short allotted time we had. God was ready to prove me wrong.

We got on the next bus to get to the small community outside of Ravelo, and I sat there on the thiry minute praying hard to God that He would just move and we could see Him move. There was a nice guy on the bus that helped me with my bag (I had nowhere to put it). When we got off to this tiny village, the guy that helped got off too. I asked him if he knew if there was a church in this village and if there was could I talk with the pastor. It turned out that he was the pastor and we had such a great conversation and he helped us so much.

From that point I was able to have peace in His providence and for the rest of the trip things happened in such a way that I looked back and said, ¨That was Him,¨ whether it was receiving food from random farmers who couldn´t speak spanish when we didn´t have food as we were just walking by, or finding the only bus leaving a certain city to the very place we needed to go, but only because the woman at the little store brought it up randomly (or not so randomly), we felt His presence everywhere. Only in His timing and His way were we able to reach each community that was on the list in four days (we had 7 or 8 to do so), though couldn´t have done it if we needed one more day given that we didn´t bring enough money. When we got back home to Sucre we had less than 20 cents between the two of us.

I praise God because I know for a fact that He did everything, brought us to each and every place we needed to go, and met people on the road and every corner who were exactly the person we needed to talk to. At times as we had our backpacks and met other travelers I felt as if I was in The Pilgrim´s Progress and each person, each city, each experience we grew in Him, in His presence, as well as His pleasure. He lead us every step of the way, and in His peace we were always beside still waters.

I didn´t take a bath for four days, and if this was fifteen years ago I would have been really proud of that. I was happy to get a hot shower this time around though.

¨He leads me beside still waters.¨
- Psalms 23:2

Lead me to the Rock

Now in the City of Our Lady Peace (La Paz) and we are headed to Peru for our Annual Meeting for the Xtreme Team. I figured I would take this time to relate what happened in our last investigation trips. By the way, I have loaded many photos of our travels on Facebook, but have yet to do it on this blog site. Sorry about the delay it just takes a long time to download for that particular site.

After many delays we were able to finally head off to Colqa Pampa, one of the bigger communities about a seven to nine hour walk away over some pretty high mountains. My partners had taken a shady little bus the time before, but we all decided to do the walk this time, proving to be a lot shorter...and a lot harder.

The mountains we have to climb over stand mockingly to the east of our base camp in Pocoata. Upon first sight of them I was a little intimidated, then my feelings were confirmed with the ascent. Our base camp sits at over 11,000 feet, so with our climb we reached as high as 13,500 feet, just 500 feet below the tips of the rockies. At this altitude it is hard to breathe, and makes it that much harder trying to climb mountains.

Before we actually left, the caretaker of our house told us there was going to be a huge festival, and that all the people in all the communities would be drunk. With our limited time to do the investigation we thought we would give it a try anyway.

It seemed like nothing went right with this trip. The ¨Man of Peace¨ from Javier and Caleb´s last trip was not there, so we had no where to stay. People were getting drunk at ten in the morning, and so most of the people were incoherent. After my partner got in a awkward situation of where he had to drink some alcohol, we decided it best to leave and try to our chances with the other communities. It was all the same everywhere we went. It was such a sad situation and we decided to come back when this festival was over.

After a day of rest we decided to head back. The mountains this time looked smaller, more manageable and we reached all three communities in one day. Though having nowhere to stay in the first we tried the second, but they didn´t want us to stay, so we went to the third, called Qarchumi. At this time we had been walking for over nine hours and I was deserately praying for a place to stay the night. We had the option of the tent, but still had to walk a good ways to even set it up. We met with the Mayor of Qarchumi, a community of twenty families or so, and they fed us and we were able to stay with an elderly lady that night. God provided.

The next morning the Mayor told us that they had no work and nowhere for us to stay so we needed to go onto the next community. Feeling the rejection once again we left. As we were leaving another guy came up and gave us fruit and asked us where we were going. I told him we didn´t know but wanted to work for our food and a place to stay if only to learn from the culture. This man then gathered the leaders of the community including the mayor and after meeting for thirty minutes they questioned us about our reason for being there (some of them wanted money from the North American) but after explaining our desires, they all agreed to give us work, food, and a place to stay.

The first day we worked with the Mayor, basically clearing a field of rocks preparing it for planting. It was a good six hours of labor. The Mayor kept sticking leaves of cocaine in his mouth and chewing them, occasionally offering it to us, but we graciously declined. Caleb threw out his alcohol thinking it was left over water. This is what we call creating a barrier. His kids were with us throughout the day as well. They were kind of the highlight, laughing at everything I did.

