Prayer Request
Ed has been asked to preach at the church he is working with in Honduras while the pastor is away. Ed asked me to pass along this prayer request for the meeting on Sunday.
posted by Eric Stephens at 23:04
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Letter from Karen
Dear friends and family,
Stay tuned to hear from the girls. It’s a challenge for them to find time to write for the website as they are on the laptops for MANY hours a day doing their home schooling. It’s a much more rigorous program than we anticipated. Also, they are so accustom to life here now, they feel they have very little to say that their father or I haven’t already said.
First, some discouraging news. Last Sunday we were away from the house all day. When we returned, we noticed that someone had stolen our back porch light bulb. Just last night, the dog that lives across from our house started barking in the middle of the night. Ed got up to check it out. I then heard footsteps by our bedroom window. I thought it was Ed walking around the house. He eventually got me up because he wanted to go outside and look around the exterior of the house. I told him I thought he already had. I convinced him to not go out, and we eventually went back to sleep. We woke up to an empty front porch where a (very used) hammock used to be, and out back, a disgusting long handled brush (that came with the house) was gone. Whoever took these things certainly was desperate, or thought we were displaying them for their perusal. Ed spoke with our landlady this morning. She firmly believes the thieves are Moskito children, and the best deterrent is to keep our outdoor lights on all night (except the electricity goes off between 3-9am).
On a much more serious note, the Griggs’ next door neighbor was murdered in his taxi (a small pick-up truck), out of town quite a ways in a remote location. No one knows for sure whom or why, but there is many rumors. We new something had happened, because that same evening we walked to the Griggs home after church (Ed had wanted to see the end of the World Series). There was a substantial crowd of people outside a home. When we arrived at the Griggs, Laurel had been crying. They had been neighbors with this man and his family for 5 years. The crowd we saw, they explained, would stick around, until the body is buried. The authorities had brought the body to the hospital, where it will lay on ice until the burial. Laurel said it sounds morbid, but a way to extend help to the family at this time is to offer ice for the deceased. Ray said that the caskets are made of wood, with a glass opening over their face. He said you could see the persons head surrounded with the packed ice. The Griggs also told us, traditionally, the mourners sing in the streets the whole night before the burial, to ward off evil spirits. Please continue to pray for our safety. Even though we don’t fear, wisdom dictates we remain vigilant (Prov. 22:3 & Prov. 14:16).
The Sunday we were away all day, we road in the back of a truck to a ranch a few miles from town. The landscape outside of town looks just like the pictures I’ve seen of the savannahs in Africa. I asked Ed if that was accurate, having lived in Africa, and he said yes.
The plan for Sunday was to have a day of study sessions for new believers on the foundational doctrines of Christianity from the Bible. Ed was one of the teachers. We had a wonderful time except for the chiggers that devoured Ed and my midsections. The girls were spared because they were either in a hammock under a pavilion or in the water swimming most of the day. We weren’t totally aware of the bugs´ effect until the next morning.
Chiggers are an extremely small (could sit on a pin point) insect that jump from the grass and look for a snug area, like under a waistband, to feast. They then burrow into the skin. You scratch it and that pushes them in further. They eventually die and scab over. Once you start itching them you’re done for. Sleep is difficult. The locals believe Vicks is a cure all (it smothers the insect). We haven’t had to buy any yet as the Griggs gave us some CHIGGERX from the states. They are very familiar with them, having come from Texas. Supposedly, this is the worst time of year for them. The only preventative measure you can take is to stay off the grass.
On the way home from the ranch, it was a beautiful moonlit night. I realized for the first time how unfamiliar the stars look in this part of the world. No familiar dippers or northern star. Ray said they are visible, but are so close to the horizon; the trees are in the way.
Do any of you remember about 30 to 35 years ago a kid’s toy called (I think) “clackers”? It was two balls (acrylic or plastic) on either end of a piece of string that you swing up and down so the balls clack above your hand then below. It’s all the rage here. The kids play with them as they walk to school. A flash from the past. The only difference is that these here are made from wood.
On Wednesday, the 27th, Ed and I went to speak with the 9th grade class again. After we left last time the KIDS asked that we please come again. The Director asked that we speak with another class. We’re scheduled to go twice a week until they break. I’m not sure when that will be. All the other schools break from Nov. to mid Feb., but this particular school will stay in session, as the teachers were on strike earlier this year, and so now the have to make up that time.
On Thursday, Ed went to the military installation down the road to teach the soldiers from the Word of God. The Commander made all the soldiers attend. Ed taught from the book of John chapter 1. When he was done, they applauded and asked if he would come twice instead of just once a week from now on. Wow! The Lord continues to amaze us with the openness of the people and the multitude of opportunities to reach out to the lost. Please pray there is fruit that remains. We’re trying to stay focused on that which will directly further the Kingdom.
Yesterday we went to the hospital to visit a sister from church. By the time we got there she had already been discharged. Not having a phone has a few disadvantages (but not many!) While we were there we decided to walk around to see how the Lord might lead. We prayed with a dying young woman (probably an AIDS victim), and a few babies and their mothers. Two women came to Christ. One of them only spoke the Moskito language well. Just when Ed started to try to share with her the greatness of the gospel, another visitor walked in to visit a patient and spontaneously started translating. This visitor is also the one who asked us to please come and pray with the dying woman. We spotted a little boy sitting all by himself on a bench hooked up to an I.V. He said his mom was at work and he had come to the hospital because he had fallen off his hammock. It seems giving an I.V. to everyone that comes for medical help is S.O.P.
Last night, Katrina brought a woman who’s visiting her, to our house so we could meet her. She’s a N. American who has served with Mother Theresa in India and also in Nepal as a nurse. What’s amazing is that she knows Ed’s high school classmate Keith Leslie who runs Save the Children in Katmandu, Nepal. It certainly is a small world.
We hope and pray all is well with everyone. Please e-mail us if you have time at livingwatersca@gmn-usa.com. We’d LOVE to hear from you and hear about what is happening in your lives.
“As cold water to a weary soul, so is good news from a far country.”
Prov. 25:25
Take care, and may the Lord bless you with more of His truth,
Love,
Karen and family
Stay tuned to hear from the girls. It’s a challenge for them to find time to write for the website as they are on the laptops for MANY hours a day doing their home schooling. It’s a much more rigorous program than we anticipated. Also, they are so accustom to life here now, they feel they have very little to say that their father or I haven’t already said.
First, some discouraging news. Last Sunday we were away from the house all day. When we returned, we noticed that someone had stolen our back porch light bulb. Just last night, the dog that lives across from our house started barking in the middle of the night. Ed got up to check it out. I then heard footsteps by our bedroom window. I thought it was Ed walking around the house. He eventually got me up because he wanted to go outside and look around the exterior of the house. I told him I thought he already had. I convinced him to not go out, and we eventually went back to sleep. We woke up to an empty front porch where a (very used) hammock used to be, and out back, a disgusting long handled brush (that came with the house) was gone. Whoever took these things certainly was desperate, or thought we were displaying them for their perusal. Ed spoke with our landlady this morning. She firmly believes the thieves are Moskito children, and the best deterrent is to keep our outdoor lights on all night (except the electricity goes off between 3-9am).
