Guatemalan Blessings

Midway through our time here in Guatemala, I want to lift up my voice in praise to God who allowed us to be here and who has granted so many blessings along the way.  Rather than give an account of the things we have been doing, I thought I would just list some of the blessings that have come our way.

• Celebrating sixteen years of marriage here.  Charlie found an “I Love You” card in Spanish.  I had brought one from the U.S.  Our hostess went to the trouble to prepare special meals for us, and we had a full day of ministry.  Then our host family took us out to dinner that night.  The following day the church sang a “Happy Anniversary” song to us.
• Flowers.  Instead of paying the proverbial “arm and a leg” for flowers, flowers are inexpensive here, so Charlie bought me some to celebrate.  I’m hoping to get some more while we are here.  Fresh flowers often adorn the front of the church as well.
• Village sounds.  Even now I can hear roosters crowing, dogs barking, the wind blowing through the trees, and birds singing.  The modern sounds of buses, horns, air compressors, and generators are here too.
• Mountains.  Mountains surround us here, and they are a constant reminder to me of God’s care.  “I will lift up mine eyes unto this hills.  From whence cometh my help?  My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.”  Psalm 121:1-2
• Salvation.  How often I give thanks to God for His saving power in my own life and in the life of the believers around me.  Yesterday that power to save was demonstrated once again when a 9-year-old boy asked Jesus to save him from his sins and surrendered to His control.
• A vibrant church.  This church where we are teaching is only seven years old.  It is filled with the enthusiasm of new believers and families growing together in the faith.  Seven years ago, most of them did not know Jesus, except as a name.  Today they are His followers.  The church has become a magnet for young families looking for answers because so many of the families have a very positive testimony of family harmony and closeness.
• A vital ministry.  The missionary pastor and his family are busy.  Everyday except Thursdays they have something scheduled. In the ten (or so) years they have been here, they have seen one church firmly planted and two others get started.
• Being able to serve this ministry.  During our time here Charlie has done a fair amount of teaching and preaching, and I have been teaching teachers, women, and children.  Our days are full, and we feel blessed to be able to share the things God has taught us. 
• A close look at a close-knit family.  It has been a privilege to live with the Avendaño family while we are here.  They have been gracious to us in every way.  When you live with someone for an entire month, you get to really know them, and we have been very pleased to see the closeness they have. 

I could add more, but I’ll stop here.  We are blessed!

Our First Week in Guatemala

 

“Will you be ready to teach on the Wednesday night after we arrive?” Charlie asked me about a week before we left.

“Yes,” I replied, as I put finishing touches on the lesson for that night.  Fortunately, I had been asked to do a teacher training seminar in Chicago for a Spanish church there not too long ago, so I had this lesson almost ready.

We arrived on Tuesday night, well after midnight by our morning rising time, but only a little after 10:00 local time.  The next day we sat down with our host to discuss our schedule for the time we would be there.  We found out that it was similar to their normal schedule, only they were adding a few things because we were there.

Wednesday night prayer meeting is taken seriously. Except for a brief devotional from the Bible, the rest of the time is given to prayer.  Several times during our weeks there Giovanni said to me, “We really enjoy praying together.  I know we are a small group, but that is fine because the ones who come really want to pray.”  One Sunday he told the people, “If you know there is sin in your life, I am asking that you not come on Wednesday night to prayer meeting.  Your prayers would be a waste of our time and God’s.”

Kneeling on the hard, tiled floor with heads bowed and arms resting on the seats of plastic stackable chairs, we prayed around the circle.  When it was my turn, I found it difficult to really pray as I groped for the right words in Spanish.  How I longed to pour out my heart to God the way the rest did, but as I stumbled, I was grateful that the Holy Spirit would take the requests of my heart and make them known to God.  As prayer continued around the circle, I reveled in the fervency and emotion of each person praying.  At 8:00, Giovanni dismissed those heading to my class, while the remainder would continue praying until 9:00.  As I walked toward the classroom, I knew that God had heard their prayers and would act on their behalf.  How glad I was to have this group of people praying for me and for our class as I taught. 