We were really excited about this and one of the guys even mentioned that we could teach something every afternoon. Hoping to do this next morning we woke up with great expectations, only to be shattered by the news that none of the people had any work for us and couldn´t feed us. Once more the Mayor told us that we needed to leave.

Feeling somewhat unwelcomed we decided it was better to leave, but they promised they would allow us to stay another time. The elderly woman, who was wonderful, told us that when her husband returned we could work with him, and that she would cook us something very good. This was good news, on many accounts. We could return in the future and have someone that wanted us to stay and work provided, that and the promise of good food considering the time we were there, it was somewhat lacking.

The generosity of the people was such a blessing from God. The people kept bringing us potatoes and corn. It was overwhelming. Also because they would stand there in front of us waiting to get their bowl back, and after five bowls of potatoes we still had to put it down. God provided.

Not having sufficient time to investigate another area and a festival on the horizon we thought it best to return to Pocoata.

Thanks for all your prayers and please keep praying for Javier and Caleb. We still don´t know about their situation and are hoping to see the LORD work in way we know it is from Him.

Both small trips really pushed us to our limits at times. Between the physical aspect, trying to find our way, the drunkenness and rejection, and just trying to really inquire of God of what to do next, I felt so overwhelmed and drained at times. Though, in every situation, though at times ambiguous and uncomfortable, I could feel the LORD´s leading and the confirmation of His Will for my life. Looking at the foreboding mountains before me I could only think of all the times that God has called me to something terrifying, challenging, and ultimately higher than I. It is in this leading to the Rock that we are purged, tried, and ultimately changed into something more beautiful than we could ever imagine. It is in this leading that I rejoice. I hope to keep ascending.

¨from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.¨

- Psalm 61:2

The Refuse

Right now I am in a city called Oruro, which is about six hours outside of our base camp in Pocoata. I just wanted to update about what is going on with our team and ask for a lot of prayer. This is quite a long post, but it would be great if you could take the time to read it.

I have two partners on the team. Caleb is from Sicuani, which is just outside of Cusco and is Quechuan. Javier is from Samán, a small community on the river between Pucallpa and Iquitos. For them both to work on our team that have had to raise support from their local churches. They were promised a certain amount, just enough to be able to live and work in Bolivia. After they completed their first investigation, they were out of money and came back to Oruro, which is the closest city that has an ATM, to get money. They only had enough money to get to this city but not enough to get back. When they arrived there was no money in either of their accounts. That night they slept on the street and went without food as well.

The local church was able to help out a little, enough for them to have a room to stay in and some crackers to eat. They used some of the money to buy back the camera they had to pawn in order to get some food. Coming back from Chile, I finally arrived to give some support. We have talked with the churches and are trying to work all this out. At one point Javier called his church and they had told him they changed their mind about the money and didn´t believe that he needed it. Right now we are still waiting on the churches to send the promised money.

At first the guys were really down, if you can imagine. They felt abandoned in so many ways, and felt even guilty for having feelings of resentment. Last night we met as the church and just start praying and reading scripture. To be honest it was really the first time our team was together and had such an opportunity to do so. It was such a beautiful thing. We had a time of confession, sharing what we learned and what we are learning, and as more time went on we really felt the presence of the Lord and our confidence grew that He was in control of the situation and we were able to start resting in that.

We read the passage in 1 Corinthians where Paul talks about what it means to be a missionary, a servant of Christ:

¨For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. We are fools for Christ´s sake...we are weak...we are held in disrepute. To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure;when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things.¨

After reading this passage you could see the change within my partners by the appearance of their faces. It was like a joy washed over any disappointment, any sense of abandonment. We talked about what a privilege it is to be the refuse. This is what we signed up for, and more so what we are called to be. For now we see all these things of hardship and difficulties as a sign that we are in the lowest ranks, the most desired of all.

This is not to say we have faced so much, but only as all this happened as to prepare us for whatever the LORD has for us. That when we face hunger, thirst, sleepless nights, and total rejection, that it is not something strange happening but it is our life as Christians.

Caleb, the Quechua, is very soft spoken and even at times it is difficult to hear what he is saying, unlike Javier who loves to talk and at quite a substantial volume. Caleb shared the story of the Caleb in the Bible, and how at the end of his life he asked Joshua for the territory promised to him. He says, ¨And now behold, I am this day eighty-five years old. I am still as strong today as I was in the day that Moses sent me; my strength now is as my strength was then, for war and for going and coming.¨ My partner Caleb then said, that when the LORD called him to be a missionary He gave him such strength and such a desire to do so, and after all that happened, after so many years of training and waiting, like his name sake in the Bible, his strength and desire hasn´t diminished a bit.

Both of my partners have such a desire to see the lost who have never heard come to Christ, and they absolutley have to trust God´s provision for them to be able to do so.