On a much more serious note, the Griggs’ next door neighbor was murdered in his taxi (a small pick-up truck), out of town quite a ways in a remote location. No one knows for sure whom or why, but there is many rumors. We new something had happened, because that same evening we walked to the Griggs home after church (Ed had wanted to see the end of the World Series). There was a substantial crowd of people outside a home. When we arrived at the Griggs, Laurel had been crying. They had been neighbors with this man and his family for 5 years. The crowd we saw, they explained, would stick around, until the body is buried. The authorities had brought the body to the hospital, where it will lay on ice until the burial. Laurel said it sounds morbid, but a way to extend help to the family at this time is to offer ice for the deceased. Ray said that the caskets are made of wood, with a glass opening over their face. He said you could see the persons head surrounded with the packed ice. The Griggs also told us, traditionally, the mourners sing in the streets the whole night before the burial, to ward off evil spirits. Please continue to pray for our safety. Even though we don’t fear, wisdom dictates we remain vigilant (Prov. 22:3 & Prov. 14:16).
The Sunday we were away all day, we road in the back of a truck to a ranch a few miles from town. The landscape outside of town looks just like the pictures I’ve seen of the savannahs in Africa. I asked Ed if that was accurate, having lived in Africa, and he said yes.
The plan for Sunday was to have a day of study sessions for new believers on the foundational doctrines of Christianity from the Bible. Ed was one of the teachers. We had a wonderful time except for the chiggers that devoured Ed and my midsections. The girls were spared because they were either in a hammock under a pavilion or in the water swimming most of the day. We weren’t totally aware of the bugs´ effect until the next morning.
Chiggers are an extremely small (could sit on a pin point) insect that jump from the grass and look for a snug area, like under a waistband, to feast. They then burrow into the skin. You scratch it and that pushes them in further. They eventually die and scab over. Once you start itching them you’re done for. Sleep is difficult. The locals believe Vicks is a cure all (it smothers the insect). We haven’t had to buy any yet as the Griggs gave us some CHIGGERX from the states. They are very familiar with them, having come from Texas. Supposedly, this is the worst time of year for them. The only preventative measure you can take is to stay off the grass.
On the way home from the ranch, it was a beautiful moonlit night. I realized for the first time how unfamiliar the stars look in this part of the world. No familiar dippers or northern star. Ray said they are visible, but are so close to the horizon; the trees are in the way.
Do any of you remember about 30 to 35 years ago a kid’s toy called (I think) “clackers”? It was two balls (acrylic or plastic) on either end of a piece of string that you swing up and down so the balls clack above your hand then below. It’s all the rage here. The kids play with them as they walk to school. A flash from the past. The only difference is that these here are made from wood.
On Wednesday, the 27th, Ed and I went to speak with the 9th grade class again. After we left last time the KIDS asked that we please come again. The Director asked that we speak with another class. We’re scheduled to go twice a week until they break. I’m not sure when that will be. All the other schools break from Nov. to mid Feb., but this particular school will stay in session, as the teachers were on strike earlier this year, and so now the have to make up that time.
On Thursday, Ed went to the military installation down the road to teach the soldiers from the Word of God. The Commander made all the soldiers attend. Ed taught from the book of John chapter 1. When he was done, they applauded and asked if he would come twice instead of just once a week from now on. Wow! The Lord continues to amaze us with the openness of the people and the multitude of opportunities to reach out to the lost. Please pray there is fruit that remains. We’re trying to stay focused on that which will directly further the Kingdom.
Yesterday we went to the hospital to visit a sister from church. By the time we got there she had already been discharged. Not having a phone has a few disadvantages (but not many!) While we were there we decided to walk around to see how the Lord might lead. We prayed with a dying young woman (probably an AIDS victim), and a few babies and their mothers. Two women came to Christ. One of them only spoke the Moskito language well. Just when Ed started to try to share with her the greatness of the gospel, another visitor walked in to visit a patient and spontaneously started translating. This visitor is also the one who asked us to please come and pray with the dying woman. We spotted a little boy sitting all by himself on a bench hooked up to an I.V. He said his mom was at work and he had come to the hospital because he had fallen off his hammock. It seems giving an I.V. to everyone that comes for medical help is S.O.P.
Last night, Katrina brought a woman who’s visiting her, to our house so we could meet her. She’s a N. American who has served with Mother Theresa in India and also in Nepal as a nurse. What’s amazing is that she knows Ed’s high school classmate Keith Leslie who runs Save the Children in Katmandu, Nepal. It certainly is a small world.
We hope and pray all is well with everyone. Please e-mail us if you have time at livingwatersca@gmn-usa.com. We’d LOVE to hear from you and hear about what is happening in your lives.
“As cold water to a weary soul, so is good news from a far country.”
Prov. 25:25
Take care, and may the Lord bless you with more of His truth,
Love,
Karen and family
posted by Eric Stephens at 22:53
Monday, October 25, 2004
Update on Contacting the Eagans
This is an update from Ed regarding contacting him and his family. Also - please review the contact link for new contact information.
What everyone needs to know is that I NEVER have the satellite phone turned on. Why not? Because it constantly makes an annoying noise as it acquires then looses the signal from the satellite. If I know when someone is going to call, I could be waiting with it on. Of course there’s no telling if the call will get through as that is a function of the atmospheric conditions at the time.
What everyone needs to know is that I NEVER have the satellite phone turned on. Why not? Because it constantly makes an annoying noise as it acquires then looses the signal from the satellite. If I know when someone is going to call, I could be waiting with it on. Of course there’s no telling if the call will get through as that is a function of the atmospheric conditions at the time.
posted by Eric Stephens at 20:22
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Weblog Updates
I made a small change to the weblog (blog) to include frequently accessed information available towards the top of the page. Its listed under the "Useful Information" heading on the right side.
You may also notice a new heading on the right called "Keep Informed". I invite you to read the article and employ one of the many (often free) RSS readers. This may help you stay up-to-date with regards to content on this blog. I'm usually good about emailing everyone when I make updates but sometimes I can forget. If you would like some assistance with setting up an RSS reader, please email me and I'll try to help the best I can.
IHMS, Eric
You may also notice a new heading on the right called "Keep Informed". I invite you to read the article and employ one of the many (often free) RSS readers. This may help you stay up-to-date with regards to content on this blog. I'm usually good about emailing everyone when I make updates but sometimes I can forget. If you would like some assistance with setting up an RSS reader, please email me and I'll try to help the best I can.
IHMS, Eric
posted by Eric Stephens at 20:36
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Prayer Requests
Sorry this is late...
[Last Friday] when I arrived at Pastor David’s office a young 14 year-old girl was there, a sister from the church, asking him if he could come to her classroom that afternoon to share God’s word. She is concerned because so many of her 24 classmates are addicted to drugs. He said with such little notice it was not possible but he would love to go another day. She said they had a free period late in the day this coming Monday, October 18th. I told David I would volunteer Karen to speak given her background with drugs. He’ll accompany us as will a 15 year-old girl from the church choir who was delivered from drugs. Just now while I was dropping off Bethany and Michaela (they help teach music classes at church), Pastor David said the girl had returned with her Mom after school to say the Director of the school had given her permission for us to speak on Monday [18 October 2004]. Please pray for that meeting which will begin at 6:20pm your time (4:20pm here). I was very blessed to see a young Christian girl with such a heavy burden for her friends. Please join us as we pray for deliverance, salvation and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit as we testify to God’s mercy and power.
Pastor David and I met yesterday [13 October 2004] on my porch. For the second time we discussed the possibility of starting a Christian radio station here. Radio would be one of the most cost-effective methods of consistently presenting the Gospel to the lost Miskito Indians scattered throughout this remote region. Pray the Lord would give us wisdom from above in this matter and that His will would be done here according to His timetable.