We began the class with nine people.  At about 8:30, another five people, whose jobs ended at 8:00 p.m., showed up.  I was encouraged by their commitment.  I taught on “Basic Questions to Ask Before Teaching.”  At the recommendation of the Avendaños, I had made 15 copies of my outline.  (The next week that was not enough, and by the fourth week, 22 people attended the class.) 

The next day was a “free” day, we were told.  Of course, I knew that on Sunday I would be teaching the ladies on “Teaching Young Children,” so I needed to spend my time getting ready.  This was brand new material for me to be teaching in Spanish.  I desperately needed large blocks of time to get ready, so I spent the morning working.

Lunch, the main meal of the day, was ready by 2:30 p.m.  We sat down to a delicious meal of stewed chicken and vegetables, rice, tortillas and limeade, made from freshly squeezed limes grown on the Avendaños’ property. 

After lunch, as it was considered a free day, we took the Toyota station wagon into San Juan Sacatepéquez, the nearby city.   Charlie was looking for an anniversary card for me, and he eventually found an “I love you” card that fit the bill.  Barbara needed some supplies for home school and for the children’s ministry.  They also wanted to buy flowers for a church member who had just suffered a miscarriage.  I was intrigued by the market, especially the flower vendors who had stacks of flowers to sell.

We made our purchases and left for Laura’s house.  She was in bed recuperating.  The doctor had told her she would need a week of rest, but it was her emotions, even more than her body, that would need recuperation as she mourned the loss of her child.  The flowers were lovely, but she barely noticed them.  After talking with her and kneeling around her bedside to pray for her, we left and returned home.

As soon as we returned home, Barbara left to take her very sick mother-in-law to the hospital.  Later that evening, Giovanni headed out to disciple a new couple in the church, so we stayed with their three delightful children while they were gone.  When they both returned home, we enjoyed a light supper and then retired to our room where I resumed studying.

The next day dawned bright and clear.  The only thing on the agenda for that day was the evening service at church.  That allowed me more time to work on my lesson for Sunday.  Both of us worked since Charlie would be preaching that night.

On Saturday, there was a men’s meeting in the morning and a teen meeting in the afternoon.  Charlie spoke at both.

On Sunday, I taught my class on teaching little ones to the ladies, and Charlie taught the men’s class.  Giovanni preached that morning.  In the afternoon at 4:30, Charlie preached at the service in the new church plant. 

On Monday morning I was back to studying because my lesson for Wednesday night would be a new one.  Not only was it material I had not taught since before I was married, but I also needed to do it in Spanish.  I would need lots of hours to prepare.  Charlie headed out with Giovanni and Otilio, one of the men from the church, to buy boots.  He had heard they were inexpensive there, and Otilio wanted to buy him a pair.  He returned with a beautiful pair of brown boots which had cost about $39.  The same boots in the US would have cost about $150.

Tuesday night was Charlie’s night to teach.  Bible institute started at 8:00 and went until 10:00.  By this time, however, Giovanni had become quite ill and there was no one to translate for Charlie.  Although my Spanish is hardly adequate, I was the only one available.  So with the help of a dictionary and lots of patience on Charlie’s part, we muddled through.

When we went to bed that night, I said to Charlie, “It’s hard to believe we’ve only been here a week.  It seems like a lot longer than that.”  It felt like the longest week we’d had in a long time.  Now that we knew the schedule, though, it would be easier.   

I had to admire Giovanni.  Yes, this was a more intense week for him because of illness (both his and his parents), but this is not much different from normal.  Every week, he prepares for all his meetings and he disciples three different couples.  He has three churches he is trying to lead, one of which is strong and healthy.  The other two are still in their infancy.  He is also the regional director for IPM, so missionaries in other countries report to him.  He has his aging parents living nearby, and he has a young family to take care of as well.   