One day in Pocoata, Caleb and I were eating lunch. We thought Javier was still in Peru because he had not received his money yet from the church. Caleb looks to me and say, ¨I feel as if Javier hasn´t eaten today. I don´t know why but I feel someone is telling me this.¨ Later that night, Javier shows up unexpectedly and turns out that he had been traveling all day and hadn´t eaten anything.

I have been blessed with the best partners, who are just so broken for the lost and so humble before the LORD. Please pray for them, that they can receive the support they need, and just be able to praise the LORD for His sovereign provision.

·Caleb is on the right and Javier is on the left

Flaming Tongues Above

Training Part 3
I have pictures posted up now, so if you want to view them they are on my links section on the right, and for your convenience I named the link ¨Pictures¨.

There were many hard things about training. It actually was the theme of my life during this time, but the most difficult part for me was the language. For this I thought I would dedicate a portion to describe the road that I traveled in this area.

Spanish was so important because none of the Latins going through the training spoke English and the training was totally in Spanish. As mentioned before, every English word was five push ups, and for the Indigenous it was the same for their language. I basically had to live the language because it was the only way to function. All the classes were in Spanish. From asking for a bowl of rice to explaining my favorite part of the Bible I had to learn how to express myself. I really had no classes and no formal training of any kind, but they really just threw me into the situation and learned by survival.

So many times I felt like a child and was even viewed as being less intelligent at times because I could not articulate what I wanted to say in their language. At one point we had to read Genesis in Spanish and after seeing what chapter everyone was on most of them were done and I was one of the last. One of the guys made fun of me for being so slow, and I threw my Bible in English at him and told him to read one sentence from Genesis in English and he could not. It took some of them awhile to understand the struggle because they never had to learn a foreign language. But for most of them they were so patient with me and were the greatest teachers and still are.

Even at the beginning I felt like I hit a wall with the language and ever so slowly pushed it forward the whole time. The vicious cycle of it all is that the more I learned the more the native speakers would use more complicated sentences because they assumed I understood more. It was as if I felt that I was never moving. At one point my boss, J told me that I was really struggling in the language. Then he told me that my dictionary was my new novia (girlfriend), named Dixie (after ¨dictionary...still not laughing). I had to have it on me at all times, sleep with it, run with it, do everything with it and if I was caught without it I had to do twenty-five push ups. Then if I said ¨no entiendo¨ (I don´t understand) then I would have to do twenty-five push ups. Another addition to these requirements was that if I could not speak Spanish at the end of training no one would graduate, which gave my Latin brothers the responsibility of teaching me.

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This whole process was such a struggle in so many ways. Because we were living Spanish it affected all areas of my life, from building relationships with the guys, learning all the stories in Spanish, and trying to process all the classes. I got so discouraged at one point that I really challenge God on my calling to this place. I felt as if He really wanted me to do this He would supply all I needed, including being able to speak the language. I cried out to God after many weeks of struggling, and just told Him that if He did not give me the language then maybe I was not called to be a missionary. The next day I was able to roll my r´s, which I had never been able to do. It was like a small gift of confidence as if He was telling me it was not going to be easy but I would get through it. From the point of hitting the rock bottom and just being at the place I knew that I just could not do it, I believe was the turning point and it slowly but surely gave me the ear to hear and the tongue to speak.

The entire journey was so difficult but led to truly beautiful pastures. Some of the amazing things were when I would remember something my boss had told me but not remembering if he had told me in English or Spanish. Many times I would just sit and listen to hours of Spanish being spoken without knowing what was really being said but only picking up things here and there. As time went, however, things became clearer and I was able to understand more. It was like the rising sun revealing all of creation and everything slowly appears with more clarity. So it was with the conversations that I was listening to.

I have grown to appreciate many languages because we would sing songs in Chayahuita, Aguaruna, Spanish, and English. It seemed like a foreshadow of the beauty we will be able to experience in Heaven. Learning the story of the Tower of Babel in Spanish I found ironic and even cursed those people blaming them for my problems. But even though it was a punishment by God, in His goodness, by turning one language into many He made it possible for Him to be praised in so many different ways all beautiful.

I am blessed to say that I am functional in Spanish. In all we learned over thirty stories in Spanish. I probably memorized more of the Bible in Spanish than English. Both of my partners working with me in Bolivia are Latin, and one of them is Quechua, and so all our communication is in Spanish. And now I am learning Quechua through the medium of Spanish. I would never have imagined. Please pray that I can learn this language fast and efficiently and thank you for all your prayers for Spanish because I knew the LORD heard them.