[Last Friday] when I arrived at Pastor David’s office a young 14 year-old girl was there, a sister from the church, asking him if he could come to her classroom that afternoon to share God’s word. She is concerned because so many of her 24 classmates are addicted to drugs. He said with such little notice it was not possible but he would love to go another day. She said they had a free period late in the day this coming Monday, October 18th. I told David I would volunteer Karen to speak given her background with drugs. He’ll accompany us as will a 15 year-old girl from the church choir who was delivered from drugs. Just now while I was dropping off Bethany and Michaela (they help teach music classes at church), Pastor David said the girl had returned with her Mom after school to say the Director of the school had given her permission for us to speak on Monday [18 October 2004]. Please pray for that meeting which will begin at 6:20pm your time (4:20pm here). I was very blessed to see a young Christian girl with such a heavy burden for her friends. Please join us as we pray for deliverance, salvation and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit as we testify to God’s mercy and power.
Pastor David and I met yesterday [13 October 2004] on my porch. For the second time we discussed the possibility of starting a Christian radio station here. Radio would be one of the most cost-effective methods of consistently presenting the Gospel to the lost Miskito Indians scattered throughout this remote region. Pray the Lord would give us wisdom from above in this matter and that His will would be done here according to His timetable.
posted by Eric Stephens at 23:31
Welcome to La Mosquitia
Cocotá. The name delights the tongue. A coconut tree bends out over the waters of the lagoon. Cocoa-skinned boys race up its bark as if it were a broad sidewalk. As they near the part of the tree slanting heavenward, they drop to their knees and shimmy the rest of the way. When they’ve reached the branches, they grab the dead ones, swing out over the water and plunge some twenty feet into the warm waters below. In the midst of the brown bodies is a freckled-faced, all-American boy named Christian. Part monkey, part Tarzan, he swings out over the water with his legs pedaling an imaginary bicycle, arms flailing, he drops into the midst of screaming Miskito children. Drenched with the sweat of a long day, and fatigued by the oppressive heat, their fun-filled shrieks prove an irresistible magnet to us. Katrina plunges in fully clothed with Michaela right behind. Roger strips to his underwear and creates a mini-tidal wave as all 250lbs of him hit the water simultaneously. I follow his lead.
We’ve spent this glorious day in the company of four newly arrived Americans. Betty, an eighty-year old retired pathologist on her 20th trip to Honduras and the financier of many of the missionary projects out here, Dan, who just retired as a pharmacist, Beverly, a nurse with a non-stop smile and Vial, the Missions Director at the Baptist church in Alabama they all attend. A fifth person, Nephtali, is a bi-lingual doctor from Guatemala who befriended Betty twenty years ago while studying English in the U.S. All five have traveled throughout the world together on short-term medical missions. They work quickly and efficiently like a well-oiled machine. As the multitudes learn there are doctors in the village, they throng to the school where the clinic is held. Already filled with school children, and isolated in the middle of a field unprotected from the blazing sun, the place is soon converted into an oven. Gabrielle eventually succumbs to the heat nearly fainting before being rescued by her Mother and Beverly. I react angrily clearing everyone off the porch where they are pressed together in a rush to see a doctor. The odor of sweating bodies is anything but pleasant. The stench of illness lingers on the air. For a moment the illogical thought crosses my mind that I could get sick just standing here guarding the door to the clinic. Just when I too feel faint, Katrina tells me that Karen and the girls have returned to the waterfront to eat lunch. My left ear pops during the 15-minute walk. Normally this only happens when I’m mountain climbing. For the first time it occurs to me that perhaps the phenomenon is related to oxygen deprivation. I collapse next to the girls when I reach the beach, too hot to even think about eating.
We arrived at the missionary complex early this morning. A couple of years ago Tom Brian placed two construction site-type trailers side by side under a massive tin roof. One serves as his dental clinic when he visits once a month. The other serves as a dormitory. About 30 yards away is a two-story house. This was the home of Baptist missionary. He divorced his wife after running off with a Miskito girl. It turns out he was working for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency and was only fronting as a missionary. The upstairs of the house reminds Karen of a cottage at the St. Lawrence. It’s made entirely out of wood with a tall ceiling, one large open room off of which are a couple of bedrooms each with a full shower. In this land of voracious termites, it’s shocking. A couple of hundred yards away is a row of trees. Roger’s boat is “docked” in the shade of a massive mango tree on a creek about six feet wide. We follow this serpentine creek for about 10 minutes before reaching the lagoon. Along the way we pass young boys swimming naked in the rust-colored waters. We actually collide with a dugout canoe coming the other way after our engine stalls. The frightened girl in the dugout watches helplessly unable to steer clear since her canoe is filled to the waterline with sand. Parents send their children out to the entrance of the lagoon to fill their dugouts with sand to be sold at a profit. The kids are in no hurry. At the entrance to the lagoon, Roger turns off the motor, raises it and jumps into the water. He guides us over the sandbar.
With 14 people aboard, plus all their gear, the 65 hp Evinrude outboard struggles to reach 25 mph. The breeze fights to cool us from what is already a blazing sun. From the perspective of the water, the shoreline is gorgeous. We alternate between wide-open expanses of lagoon and narrow passageways that meander through the mangroves. We spot brilliant water lilies, white herons and high above us soaring on the thermals, vultures. At one point I pinch myself since the view is so reminiscent of the eastern end of Carleton Island on the St. Lawrence. The only item missing is the silo next to the abandoned farm. Instead of a silo, here we see a lone thatched roof hut—some Miskito’s idea of escaping the maddening crowd. A large splash on the water reminds us we’re traversing some world-class fishing holes. Although many have promised, so far no one has actually taken us fishing. Alas, we’ve been way too busy. At the end of the day Gabrielle, with her winning smile, says, “Dad why don’t we come back out here some day for a picnic?” Good idea!
After about an hour we arrive at Cocotá. The setting is idyllic. Women in brightly colored shirts wash clothes beneath the coconut palms on the shoreline. We beach our boat next to a recently finished dugout canoe. The wood is bright red. It’s at least 25’ long. The bow and stern are identical-squared off tips gently following a curve of about three feet in length. Wood chips litter the area. It looks like it weighs 2,000 pounds. When I attempt to lift one end it doesn’t even budge. From my high school physics class I recall the formula for momentum: p=mv (mass times velocity). Once you get this thing moving, it won’t take much effort to keep it going. It glides through the water like a freighter. I’ve never seen one rocking from side to side. As I study its shape I try to imagine a family of 6 plus all their belongings heading to town in this. It’s about 2.5 feet deep on the inside. Near both ends, three narrow vertical slits have been carved into each side of the boat directly opposite each other. Since I have yet to see these in use, I’m puzzled. Perhaps they house cross beams that can then be used to support an additional layer of goods resting on wooden shelves. Maybe they’re used when they’re out fishing. It crosses my mind that this design hasn’t changed much in a thousand years.
Katrina shouts hello in Miskito to the wash ladies. Her bubbly personality and winning smile endear her to all. She spent her first four years living as a nanny with an American missionary family in a village just like this. When she returned with her husband Roger and their two boys, they spent a couple of years living in the rainforest. In other words, she’s totally at ease here and the people sense it. She announces in Miskito that the doctors have arrived and will be holding a clinic up at the school. She adds that we’ll be sharing the gospel. We haul our goods 15 minutes up a footpath. At the rise of the hill, we look out across a narrow valley to see the two-room school across the way. I’m bringing up the rear along with the pharmacist and the Guatemalan. We stop at what appears to be a brand-new well. Its design is puzzling at first since there is no handle. I ask the owner to come show us how it works. He lifts the entire pipe up and down. It’s the Italian aid group GVC’s work. Nearby is a plastic latrine resting over a newly dug hole. The aluminum sided shed designed to go over the top sits on the ground beside it. Either the project isn’t finished or modesty is not a high priority here. When an elder lady passing by lifts up her shirt to scratch herself exposing her breasts, my question is answered.