Barbara, too, amazed me.  She is an excellent children’s teacher.  Every week she was teaching children’s Sunday School and she traded with another woman to do children’s church during the afternoon service.  There is also children’s club twice a month, and she directs that. She also directs the women’s ministry.  In addition, she is an always-ready hostess.  Several times people showed up at mealtimes.  We added plates, scooted chairs closer, and she served them with a heartfelt welcome. People come to her for prayer and counsel.  And, of course, the work at home takes up much of her time.

It was a huge blessing to be in Guatemala.  We look forward to future visits, and now we have a better idea of what a week will hold.

Similarities Between Three Nations

 

Mexico, Guatemala and the Dominican Republic. How are these three nations alike? Here are some interesting features that unite them.

First, they are united by a common language. They all speak Spanish. Yet that is like saying that the Australians, Brits, Indians, and North Americans all speak English. Yes, it is the same language, but the accent and many of the idioms and expressions make them quite different.  

A group of believers in the Dominican Republic

On our first visit to the Dominican Republic, I was lost.  I had been out of Latin America long enough that my Spanish was very rusty.  Added to that difficulty, the Dominicans blend their words together and speak rapidly.  When I was surrounded by the locals, I understood very little.  Mexico, on the other hand, was the easiest for us.  Was that because we've become more accustomed in the last couple years?  Perhaps.  But I think it's also because I hear more Mexican Spanish spoken here in the US than I do the other accents.

Second, they are all in the Western Hemisphere.  This is helpful to us since it does not cost as much for us to travel to these nations as it does to those on the opposite side of the world.  We can make two or three trips for the cost of one trip to Asia.

Third, we hope to visit all three of these countries this year, and in all three of these nations, IPM's missionaries are church planters.

Morning service in Cuernavaca, Mexico

We were privileged to visit Cuernavaca, Mexico, for the first time this year and see the church plant that Sergio and Alejandra Herrera have planted there.  As you see from the previous post, we were quite impressed by that church.  When they came together, they were excited to be there.  At night, the pastor had to shut the lights out in order to get them to leave.  On Sundays, they spent almost the entire day together.  Eagerness abounds in learning new things about God and in sharing those truths with others.  Although they will miss the Herreras when they return to their homeland of Chile, they are looking forward to the process of becoming completely independent.  

Teaching the children in Guatemala

In just a few days, we will be heading out to spend a month in a little town called Cerro Alto, about two hours outside of Guatemala City.  There we will be working with Giovanni and Barbara Avendano.  Giovanni is a Guatemalan who came to know Christ while he lived in California.  He has gone back to the town of his birth where he planted a church.  That church is vibrant and strong.  On a typical Sunday morning, there are over one hundred people there.  We know we will be involved in multiple ministries while we are there:  teaching teachers, training leaders, preaching and teaching on Sunday and Wednesday, and anything else the Avendanos need from us. 

Giovanni has a deep desire for his people to know Christ, so one church plant is just not enough.  When we were there, he had begun meetings in another town nearby.  A smaller group of about 30 were meeting there.  Then, sometime during the last two years, He has begun church plants in another nearby location.  His desire, like that of Paul’s, is that all men would come to know the truth.   

Students taking a quiz in the Bible institute

In October, we hope to head to the Dominican Republic to work with Enrique and Solanlly Mejia.  They have also started a church.  One difference with Enrique Mejia, however, is that he also has a thriving Bible institute where pastors and future pastors gather from all over the island to increase their knowledge and ability to use the Word of God effectively in their ministry.  

Fourth, our ministry will be in Spanish.  I will do all of my teaching in Spanish.  Over the past couple years, I have become much more comfortable doing this, but I still feel very inadequate.  I would greatly appreciate prayers for fluency, especially since I am often teaching new material every time I go.  

Preaching through a translator

Charlie teaches through a translator.  In Mexico, the translator that was available had never translated before.  His command of English was good, but translating in front of a group of people, some of whom also have an adequate command of English, was intimidating.  In the Dominican Republic and in Guatemala, the missionary men themselves do the translating.  Their command of English is excellent, and they do a great job of translating.