¨Teach me some melodious sonnet sung by Flaming Tongues above.¨

True Bread

Training Part 2
Sorry it takes so long for me to post. I just do not have too many opportunities to sit down and take the time to do this. Forgive the delay and thanks for the patience. Hopefully before the rapture I can post some pictures.

So here the details of my training, basically the makeup of what we did during the training. First of all our training consisted of eleven guys, four girls, and a couple that are now my bosses. it was a diverse group with two Chayahuita, two Aguarunas (indigenous tribes), two Ecuadorians, and four Peruvians. And of course I was the only male Gringo in this training. The whole training was entirely in Spanish. Every word spoken in a language besides Spanish was five push ups. If you can imagine, I did a lot of push ups.

The first phase of the training was all physical. We had a rigorous training of exercises of push ups, sit ups, and running almost every morning. In total I ran one hundred and fifty-two miles and walked one hundred and forty-eight kilometers to practice for Bolivia. In this phase we also constructed houses, using our machetes and axes. They were made only out of wood and leaves for the roofs. While we worked on our houses we stayed in tents. It was in this phase that J (Jeremy, our boss with the tattoos) tried to teach us discipline, responsibility, brotherhood, and overall how to be a missionary. Most of the first month was just getting used to the outdoors, bathing in the river, eating less, and learning to survive in those kinds of circumstances.

The second phase dealt with learning about the church, the history of the church, and how to start in a church in the communities. They put us through what they called, "Virtual Missions." In this they acted out being the indigenous people and put us in situations that tested to see how we would react and what we would do.

The third phase focused on the stories, but in reality we did this from the beginning to the end. The people groups that we work with do not know how to read usually but are usually a very oral culture. So, we memorize the stories of the Bible in their language and teach it to them, from the beginning all the way to the end, so that in this way they can have their own Bible and be able to form their own church that is distinct to their culture. We were given the responsibility to construct the stores and teaching it to the rest of the group. We learned up to Thirty-seven stories telling the story of God's redemption through Jesus Christ.

At the end of the training we were tested on the three stages - the physical, the knowledge about missions and the Bible, and the stories.

During training we also spent time in the communities near our training. We found our "man of peace" at the beginning and this is where we slept and ate and studied their culture. This was kind of our practicum and allowed us to share stories with them. For some of the teams they were able to see churches formed in these small communities. But overall this was a great way to give us some practice and confidence in the future.

As for a normal day we would get up about five, usually a little before and do our workout. After we bathed in the river we fixed breakfast, which we used fire wood and cooking pans. We would then have our classes and during the first stage we spent the day constructing our houses. Even during this time we were responsible for learning the stories. We would eat lunch in the middle of the day which was always the biggest meal. Usually when the sun went down, we would cook dinner and go to bed between six thirty and nine. Not a whole to do in the jungle when it is dark.

The food. Well, we were given an allowance for the week to buy our food from the local market. It rounded out to be about four dollars per person per week. The food usually consisted of watery oatmeal used as a drink, rice, beans, potatoes and the famous pancakes (more like a tortilla made from flour, water, and a lot of sugar. We ate this almost every meal, which probably took a few years off my life)Some of the guys made traps and we (I use "we" very lightly) killed a few rats and an anuje (giant rat) and yes, we ate it. We did not have a whole lot of meat so anything like that we thoroughly enjoyed. We also ate turtle, rabbit, guinea pig, and cooked and raw worms. This might sound intense but to be honest after the first week I was satisfied to have my rice and beans. I never realized how much I idolized food until I was put in this situation but I learned, with all aspects as well, that it is amazing how when taken all my comforts away I can really start to be content with my lot, that in all things I have joy because if nothing else the Lord is my Bread.

Maybe some of you who are reading this think you could not do something like this but after my experience I know that to be untrue. I believe man was made for the wild, for the outdoors. It is in his blood. Sure the heat, the bugs, the rain can be irritating but only in the end it makes you appreciate more and builds more character. I can honestly say there is no peace like one can feel out in nature. It definitely was a struggle throughout, if only after battling spiritual struggles and language struggles you have to deal with nature. For me, the peace that I felt, I know that God carried me all the way for which I am so thankful and could not have done any of it without His Grace. I guess, in the end one only has to be willing and God takes care of the rest.

A Return to Dust

Training Part 1

I am finally out of training. I hope in the next week or so I can post all about my time in the jungle learning how to be a missionary, but as I know it is hard to read one incredibly long post, I will break it up into different posts depending on the subject. Hopefully add more pictures later as well.