Once the medical personnel begin to see patients, Katrina announces the start of the skit. She’s brought along a whole array of Bible figures and scenery that can be easily interchanged on a felt-board background. The felt figures cling to the felt blackboard. Katrina’s Miskito is excellent, aided by her contagious enthusiasm and animated gestures. She starts off by leading the children through well-known Christian songs. They join in enthusiastically. The student’s eyes are riveted on her as she explains the Gospel beginning with Adam and Eve. She spends a good deal of time on the crucifixion and heaven. She removes her wedding band explaining the streets in heaven will be paved with gold. The kids look incredulous. With bowed heads, she leads the students through the sinner’s prayer. Later we learn there are four active Christian churches in this large village. Perhaps some fruit will be borne of this day. Only God knows.
Katrina asks me to lead the afternoon classes through the same exercise. By the time I do, all of us are drained of energy. I ask the Lord to pour out His Spirit since I don’t have the physical strength to do anything. About halfway through I realize how important it is for an evangelist in these parts to speak fluent Miskito. The teacher understands me perfectly and appears to be moved. As I pack up to leave, he’s reviewing the lesson I shared but in Miskito. “Lord may your word not return to You void,” is my prayer.
Next door, the females break for lunch. I offer to return to the boat to fill their depleted water bottles. When I arrive at the boat, I find it unguarded. Roger had hired a man to guard it during our absence. More experienced missionaries have told us that anything and everything in this culture is considered fair game if left unattended. They figure if you’re not around and you leave things lying around, you don’t really want them. Things like ripe watermelons, tools, wash buckets, money and outboard motors. I scurry back to the school and inform Roger of the situation. He orders me back to the boat on the double. When I return, I quickly change into my swimsuit, walk into the water and sit down. It takes about 15 minutes for me to cool down. As I wait, a couple of hundred minnows surround me and begin to nibble on my skin. Cooling off is worth this distraction, believe me.
When everyone returns from the school, Katrina walks right into the water fully clothed. Michaela follows suit. Even my modest wife walks in up to her shorts! There’s quite a commotion just before we push off to leave. Apparently there’s a lady in the next village over who is in severe pain. A Miskito man jumps into the boat to lead us to her. There’s a big, boisterous crowd at the village beach. The infirm lady lies prostrate in a dugout canoe. We pull up alongside. The doctors examine her. They order her into our boat to be taken to the hospital back in Puerto Lempira. Two others want to join her for the ride back into town. Roger yells that only her son can come. Her daughter gets back into the dugout. In the ensuing commotion with the crowd disputing this decision, Roger once again gets distracted. I watch the daughter slip back into our boat. Just before Roger pulls out, I point her out to him. This time he inflates his massive chest, shouting, “Get out!” It works.
The easterly winds have whipped up the waves into whitecaps for the ride home. Within minutes everyone is totally drenched. Fortunately the water is warm and feels quite good except for the salty taste. It’s brackish water, remember. We arrive at the public pier with the sun low in the western sky. Thunderheads abound—heavenly cathedrals of orange light. One would think the rough waters would make unloading the sick old lady precarious. She’s jerked up onto the pier like some dead fish left to rot. He son slings her over his back and off they go. Roger tells me often the “sick” will instantly recover their strength once at the pier and walk briskly into town. Welcome to La Mosquitia where all is not what it appears.
Br. Ed
We’ve spent this glorious day in the company of four newly arrived Americans. Betty, an eighty-year old retired pathologist on her 20th trip to Honduras and the financier of many of the missionary projects out here, Dan, who just retired as a pharmacist, Beverly, a nurse with a non-stop smile and Vial, the Missions Director at the Baptist church in Alabama they all attend. A fifth person, Nephtali, is a bi-lingual doctor from Guatemala who befriended Betty twenty years ago while studying English in the U.S. All five have traveled throughout the world together on short-term medical missions. They work quickly and efficiently like a well-oiled machine. As the multitudes learn there are doctors in the village, they throng to the school where the clinic is held. Already filled with school children, and isolated in the middle of a field unprotected from the blazing sun, the place is soon converted into an oven. Gabrielle eventually succumbs to the heat nearly fainting before being rescued by her Mother and Beverly. I react angrily clearing everyone off the porch where they are pressed together in a rush to see a doctor. The odor of sweating bodies is anything but pleasant. The stench of illness lingers on the air. For a moment the illogical thought crosses my mind that I could get sick just standing here guarding the door to the clinic. Just when I too feel faint, Katrina tells me that Karen and the girls have returned to the waterfront to eat lunch. My left ear pops during the 15-minute walk. Normally this only happens when I’m mountain climbing. For the first time it occurs to me that perhaps the phenomenon is related to oxygen deprivation. I collapse next to the girls when I reach the beach, too hot to even think about eating.
We arrived at the missionary complex early this morning. A couple of years ago Tom Brian placed two construction site-type trailers side by side under a massive tin roof. One serves as his dental clinic when he visits once a month. The other serves as a dormitory. About 30 yards away is a two-story house. This was the home of Baptist missionary. He divorced his wife after running off with a Miskito girl. It turns out he was working for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency and was only fronting as a missionary. The upstairs of the house reminds Karen of a cottage at the St. Lawrence. It’s made entirely out of wood with a tall ceiling, one large open room off of which are a couple of bedrooms each with a full shower. In this land of voracious termites, it’s shocking. A couple of hundred yards away is a row of trees. Roger’s boat is “docked” in the shade of a massive mango tree on a creek about six feet wide. We follow this serpentine creek for about 10 minutes before reaching the lagoon. Along the way we pass young boys swimming naked in the rust-colored waters. We actually collide with a dugout canoe coming the other way after our engine stalls. The frightened girl in the dugout watches helplessly unable to steer clear since her canoe is filled to the waterline with sand. Parents send their children out to the entrance of the lagoon to fill their dugouts with sand to be sold at a profit. The kids are in no hurry. At the entrance to the lagoon, Roger turns off the motor, raises it and jumps into the water. He guides us over the sandbar.
With 14 people aboard, plus all their gear, the 65 hp Evinrude outboard struggles to reach 25 mph. The breeze fights to cool us from what is already a blazing sun. From the perspective of the water, the shoreline is gorgeous. We alternate between wide-open expanses of lagoon and narrow passageways that meander through the mangroves. We spot brilliant water lilies, white herons and high above us soaring on the thermals, vultures. At one point I pinch myself since the view is so reminiscent of the eastern end of Carleton Island on the St. Lawrence. The only item missing is the silo next to the abandoned farm. Instead of a silo, here we see a lone thatched roof hut—some Miskito’s idea of escaping the maddening crowd. A large splash on the water reminds us we’re traversing some world-class fishing holes. Although many have promised, so far no one has actually taken us fishing. Alas, we’ve been way too busy. At the end of the day Gabrielle, with her winning smile, says, “Dad why don’t we come back out here some day for a picnic?” Good idea!
After about an hour we arrive at Cocotá. The setting is idyllic. Women in brightly colored shirts wash clothes beneath the coconut palms on the shoreline. We beach our boat next to a recently finished dugout canoe. The wood is bright red. It’s at least 25’ long. The bow and stern are identical-squared off tips gently following a curve of about three feet in length. Wood chips litter the area. It looks like it weighs 2,000 pounds. When I attempt to lift one end it doesn’t even budge. From my high school physics class I recall the formula for momentum: p=mv (mass times velocity). Once you get this thing moving, it won’t take much effort to keep it going. It glides through the water like a freighter. I’ve never seen one rocking from side to side. As I study its shape I try to imagine a family of 6 plus all their belongings heading to town in this. It’s about 2.5 feet deep on the inside. Near both ends, three narrow vertical slits have been carved into each side of the boat directly opposite each other. Since I have yet to see these in use, I’m puzzled. Perhaps they house cross beams that can then be used to support an additional layer of goods resting on wooden shelves. Maybe they’re used when they’re out fishing. It crosses my mind that this design hasn’t changed much in a thousand years.