We are looking forward to the next month in Mexico.  There is still much to be done before we leave, but we are eager to go.

When I Grow Up . . . .

 I still remember the childhood dreams, the convoluted streams of desire to be someone important and someone loved.  They usually revolved around people I admired.

“When I grow up, I want to be a nurse like Aunt Pat,” I’d announce with doll in hand, tenderly wrapping a 'broken' leg or applying a bandage.  Aunt Pat was a single woman who lived alone and worked in the highlands of Irian Jaya (now called Papua), the island where I grew up.  I saw her only occasionally, but I was enthralled.  I watched her clean and treat wounds with the caring efficiency of a nurse who loved her patients.  I saw her gather children around her and teach them songs about Jesus.  I’d seen her sit in a circle of native highlanders, talking about the day and eating roasted sweet potatoes.  She let me help her write down weather data, checking the rain gauge and thermometer and carefully recording them in her weather book. Yes, I thought, I want to be a nurse like Aunt Pat and work with people who don’t have doctors and hospitals.

“When I grow up, I want to be a pilot like Miss Greene,” I said later when I saw her touch the Cessna seaplane down on the water and climb from the cockpit onto the floats of the plane and nimbly jump onto the pier.  She was the only woman pilot I had ever seen.  I had heard the stories of her flying planes over the Burmese pass during the war.  I learned much later that she had helped start Missionary Aviation Fellowship, the group that flew all of us missionaries around the country.  Yes, I thought, it would be great to be able to take missionaries from their remote stations to mission conferences, just like Miss Betty Greene.

Most of the time, though, my main thought was, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Mom.”  Missionary, home-school teacher, Bible storyteller extraordinaire, devoted mother to me and my siblings, and loving wife to my dad.  With a song on her lips and tenderness in her touch, she made my ever-changing world a secure place to live.  She had five (and then six) children, so I would have five or six children.^*  She sang while she worked, so I sang while I played.  She worked hard from morning till night, so I learned that adulthood meant hard work. I ‘helped’ make bread, and she gave me permission to try out my own cooking skills by making ‘mixtures’.  (These were usually never baked since they tasted so good as a mixture of ingredients.)  She let my little brothers and I draw chalk roads on the concrete floors as we drove our toy cars from room to room.  She even warned us when floor washing day was coming up so that we knew that all the roads would disappear.  She taught me to set a correct table and how to properly clean the kitchen.  She taught me the basics of running a household – how to cook, bake bread, clean, manage money, and sew, skills I knew I would need to be the very best mother I could be.

I learned much about appreciating beauty from her.  “Come look at the sky!” she called on many evenings when afternoon sun lengthened the shadows and transformed the sky into dazzling colors.  It was as though the earth had draped a bright Mexican blanket around herself before the cool night air whispered through the trees.  Together we’d talk about the varying shades of pink, orange and purple and the amazing God we serve who was not only powerful but who loved beauty.  Or we’d drive down the road and turn the corner and she would exclaim, “Oh, how beautiful!” as we caught a glimpse of the swiftly changing vista before us.
One day while they were on furlough in New York, after years of working in the crowded, grey cement jungles of metro Manila, I found her sitting on the back porch of my uncle’s house. 

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m drinking in the beauty,” she replied as she stared at the expanse of green yard dipping down to the trickling creek.  I sat down beside her and let my eyes relax with the view of bright green fading into the dark green of the trees and listened to the birds calling to each other.  I don’t know how long we sat there, but our spirits were revived by the beauty around us.  “I feel like my soul is starved for beauty,” she told me.  At the time, I didn't understand it, until I too began years of working in a grey cement jungle.

Most importantly, she taught me what it was to follow the Savior.  One morning very early, I was the first to rise, or so I thought.  I found her kneeling at the rattan couch in our little living room.  I walked up next to her and knelt beside her.  She wrapped her arm around me, finished her prayer time and gave me a kiss and a squeeze. “Let’s go get breakfast on the table, shall we?” she said, as we arose together and headed into the kitchen where I set the table while she cooked.