The first thing I will share is an experience that I shared earlier that my boss posted on the Facebook Group site, Xtremers. It was probably one of the most if not the most important lesson I ever learned:

This is my testimony, but in reality it is more of a confession. I am here in the jungle with nine other brothers from totally different cultures and I am learning a lot. A lot that has been somewhat of a surprise to me. Here in the jungle it is amazing at how I have been able to reflect on my life so easily. God is revealing things in my life, ugly, horrible things that exist in the darkest part of my heart that I believe I have been hiding from all my life and still struggle with. We were challenged to meditate and spend time with God listening to his voice. I began speaking to God, and it felt like my words were going nowhere, and God wanted me to listen. Against my comfortable feelings, I began to listen. God began to tell me all the junk that existed in me. I was absolutely horrified by the sin in my heart. Being here, I have been struggling with so many things, life in the jungle, relationships with my brothers here, and mostly with the language. My thinking, though I probably wouldn’t have admitted it, or even acknowledge it, was trying to do this and that to earn God’s favor, to earn the favor of men, to win souls, and in reality I was doing it all for my glory. In my life I had been trying, trying so hard to “win souls,” to make revival happen because of my actions. After reading 1 Corithians 1:17, “Not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of it’s power,” God was telling me that I had been emptying it’s power for so long because I wanted the glory, because I wanted to “earn the crown.” It was such a humbling time, a horrible time, but a time I was completely broken in the presence of God Almighty and I was scared out of my mind. All the things I had been and still am struggling with, I thought I had to overcome with my strength in order that a people could be reached. God basically laughed at me and asked me, “Who are you? What can you do?” It is God’s work to win souls; my only job is to share God’s word, lest I get the glory when the glory belongs to Him. I am dust and my glory is dust. For so long I have been trying to appear righteous before man, fooling them, fooling myself, but in reality, in the light of my Savior, I am unrighteous, unholy, nothing. And what at first felt like such a sting to my pride, was actually a release of a burden I had carried my whole life. I am free to share God’s word and leave the work of transforming hearts to Him. I am ready to listen to God’s voice, to obey where He leads, but most of all I am ready to let myself be used despite my weakness, in order to see His glory be displayed. A part of me is ashamed to share this, because it reveals such an ugly side, but in truth, I feel much freer to share this because I know that whatever happens God will be glorified, and for that I am grateful and rejoice.

In Psalms 90, Moses writes,

¨Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the Earth and
the world, from everlasting to everlasting You are God. You return man to dust.¨

To be dust one can truly see that it is God who is working with His great power for His great Glory. But what a privilige to be a part of this great work, and though we are dust we are still considered Sons of the Living God.

In this Psalm, Moses writes,

¨Let the work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their
children. Let the favor of the LORD our God be upon us and establish the
work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!¨

I will be working with the Chayanta Quechua in the mountains of Bolivia of whom less than 2% have heard the Gospel. Pray that God will prepare their hearts for His message and that He will establish the work of our hands.

Measure of my Days

It has been forever and a day since I lasted posted and for that I am sorry. As soon as I was able to get out of Nueva Vida, I went to another community before I had time to update. So here it is.

May 29- We head out from Yurimaguas to go to Nueva Vida, a small Chayahuita Village. We get on a very small boat with an engine that resembles that of a mower engine with a propeller on the end and with thirty other people we head out. We are on that boat for close to thirty hours straight, the boat did have a small covering so Big Red didnt consume my flesh. At one point during the evening, we hit a shallow spot, which we had to get out and help push. This was just the beginning of river fun.

May 31- We get to another smaller town, a few hundred maybe, and switch to a peki peki. A boat that is carved out of a tree, and that same lawnmower engine with a propeller is stuck on the back. They tell us at three in the afternoon that we should be in Nueva Vida in four hours. Eight hours later in the pouring rain, with no cover we arive there around midnight. There was a bit of leakage problem that we had to use a bowl to drain the boat of water periodically. Cold, tired, hungry, and wet we finally arrive.

June 1- The first day we get aquainted with the community, learned some of the greetings in Chayahuita. Only a hand full of people spoke Spanish, and none of the women did.

June 2- This was community work day. We wanted to earn our food, and our stay, and just be a part of the people as much as possible, so we sharpened our machetes and started to help. The project was to basically cut the grass throughout the community in order to maintain it. We went to town on that grass, and before long we both realized we were the only ones working, because everyone in the village was staring at the silly gringos hacking away at the grass. I like to think we held our own, except when I reared back with my left hand and the machete was flung a good twenty feet behind me. Luckily no one was there. That would have kind of ruined my witness, but they just laughed at the silly gringo. This was a good day, despite the several blisters, if only because they had never seen gringos work with them in that way. It was a great testimony to what we wanted to accomplish in that we are all working together.

June 3- Sunday, and we went to church, which is pretty traditional. The women get dressed up in their traditional Chayahuita dresses and paint their faces. Most of the village came to church, as the village was founded as a Christian community. One could sense their deep commitment to the Lord. Later that afternoon we went fishing with a net...great fun.