Katrina shouts hello in Miskito to the wash ladies. Her bubbly personality and winning smile endear her to all. She spent her first four years living as a nanny with an American missionary family in a village just like this. When she returned with her husband Roger and their two boys, they spent a couple of years living in the rainforest. In other words, she’s totally at ease here and the people sense it. She announces in Miskito that the doctors have arrived and will be holding a clinic up at the school. She adds that we’ll be sharing the gospel. We haul our goods 15 minutes up a footpath. At the rise of the hill, we look out across a narrow valley to see the two-room school across the way. I’m bringing up the rear along with the pharmacist and the Guatemalan. We stop at what appears to be a brand-new well. Its design is puzzling at first since there is no handle. I ask the owner to come show us how it works. He lifts the entire pipe up and down. It’s the Italian aid group GVC’s work. Nearby is a plastic latrine resting over a newly dug hole. The aluminum sided shed designed to go over the top sits on the ground beside it. Either the project isn’t finished or modesty is not a high priority here. When an elder lady passing by lifts up her shirt to scratch herself exposing her breasts, my question is answered.
Once the medical personnel begin to see patients, Katrina announces the start of the skit. She’s brought along a whole array of Bible figures and scenery that can be easily interchanged on a felt-board background. The felt figures cling to the felt blackboard. Katrina’s Miskito is excellent, aided by her contagious enthusiasm and animated gestures. She starts off by leading the children through well-known Christian songs. They join in enthusiastically. The student’s eyes are riveted on her as she explains the Gospel beginning with Adam and Eve. She spends a good deal of time on the crucifixion and heaven. She removes her wedding band explaining the streets in heaven will be paved with gold. The kids look incredulous. With bowed heads, she leads the students through the sinner’s prayer. Later we learn there are four active Christian churches in this large village. Perhaps some fruit will be borne of this day. Only God knows.
Katrina asks me to lead the afternoon classes through the same exercise. By the time I do, all of us are drained of energy. I ask the Lord to pour out His Spirit since I don’t have the physical strength to do anything. About halfway through I realize how important it is for an evangelist in these parts to speak fluent Miskito. The teacher understands me perfectly and appears to be moved. As I pack up to leave, he’s reviewing the lesson I shared but in Miskito. “Lord may your word not return to You void,” is my prayer.
Next door, the females break for lunch. I offer to return to the boat to fill their depleted water bottles. When I arrive at the boat, I find it unguarded. Roger had hired a man to guard it during our absence. More experienced missionaries have told us that anything and everything in this culture is considered fair game if left unattended. They figure if you’re not around and you leave things lying around, you don’t really want them. Things like ripe watermelons, tools, wash buckets, money and outboard motors. I scurry back to the school and inform Roger of the situation. He orders me back to the boat on the double. When I return, I quickly change into my swimsuit, walk into the water and sit down. It takes about 15 minutes for me to cool down. As I wait, a couple of hundred minnows surround me and begin to nibble on my skin. Cooling off is worth this distraction, believe me.
When everyone returns from the school, Katrina walks right into the water fully clothed. Michaela follows suit. Even my modest wife walks in up to her shorts! There’s quite a commotion just before we push off to leave. Apparently there’s a lady in the next village over who is in severe pain. A Miskito man jumps into the boat to lead us to her. There’s a big, boisterous crowd at the village beach. The infirm lady lies prostrate in a dugout canoe. We pull up alongside. The doctors examine her. They order her into our boat to be taken to the hospital back in Puerto Lempira. Two others want to join her for the ride back into town. Roger yells that only her son can come. Her daughter gets back into the dugout. In the ensuing commotion with the crowd disputing this decision, Roger once again gets distracted. I watch the daughter slip back into our boat. Just before Roger pulls out, I point her out to him. This time he inflates his massive chest, shouting, “Get out!” It works.
The easterly winds have whipped up the waves into whitecaps for the ride home. Within minutes everyone is totally drenched. Fortunately the water is warm and feels quite good except for the salty taste. It’s brackish water, remember. We arrive at the public pier with the sun low in the western sky. Thunderheads abound—heavenly cathedrals of orange light. One would think the rough waters would make unloading the sick old lady precarious. She’s jerked up onto the pier like some dead fish left to rot. He son slings her over his back and off they go. Roger tells me often the “sick” will instantly recover their strength once at the pier and walk briskly into town. Welcome to La Mosquitia where all is not what it appears.
Br. Ed
posted by Eric Stephens at 21:49
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Today's Letter from Karen
We’re spending a rainy day at home today, catching up on schoolwork, laundry and sleep. Yesterday we took a 45 minute boat ride to the Miskito village of Cocotá. It was wonderful to be on the water and we traveled through some very interesting natural canal systems. Cocotá is a large village and looks just like something you’d see in National Geographic. As we came to shore there was a newly carved dug-out canoe on the bank. It was a beautiful work of art.
We had to lug all the medical equipment, water, bible school materials, etc., quite a ways from shore to the schoolhouse. This school had two rooms and you could climb the stairs without fear of falling (unlike Tapanmylia –I misspelled it on the last blogspot entry). The medical clinic was set up in one room while Katrina and our family was in the other teaching the children. It was such a different experience than Friday. It was so loud because of the sheer numbers of people and it was hard for Katrina to be heard and keep their attention. It was also oppressively HOT and HUMID. We know though, that the Word of God does not return onto Him void (Is.55:11).
When bible school was over, Ed and I were given the job of disseminating old prescription eyeglasses to the adults. It was great fun. Many of the men had on women’s glasses and visa-versa. Not one of them brought or requested a mirror to see how they looked in them. It simply didn’t matter. They were just thrilled to have their vision improved. One woman brought a rusty (EVERYTHING rusts here) needle and tested each pair of glasses to see if she could thread it with a piece of grass or not. When all the glasses were gone we went to see how the clinic was going.
Ed took charge of crowd control. Bethany and Michaela got some hands-on medical experience at the clinic Bethany helped with and even gave an injection in a woman’s hip. Gabrielle was recovering from almost fainting. We had just been asked if we wanted to see Dr. Naphtali (from Guatemala) give a man stitches. The man had a deep machete wound on his upper arm. The Dr. gave him an injection directly into the gash to numb the area when Gabrielle turned to me and said, “Mom, I’m going to faint.” I sat her down. Her lips were whitish-purple. Thankfully, we were surrounded by medical people. Beverly, the nurse, helped me get her outside the stifling room and onto the end of the porch where there was a faint breeze. We pushed liquids on her and wiped her down with cool water. Thank the Lord, she was herself again in short order.
There was a 13 year old boy that hung around the girls and me for most of the day (much to Chaela’s dismay). He explained to me that he was the only one in the area who spoke English (his mother is dead, his father lives in Chicago, and he lives with his uncle there), so whenever Americans came to the village he stuck to them like glue and talked to his heart’s content. When we walked down to the boat to eat lunch, he came with us because two other young boys decided to accompany us as well. He said he was concerned about us because one of the boys would “thief” us. Gabrielle told him not to worry, she had taken some self-defense classes and could handle the situation. Ed came down shortly after and told the would- be thiefs to split-literally.
At the shore, many women were washing clothes. I watched them to pick up some helpful hints. They’ve been doing it a lot longer than I have. Keeping the wet clothing on a rock by the shore they would beat it with a small log. I don’t think I’ll adopt this technique. Our clothing is already showing tremendous signs of wear and tear due to the ever-present dirt and the intense sun.