I learned from her that following Jesus was a life of peace and joy.  Even during the hard times, when tears cruised their way down her soft cheeks, the peace was still there.  After the tears were gone, a smile broke forth and once again she started singing songs of praise to the Savior.  When Dad was suddenly taken from us and accused of being a CIA spy and thrown into an Indonesian prison cell, everyone around her remarked on her peacefulness.  I still saw her smile.  I still heard her sing.  I still saw her pray and praise God for His faithfulness.

The years have passed.  Time has a way of compressing the passing years into important memories.  For me, some of the sweetest memories of my life are those of my mom.  She has continued, throughout the years, to be an example to me.  So even though I’m pushing 60 now, I still look at my mother and say, “Mom, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

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*Child #7 was adopted after I became an adult, so that number did not enter into my childhood dreams.

After Mexico

We are seated in the airport in Mexico City, waiting for our flight back to the U.S.  It has been a full week, but we feel blessed to have been a part of the life and work of our coworkers, Sergio and Alejandra Herrera and their family.  Sergio and his family, Chilean nationals, moved to Cuernavaca, Mexico, eleven years ago to plant a church.  We were witnessing a miracle of changed lives over the past decade.

We left the house on April 24 at 6:00 a.m. and arrived in Mexico City in the afternoon. Sergio met us and after a snack, we boarded a bus for a two hour ride, arriving at the home of our hosts at about 7:30 p.m. They had a meeting at church, so they left us in the house and headed out while we unpacked.

Friday morning and afternoon I studied while Charlie went to the church to help with construction.  Then on Friday night, we headed to church where I taught a class on “Training Warriors.”  In the meantime, Charlie hung out with the men and was present when Brother Sergio led a man to Christ.  On Saturday, we returned to church where I taught once again.  This time the subject was “Creating a Bible Lesson from Scratch.” 

After supper (at about 4:00 p.m.) we rested briefly and returned to church again that night.  The evening was for married couples, and Charlie taught on marriage with the help of Armando, a young man who translated for him.  It was his first time to translate.

On Sunday morning Charlie and I both taught Sunday School.  He taught the teens and adults and I taught the children.  When it was time for him to start teaching, Armando had not yet arrived, so the pastor’s daughter, Priscilla, was recruited to translate for him.  It was a good thing.  Had she been asked, she would have refused because she did not feel ready.  But since no one else was available, she did it. 

Right after Sunday School, it was time for lunch.  The families of the church take turns bringing lunch for everyone else.  After lunch, it was time for the main service. 

At the request of the Herrera’s, we brought Bibles.  Thanks to the generosity of the children of West Hampden Baptist Church and BEAMS, we loaded 56 Bibles into our luggage.  Sergio asked all of those who did not have a Bible to come forward, and we were surprised by how many came.  What a blessing it was to see them receive something essential for their spiritual growth.  (Charlie figured it out.  In the US, on minimum wage, it would take about two hours to have enough money to buy a good Bible.  In Mexico, it would take 2-3 days.)  In addition, we took a small Betty Lukens flannelgraph set as a gift for the church. This was purchased from moneys raised by the children of West Hampden Baptist Church at their Vacation Bible School last year.  Charlie preached that afternoon on “He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water.”  By this time, Armando had arrived and was ready to work.

On Monday, Brother Sergio took us and two men from the church to a town nearby that had a small pyramid on top of a hill.  We climbed the hill, took in the view and returned to Cuernavaca for supper.  That night, Charlie taught on the role of the deacon.  At the end, Charlie asked for questions and several questions were asked for clarification.  Then one of them said, “We don’t have a lot of questions yet because this is all new to us.”

We have been so blessed to have person after person tell us how our teaching helped them.  Several of them asked when we would return.  “When we are invited,” we responded.

And now we’re headed home again.  We look forward to being there again when the rest of the building is finished and that part is also filling up.