June 4- We head into the jungle to clear it with our machetes and do our part. This was a lot of fun, until the heat and the bugs just wore me down. That night is when the sickness really hit me. I had a terrible fever and my appetite immediately left me.

June 5- The Typhoid totally took me out this day. I was bedridden and lost all energy, my whole body ached and was severely weak. I had a temperature of 104, and didnt drop under 102 for two days. They had a clinic which gave me some medicine and basically just checked to see if I had Malaria. I wont go into the details of the sickness but it was not pretty.

June 6-8- Because I got sick we werent able to go out to the other communities in order to tell stories and train the Chayahuita. So we were waiting until I got better before we headed out. For three days I didnt eat except maybe a few crackers. I recovered slowly but surely and my appetite took a long time for it to come back. I ended up losing close to fifteen pounds.

June 9- Two people died from Malaria. One of the founders of the village, an older man, and a teenager. We visited the families during this time. For the most part, these people see death as a regular part of life (which it is), and at first I thought they were kind of cold, but when death is this common, they learned to live with it and treat it as such.

June 11- Jeff was diagnosed with Malaria. We realized we needed to get out to get proper treatment, and basically leave the Chayahuita do their work because by this time we were only hindering them.We were going to leave this day, but the waters were not high enough. It is dry season and boat travel depends on the rains. We were actually so fortunate to be able to get to Nueva Vida as soon as we did, but the Lord brought the rains for us to go up river. Now we were waiting for more rain to get us down the river.

June 12- It rained all night and most of the morning. The waters raised significantly. We were sure we would be able to leave, at least fairly soon. That night we find out there was a strike in Yurimaguas, the whole city, so we werent able to get a ride. We prayed for the strike to end.

June 13- That morning we find out that the strike ended. True answer from God, however the waters lowered already and there was no ride. We had to pray for more rain and a ride.

June 14- We find out that there is a man leaving this day, but he didnt have a boat yet. We prayed for a boat. We left Nueva Vida in the afternoon on a boat, Glory to God. By this time my sickness had totally subsided and I had my appetite back, which was good because Jeff had lost his, which meant I had to eat his portions as he had to eat mine when I was sick. It seemed to work out perfect like that. For the most part Jeffs symptoms were so mild and almost non-existent that travel was much easier.

We took a peki peki and had to get out numerous times to push. The boat almost tipped over and our bags fell in the water. We were wet, cold, tired, hungry, and smelled awful. That night they take us to a town to rest. We knew no one and had to find a place to lie down for the night. We walk aimlessly into the village and a family took us in and fed us and gave us a place to lay our heads. Lords provision.

June 15- We took the boat to another town where we got on a bigger boat to get to Yurimaguas. This boat had a cement mixer, a ridiculous amount of bananas, pieces of meat hanging dripping blood on our bags, and a huge bull. Yeah, I thought to myself, I wonder how they got that huge bull in here considering there was maybe a hole next it about three by seven feet. We stopped a little ways...to pick up another bull. When I saw them dragging this unwilling bull down the hill, I said to myself, surely not. Well, sure enough, they dragged the bull, kicking and what not, through that small three by seven foot hole. It basically collapsed after the struggle and they tied it down so it wouldnt keep charging me though it tried many a time. By this time Jeffs symptoms were acting up and we were desperate to get to Yurimaguas. At six we finally made it, smelling like manure, exhausted, and Jeff was so sick that I was worried.

The strike, however, was still not officially over, so we had no ride to the hospital. The father-in-law of the man we stayed with brought over some medicine but quickly had to leave because the natives were trying to slash his tires and throw rocks at him in order to enforce this strike. Jeff had taken some medicine, which had a lot of side effects, not so pleasant. By the morning he was feeling much better and we walked to the hospital for there was still no transportation. At the hospital they tell us things we already know, and he took the medicine already that they recommended. All was well, because we were mostly fine by the next day and traveled by bus and car for two and a half days to Lima.

Nueva Vida was a beautiful community with beautiful people. Everyday we would look out and be amazed at the mountains that surrounded the village and each sunset was breathtaking. I was truly blessed by the passion of the people, how they loved each other, and how generally everyone seemed happy, seemed just content with their lot in life.

Our diet basically consisted of green bananas (immature bananas -terrible) that were boiled, with yuca, and soup, sometimes chicken.We bought noodles and fish spaghetti (it is as nasty as it sounds but at the time, it was glorious). That was basically it with the exception of a lot of Papaya, coconut, and we had monkey. Hoorah! We went hungry many times. Many times there was just no food. We bought some crackers and one or two days that was all we had. However, looking back, God provided whenever we needed it. The people that took care of us were so gracious with everything, and I cannot count all the times people brought us fruit to eat.