While we ate lunch, we watched little boys shimmy up a bent palm tree hanging over the water. They would then grab a palm frond and swing up in the air and let go. It sure looked like fun. One of the boys was only 4 yrs. old and hadn’t a stitch of clothing on. Before we left the village, Ed and Chaela (with her clothes on), along with Katrina’s family all went swimming. They didn’t try the palm tree frond routine because the water was only a couple feet deep there. I just waded in and splashed around a bit. The thought of traveling back to Puerto Lempira in wet clothing was not appealing. It turned out not to make any difference, as the ride home was very rough and we got soaked anyhow!
When we got home we were wet, hungry and exhausted. Ed had made plans to get together with an American, Tom, and his son for dinner. Tom came here with the Peace Corps in the late seventies. He married a Moskito woman and has three children by her. He’s only been to the States for three years since he first came. When talking, he often would say, ”I don’t remember how to say it in English”. He came to know Christ as his Savior and Lord in 1987. We had a wonderful evening of fellowship and sharing testimonies. We definitely want to spend more time with him because he’s very knowledgeable about the Miskito culture. We’re just beginning to learn about their ways, customs and folklore.
We got home and fell into bed. Life in the fast lane, as Ed would say.
We plan to get some photos to Eric by next week so he can put them on this web site. I hope they help give some context to what we’ve tried to describe to you about life here.
Hope all is well with everyone! We miss you and love you.
God bless you richly-
Karen and family
We had to lug all the medical equipment, water, bible school materials, etc., quite a ways from shore to the schoolhouse. This school had two rooms and you could climb the stairs without fear of falling (unlike Tapanmylia –I misspelled it on the last blogspot entry). The medical clinic was set up in one room while Katrina and our family was in the other teaching the children. It was such a different experience than Friday. It was so loud because of the sheer numbers of people and it was hard for Katrina to be heard and keep their attention. It was also oppressively HOT and HUMID. We know though, that the Word of God does not return onto Him void (Is.55:11).
When bible school was over, Ed and I were given the job of disseminating old prescription eyeglasses to the adults. It was great fun. Many of the men had on women’s glasses and visa-versa. Not one of them brought or requested a mirror to see how they looked in them. It simply didn’t matter. They were just thrilled to have their vision improved. One woman brought a rusty (EVERYTHING rusts here) needle and tested each pair of glasses to see if she could thread it with a piece of grass or not. When all the glasses were gone we went to see how the clinic was going.
Ed took charge of crowd control. Bethany and Michaela got some hands-on medical experience at the clinic Bethany helped with and even gave an injection in a woman’s hip. Gabrielle was recovering from almost fainting. We had just been asked if we wanted to see Dr. Naphtali (from Guatemala) give a man stitches. The man had a deep machete wound on his upper arm. The Dr. gave him an injection directly into the gash to numb the area when Gabrielle turned to me and said, “Mom, I’m going to faint.” I sat her down. Her lips were whitish-purple. Thankfully, we were surrounded by medical people. Beverly, the nurse, helped me get her outside the stifling room and onto the end of the porch where there was a faint breeze. We pushed liquids on her and wiped her down with cool water. Thank the Lord, she was herself again in short order.
There was a 13 year old boy that hung around the girls and me for most of the day (much to Chaela’s dismay). He explained to me that he was the only one in the area who spoke English (his mother is dead, his father lives in Chicago, and he lives with his uncle there), so whenever Americans came to the village he stuck to them like glue and talked to his heart’s content. When we walked down to the boat to eat lunch, he came with us because two other young boys decided to accompany us as well. He said he was concerned about us because one of the boys would “thief” us. Gabrielle told him not to worry, she had taken some self-defense classes and could handle the situation. Ed came down shortly after and told the would- be thiefs to split-literally.
At the shore, many women were washing clothes. I watched them to pick up some helpful hints. They’ve been doing it a lot longer than I have. Keeping the wet clothing on a rock by the shore they would beat it with a small log. I don’t think I’ll adopt this technique. Our clothing is already showing tremendous signs of wear and tear due to the ever-present dirt and the intense sun.
While we ate lunch, we watched little boys shimmy up a bent palm tree hanging over the water. They would then grab a palm frond and swing up in the air and let go. It sure looked like fun. One of the boys was only 4 yrs. old and hadn’t a stitch of clothing on. Before we left the village, Ed and Chaela (with her clothes on), along with Katrina’s family all went swimming. They didn’t try the palm tree frond routine because the water was only a couple feet deep there. I just waded in and splashed around a bit. The thought of traveling back to Puerto Lempira in wet clothing was not appealing. It turned out not to make any difference, as the ride home was very rough and we got soaked anyhow!
When we got home we were wet, hungry and exhausted. Ed had made plans to get together with an American, Tom, and his son for dinner. Tom came here with the Peace Corps in the late seventies. He married a Moskito woman and has three children by her. He’s only been to the States for three years since he first came. When talking, he often would say, ”I don’t remember how to say it in English”. He came to know Christ as his Savior and Lord in 1987. We had a wonderful evening of fellowship and sharing testimonies. We definitely want to spend more time with him because he’s very knowledgeable about the Miskito culture. We’re just beginning to learn about their ways, customs and folklore.
We got home and fell into bed. Life in the fast lane, as Ed would say.
We plan to get some photos to Eric by next week so he can put them on this web site. I hope they help give some context to what we’ve tried to describe to you about life here.
Hope all is well with everyone! We miss you and love you.
God bless you richly-
Karen and family
posted by Eric Stephens at 18:47
Monday, October 11, 2004
Book Recommendation from Ed & Karen
Near The Far Bamboo by Martin St. Kilda. He spent 3.5 yrs as a veterinarian missionary in Bangladesh. This book is very inciteful and written with a good sense of humor. Highly recommended by both Karen and I.
Available at Amazon and perhaps B&N.
Available at Amazon and perhaps B&N.
posted by Eric Stephens at 20:45
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Karen's Log 9 October 2004
I’m SO sore. We just woke up and feel like I was in a car wreck. Gabrielle said her bottom was black and blue from all the bumps yesterday. I’m acutely reminded of the fibromyalgia. No matter, it was totally worth it.
I failed to mention, the family that came to Christ yesterday, jumped on the back of two horses (an adult and two children on each) and rode away. They must be from another village.
If we are able to visit Tapamalia again I’d love to bring them some clothing. Many of the little boys had nothing on, and the others were in the most soiled and tattered clothing I’ve ever seen. Katrina said this is poorest village she knows of, and the most neglected. The people receive almost no outside help or aid because of its small size and location.
The group we traveled with is on their way today (Saturday), as I write this, to a village called Tiki-ria. It’s a six-hour boat ride one-way. We had made other plans for today and Roger needed us to exchange some dollars for Lempiras at the bank. Our next trip with them is planned for this Monday (October 11, 2004). Please pray for the Lord’s mercy and His presence to be in the midst of us all!
We miss and think of you all OFTEN!
Love,
Karen and family
I failed to mention, the family that came to Christ yesterday, jumped on the back of two horses (an adult and two children on each) and rode away. They must be from another village.
If we are able to visit Tapamalia again I’d love to bring them some clothing. Many of the little boys had nothing on, and the others were in the most soiled and tattered clothing I’ve ever seen. Katrina said this is poorest village she knows of, and the most neglected. The people receive almost no outside help or aid because of its small size and location.
The group we traveled with is on their way today (Saturday), as I write this, to a village called Tiki-ria. It’s a six-hour boat ride one-way. We had made other plans for today and Roger needed us to exchange some dollars for Lempiras at the bank. Our next trip with them is planned for this Monday (October 11, 2004). Please pray for the Lord’s mercy and His presence to be in the midst of us all!