I cannot express how much the Lord saw us through time and time again. What I learned, what I experience through those two weeks were so difficult and trying to my soul, but it was something that I needed and that I can now cherish. What comes to my mind is that the Lord just totally dashed me against the rocks, totally humbled me. There I was having no Spanish, no training in the area of missions, but there to learn as well. I couldnt contribute really anything, couldnt build relationships not knowing the language, and had to depend so much on Jeff on translation and so much more. Not only that but I hindered the ministry when I got sick.

At this time is when I had such a dark brutal night of my soul. I felt so worthless, so down, so incapable, and all the time I was so miserable physically. I can honestly say that I was never mad at God, but emotions, feelings of abandonment, of loneliness, of worthlessness flooded me, consumed me. Psalm 39 was my passage. I did all I could to not speak out against God, for the sickness, for being dead weight, for the total humiliation, but in the end I did hold my tongue. I felt that God was telling me over and over again that He wanted to break me in everyway, to make me truly know the measure of my days, that my life is His, His to do whatever He wants with me. I felt spent by the hostility of His hand, but verse seven spoke so clear to my soul. "And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is you." This changed everything for me, from waiting on a boat to waiting for the day I knew Spanish, to waiting for the day I was finally trained, to waiting for the season that I could be used. He told me to wait only on Him, that all my hope is in Him. That in waiting for this day or that season, or even for a boat, that God always has something for me right now, even if it is to humble me and dash me against the rocks.

I am so grateful for that season. I know the measure of my days, and I hope that I will spend those days in continual hope in Him. Though they were tough days, lonely days, I wouldnt trade that experience for all the treasure in the world. Not only that God, in the days of uncertainty of about our travel back to Yurimaguas, whispered so softly to me saying "For what are you waiting for? I am here, hope in me." I let go, and God continually showed Himself faithful time and time again, whether it was bringing rain, stopping a city strike, getting a boat, healing sickness, or even delaying the sickness long enough to travel, I was utterly amazed at His Hand on our lives and continually directed our path.

I praise God for all the people that have been praying for Jeff and me. Your prayers were answered in more ways that you can ever imagined. Especially the letters that I received from everyone was such a blessing to me that I was never alone, but I had so many warriors interceding on their hills so that I could make it through all the battles taking place in the valley. Thank you so much. I am so grateful for all of you.

In the end we gathered a lot of information about the Chayahuita and recruited two guys to come to the training in August that I will be going through as well. Jeff, in the past few weeks, received more extensive training about how to train, and he might be going back to Nueva Vida in August to help once again with the work there. If nothing else, I grew so close with my Savior, and I am so thankful to draw ever so close to His presence, even it was a painful process of peeling all the pride and the flesh off my heart.

I will try to add some pictures to this post and will shortly post about the most recent travel. Right now I am in Pucallpa about to travel to Lima to get my residency. Pray for our country because it is in turmoil right now and there are strikes happening everywhere. But what do I wait, my hope is in Him.

Half the Battle

The last post was kind of serious. I hope this one is a little lighter, but maybe still of some value.
When I first went out into the jungle, I took all the things I needed. Shirts, socks, pants, soap, you know, the essentials. Well, an epiphany came upon me that I had not packed any of my boxers. The only boxers being the ones I had on at the time. A glimmer of hope resided in me that Jeremy, my leader, might take me back to get some. Upon asking my fearless leader, he simply replied, ¨man, that sucks.¨ And as I walked away, humbled in defeat, he called back to me adding to his first comment, ¨You know what the G.I Joe saying is...now you know, and knowing is half the battle.¨ He was quite amused at this, which in fact was amusing, but better if it was at the expense of another.
Needless to say, I experienced the jungle commando style (sorry if this offends anyone, not sure why, men used to run naked in the Olympics, maybe not a sound argument). If nothing else, I did learn that I didn´t need my boxers. I survived, and it was actually an experience that helped me realize something. That so many times we depend on so many things that are not necessary. They are comforts or even luxuries, but not having boxers was one less thing to wash and keep up with. It proved to be more efficient.
Knowing is Half the Battle, and we never know until we experience it. Whether that be hardship, suffering, even love. Books don´t suffice, even seeing someone else go through the fire is not enough for us to be able to know what it is like when we are tested. Experience is knowledged.
Some of the things I have eaten have been pig intestines, a pig´s foot that was used during a class on stitching (we don´t get much meat in the jungle, I believe I ate the cartiliage all on that foot), papaya, which is amazing by the way. Our main food usually consisted of rice and an egg or oatmeal for breakfast. We fried many a bananna which surprisingly tasted so close to French fries. I guess when you are hungry it doesn´t matter. I had a piece of Armadillo, and some of the other guys had killed a snake and fried it before I had arrived. I hate that I had missed out.
Walking to my ¨casa¨or house, which was made by my partners, I had to cross over two small creeks, one which was about fifteen feet wide, the other about ten. Our ¨bridges¨were trees cut down and placed over the chasm. Yes, it was a chasm. Shoes proved to be the clumsiest, as I fell many a time, and bruised up my legs pretty well. My pride was hurt worse but fortunately no one saw. It was best to walk barefoot, because that was when one had the most balance. But it also opened up the possibility of any number of things biting or who knows what. I had a ¨piki¨ or some little buglike creature that had made its home in my big toe. I didn´t think much of it, but did wonder why my right foot was missing the same bump. After it turned black I realized something probably should be done, and yeah, I cut it out with my knife. A lot of grossness came out that I won´t detail here, but I believe I got it all and all is well...I hope.
I am sure this is only a taste of what I will experience, the good with the bad, but we must praise Him for both. I have had a lot of fun, and I have enjoyed the fellowship with the guys here. I believe in what our mission is, and to hear from the reports from the other guys´ trips I am greatly encouraged. I hope you guys are encouraged too. I have felt the strength of your prayers and memories of all of you give me much joy and peace. God is faithful, He always is.