We miss and think of you all OFTEN!
Love,
Karen and family
posted by Eric Stephens at 16:18
Short Report - Remote Village Visit
Short Note from Ed
"We´re hoping to send up some photos next week via missionaries here pm short-term medical missions. These will be our first from Bethany´s new digital camera. Karen, Gabrielle and Michaela went with them today to a village so remote they hadn´t seen anyone in two years! Many got saved! Karen is weeping with joy. We had prayed fervently this morning for fruit. God is WONDERFUL!"
"We´re hoping to send up some photos next week via missionaries here pm short-term medical missions. These will be our first from Bethany´s new digital camera. Karen, Gabrielle and Michaela went with them today to a village so remote they hadn´t seen anyone in two years! Many got saved! Karen is weeping with joy. We had prayed fervently this morning for fruit. God is WONDERFUL!"
posted by Eric Stephens at 08:53
7 October 2004
Letter from Ed...
I had a chance to share God’s word last night for the first time at church. Since this month the Small Groups are studying the theme of spiritual warfare, I opted to teach on the sword of the Spirit (Eph. 6:17). I knew I was doing a wonderful job when one lady got up about half way through and walked out while others fell asleep. Hey, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Oh well, I trust somebody was listening.
I continue to be blessed at how well everyone seems to be adjusting. I’m in the midst of writing a New Believers Class curriculum, preparing to teach the Bible class to the elementary students at the Assembly of God’s Christian academy, to prepare for a “retreat” for new believers where I will be one of 4 speakers (my subject is God’s forgiveness- Psalm 32), and to devise a system for following up with and making disciples of new converts. I am editing Pastor David’s curriculum on Discipleship. Yesterday I inventoried all of the stuff in Roger and Katrina’s storage shed (a project which had been waiting 2 years to be completed). Last night six American medical missionaries arrived to begin a week of visits to remote sites. Karen, Gabrielle and Michaela just left to go with them. I had to stay home with a feverish Bethany (the first sickness anyone has had). I’ll get my chance tomorrow, God willing. Yesterday morning I ran into Pastor Ramon from Cauquira down at the pier. He told me he wants to work for me now, planting churches out in the remote villages. Please pray for this. I find myself so skeptical of anyone after hearing all of the stories of corruption. Pastor Ramon however is one of only two men in Cauquira who consistently gets classified as a good brother.
I just gave away two Spanish Bibles last night. Two men in our Monday Men’s Group Bible Study said they didn’t own one. One of the two refers to himself as a recovering drunk. He wears the same tattered turtleneck to every meeting (can you imagine a turtleneck in this heat?!!!!) He is the oldest in the group by far at age 60. Of course, given his drinking history, he appears much older. He walks a half an hour to get to church. I reserved the Bible that was still in its original wrapping for him. When I handed him his new Bible he just stared at it. With an air of utmost solemnity, he took it in both hands and carefully placed it on the chair beside him. He then proceeded to gaze at it as if it were a precious jewel--which of course, it is! He was literally speechless.
I had a chance to share God’s word last night for the first time at church. Since this month the Small Groups are studying the theme of spiritual warfare, I opted to teach on the sword of the Spirit (Eph. 6:17). I knew I was doing a wonderful job when one lady got up about half way through and walked out while others fell asleep. Hey, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Oh well, I trust somebody was listening.
I continue to be blessed at how well everyone seems to be adjusting. I’m in the midst of writing a New Believers Class curriculum, preparing to teach the Bible class to the elementary students at the Assembly of God’s Christian academy, to prepare for a “retreat” for new believers where I will be one of 4 speakers (my subject is God’s forgiveness- Psalm 32), and to devise a system for following up with and making disciples of new converts. I am editing Pastor David’s curriculum on Discipleship. Yesterday I inventoried all of the stuff in Roger and Katrina’s storage shed (a project which had been waiting 2 years to be completed). Last night six American medical missionaries arrived to begin a week of visits to remote sites. Karen, Gabrielle and Michaela just left to go with them. I had to stay home with a feverish Bethany (the first sickness anyone has had). I’ll get my chance tomorrow, God willing. Yesterday morning I ran into Pastor Ramon from Cauquira down at the pier. He told me he wants to work for me now, planting churches out in the remote villages. Please pray for this. I find myself so skeptical of anyone after hearing all of the stories of corruption. Pastor Ramon however is one of only two men in Cauquira who consistently gets classified as a good brother.
I just gave away two Spanish Bibles last night. Two men in our Monday Men’s Group Bible Study said they didn’t own one. One of the two refers to himself as a recovering drunk. He wears the same tattered turtleneck to every meeting (can you imagine a turtleneck in this heat?!!!!) He is the oldest in the group by far at age 60. Of course, given his drinking history, he appears much older. He walks a half an hour to get to church. I reserved the Bible that was still in its original wrapping for him. When I handed him his new Bible he just stared at it. With an air of utmost solemnity, he took it in both hands and carefully placed it on the chair beside him. He then proceeded to gaze at it as if it were a precious jewel--which of course, it is! He was literally speechless.
posted by Eric Stephens at 08:49
Friday, October 08, 2004
Karen's Log 8 October 2004
Gabrielle, Michaela and I just returned from Tapamalia. Bethany was feeling a little under the weather and so was Ed (cold virus), so they stayed behind. A small group of medical missionaries arrived two days ago from the U.S.
We drove with them for almost two hours in a big diesel 4WD pick-up truck over the only road leading out of Puerto Lempira. I never realized what a remote place we’re living in. You can’t get to any other parts of the country from here. There’s no road beyond a certain distance away. Now I see why everything is either flown in or shipped here. The road we traveled on is dirt (looks more like red clay), windy, puddle and pothole ridden, and BUMPY. There is literally nothing for two hours of driving but a few trees and rolling hills and meadows. After being jarred for one hour and fifty minutes we came upon a few wooden huts on stilts. A little further down the road was a one- room schoolhouse where the medical clinic was to take place. The school was in such a state of disrepair, there were only two “steps” to climb up the five feet to get to the floor level. One of these steps was so loose it was useless. Once you arrived at the top of the stairs there were no floorboards for a few feet in all directions. You had to jump to a piece of flooring and hope it’d hold your weight. Once you managed to get to the doorway you were okay. We only invited the children to come up but many adults tried to negotiate their way to see what was going on. Katrina did a wonderful job explaining the Gospel and salvation in Christ Jesus in Spanish and another brother translated it into Miskito. When she was done she asked if anyone wanted to receive Christ as savior. A whole family came forward, as well as about five or six children. Their sincerity, eagerness, and hunger for the Lord bowled me over. I had a hard time remaining composed. This is what I’m alive for (Isaiah 61:1).
The doctors (one U.S., one Guatemalan), nurse and pharmacist went to work diagnosing different complaints. This village has not seen anyone from the outside for two years, and the last ones they saw were Katrina and Roger. There were a lot of ear infections, parasites (intestinal worms), anemia, scabies, etc. One poor girl looked on the verge of tears. I could tell just by looking at her that she didn’t feel well. She had a temperature of 104. She ended up coming back to Puerto Lempira with us (she has some family here) to be tested for malaria at the hospital here.