Down a Muddy Peruvian Road

Well, this is really the first time I have had a chance to blog since I have gotten down here. I am extremely limited in all forms of communication, so I hope that mercy will be given. So here is a quick update.
I am in Puerto Maldanado, which is a small city in the far southeast corner of the country. When I came, Jeremy, the Xtreme Team Leader, was in the process of training ten guys and three girls. They had about a month of training left. So for a little over two and a half weeks I stayed with the guys in training. There were two gringos (those of American Nationality), an Equadorian, and the rest were from various indigenous tribes throughout the country. The camp was in the middle of the jungle, where we had to bathe and wash clothes in the river, cook all our food from a camp fire, and basically endure nature and all its glory. It is amazing how many things I have taken for granted.
I don´t know Spanish, which I have been quickly assimilated with the guys. I was put into a group of three guys that we shared a house (which was built out of logs cut from machetes), and cooking. None of them spoke English, so needless to say we had some interesting conversations. I just hope that in my attempt to learn the language I didn´t offend anyone too bad.
Every morning we ran and did many excercises. The first day it rained hard in the morning. The route we ran, which was four miles, seemed uphill there and back, and with the mud I had a hard time finding my balance (which proved to be a consistent theme), but obviously the Peruvians had no trouble as they smoked me. Some not even wearing shoes. Humbling.
Well, upon running down that muddy Peruvian road, rain drenching me as I tried my hardest not to fall down the hills, I smiled to think that there was no other place I rather be. God has chosen me to be here for such a time as this.
Having said that, God has really put me through the fire since I have arrived. I have been challenged so greatly in spirit. I have been attacked spiritually, physically, emotionall, and mentally. Satan has tried to put so many doubts about my abilities, or lack thereof, and just try to rob me of my joy in God´s strength. I have to always come back to the reality that God is powerful enough to take my weaknesses and turn them into something that can be used. I just have to be willing to be pruned and refined. I have been sick with a sinus infection, my skin broke out in a rash, I have never felt hunger and thirst as I did in the jungle, the heat has worn me down, all the while I am trying my best to learn a language and be of some use to the guys. It is a good thing God doesn´t call the strong or the wise, but the weak and foolish. The latter two I have proven again and again that I qualify.
In everyway God has revealed more and more weaknesses, places where I need to grow. I have died a thousand deaths here, but what is wonderful is that God has raised me to new life a thousand times.
The guys had their graduation, which I will have to go through training, which is three months long, starting on August 20. Until then I am going with Jeff, one of the guys that just got done with training, to a Chyahuita Village where we will help another guy from training raise up a team to reach other indigenous tribes nearby. I will be out for three months and come back right before training starts. Not knowing Spanish or Chyahuita, obviously I will be a little overwhelmed, but if you can pray, pray that I will excel in the languages and can be of some use to the ministry. We have to be diligent in becoming like the people we will work with. Eat like them, work like them, and pick up much of their culture so that the Gospel and the training can flow and be received well. Pray for that sensitivity.
I appreciate everyone´s support and I hope that I will be able to update this again soon, but if not it will be mid August. Just remember me, and pray that I am faithful in all that I am called to do. Especially pray for the Chyahuita in that God will do an amazing work in them. I hope to maybe add to this blog when I have more time.