We drove with them for almost two hours in a big diesel 4WD pick-up truck over the only road leading out of Puerto Lempira. I never realized what a remote place we’re living in. You can’t get to any other parts of the country from here. There’s no road beyond a certain distance away. Now I see why everything is either flown in or shipped here. The road we traveled on is dirt (looks more like red clay), windy, puddle and pothole ridden, and BUMPY. There is literally nothing for two hours of driving but a few trees and rolling hills and meadows. After being jarred for one hour and fifty minutes we came upon a few wooden huts on stilts. A little further down the road was a one- room schoolhouse where the medical clinic was to take place. The school was in such a state of disrepair, there were only two “steps” to climb up the five feet to get to the floor level. One of these steps was so loose it was useless. Once you arrived at the top of the stairs there were no floorboards for a few feet in all directions. You had to jump to a piece of flooring and hope it’d hold your weight. Once you managed to get to the doorway you were okay. We only invited the children to come up but many adults tried to negotiate their way to see what was going on. Katrina did a wonderful job explaining the Gospel and salvation in Christ Jesus in Spanish and another brother translated it into Miskito. When she was done she asked if anyone wanted to receive Christ as savior. A whole family came forward, as well as about five or six children. Their sincerity, eagerness, and hunger for the Lord bowled me over. I had a hard time remaining composed. This is what I’m alive for (Isaiah 61:1).
The doctors (one U.S., one Guatemalan), nurse and pharmacist went to work diagnosing different complaints. This village has not seen anyone from the outside for two years, and the last ones they saw were Katrina and Roger. There were a lot of ear infections, parasites (intestinal worms), anemia, scabies, etc. One poor girl looked on the verge of tears. I could tell just by looking at her that she didn’t feel well. She had a temperature of 104. She ended up coming back to Puerto Lempira with us (she has some family here) to be tested for malaria at the hospital here.
posted by Eric Stephens at 16:19
Remote Village Visit
From Ed
Today we´re off to a remote village and some more trips with recently arrived US missionaries doctors and nurses over the next few days. Please have everyone pray for these trips that there would be fruit.
Today we´re off to a remote village and some more trips with recently arrived US missionaries doctors and nurses over the next few days. Please have everyone pray for these trips that there would be fruit.
posted by Eric Stephens at 13:11
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Karen's Log 6 October 2004
Bad news. The shopkeeper, that gave me dubious change the other day, told us today that the rainy season hasn’t even begun yet. He said during the rainy season there’s no sunshine at all for weeks at a time! November is when it starts, according to the locals.
Eddie preached tonight at church a good word on the Word. He shared it with us at dinnertime so we could follow it in Spanish. Bethany was suppose to play the electric keyboard during worship but just before the singing was to begin, smoke came out of it then we lost all power for a few minutes. When power was restored everything came back on except the piano. Qué lastima!
At church, the children often stare at the girls. Katrina said they think blue eyes look like marbles and that our girls could possibly be blind. Also their light colored hair is a novelty. The children in the neighborhood come around the house every afternoon and call to the girls so they’ll come out with their volleyball and hit it to them. Some of them are getting quite good. It’s also a good time for the girls to practice their Spanish. The children here, almost without exception, are beautiful.
Eddie preached tonight at church a good word on the Word. He shared it with us at dinnertime so we could follow it in Spanish. Bethany was suppose to play the electric keyboard during worship but just before the singing was to begin, smoke came out of it then we lost all power for a few minutes. When power was restored everything came back on except the piano. Qué lastima!
At church, the children often stare at the girls. Katrina said they think blue eyes look like marbles and that our girls could possibly be blind. Also their light colored hair is a novelty. The children in the neighborhood come around the house every afternoon and call to the girls so they’ll come out with their volleyball and hit it to them. Some of them are getting quite good. It’s also a good time for the girls to practice their Spanish. The children here, almost without exception, are beautiful.
posted by Eric Stephens at 16:20
Salida del sol en Cauquira
posted by Eric Stephens at 10:13
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Karen's Log 5 October 2004
Puerto Lempira is a small city of about 15,000 people. It’s in the region of northeastern Honduras referred to as La Moskitia. It’s the “wild west” of the country where few laws prevail. The majority of the people here are Moskito and speak an indigenous language as well as Spanish. I’m encouraged that it’s their second language, and Ed says they make numerous grammatical errors when speaking Spanish. This gives me hope for trying my Spanish on them.
It seems that nothing is grown here and all the produce is shipped in. Most of the little stores in town carry the same things. Common fruits are oranges, apples, pineapple, bananas, plantains and sometimes papaya and watermelon. Keep in mind, this fruit sits out with insects swarming around it- not exactly the most appetizing to look at (not washed, waxed and shined and looked over for gross imperfections like Danny Wegman’s fruit). If the ship doesn’t come in for a while (due to weather, technical difficulties, or because the captain now has a girlfriend at a certain port-I’m not making this up-) there is no fruit so I try to keep raisins in the house. I’ve become more confident shopping. Yesterday I bought cabbage, cucumbers, onion, potatoes (I ruin a sponge cleaning them they are SO dirty), and carrots. The owner gave me back incorrect change, in his favor of course. I starred at it and repeated the amount I originally gave him with a question mark. “Dos cientos?” He gave me a look of surprise, apologized profusely, then gave me more change. I wonder……
People walk by our home all day and all night. It’s a little unnerving. But it seems to be business as usual, and nothing to do with the gringos in the house. Many of the homes here resemble shantytown dwellings. I think this area resembles Appalachia in the U.S. except for the palm trees, tropical climate, and flat topography. Speaking of the climate, the rainy season is officially here. It rains off and on 24 hours a day. I guess more on than off. The local people walk around as if nothing‘s happening. No raincoats, no walking quick to get to their destination. When it rains, it often comes in massive waves of torrential downpour. It makes drying clothes a little tricky. We’ve resorted to hanging a clothesline in our one big room with an oscillating fan blowing on it. One good thing that accompanies the change in season is cooler temperatures. As a result of being inside more many of our weird bug bites are able to heal before getting a new round.
It seems that nothing is grown here and all the produce is shipped in. Most of the little stores in town carry the same things. Common fruits are oranges, apples, pineapple, bananas, plantains and sometimes papaya and watermelon. Keep in mind, this fruit sits out with insects swarming around it- not exactly the most appetizing to look at (not washed, waxed and shined and looked over for gross imperfections like Danny Wegman’s fruit). If the ship doesn’t come in for a while (due to weather, technical difficulties, or because the captain now has a girlfriend at a certain port-I’m not making this up-) there is no fruit so I try to keep raisins in the house. I’ve become more confident shopping. Yesterday I bought cabbage, cucumbers, onion, potatoes (I ruin a sponge cleaning them they are SO dirty), and carrots. The owner gave me back incorrect change, in his favor of course. I starred at it and repeated the amount I originally gave him with a question mark. “Dos cientos?” He gave me a look of surprise, apologized profusely, then gave me more change. I wonder……
People walk by our home all day and all night. It’s a little unnerving. But it seems to be business as usual, and nothing to do with the gringos in the house. Many of the homes here resemble shantytown dwellings. I think this area resembles Appalachia in the U.S. except for the palm trees, tropical climate, and flat topography. Speaking of the climate, the rainy season is officially here. It rains off and on 24 hours a day. I guess more on than off. The local people walk around as if nothing‘s happening. No raincoats, no walking quick to get to their destination. When it rains, it often comes in massive waves of torrential downpour. It makes drying clothes a little tricky. We’ve resorted to hanging a clothesline in our one big room with an oscillating fan blowing on it. One good thing that accompanies the change in season is cooler temperatures. As a result of being inside more many of our weird bug bites are able to heal before getting a new round.
posted by Eric Stephens at 16:21
Monday, October 04, 2004
Updated Postal Information
I just spoke to Barbara Neri this morning who spoke to Ed. She passed along new instructions for sending postal letters to the family. I've updated the address information in my previous post to reflect those changes.
Also, Ed (through Barbara) indicated that no one should attempt shipping parcels until further notice.
Also, Ed (through Barbara) indicated that no one should attempt shipping parcels until further notice.
posted by Eric Stephens at 10:35
Saturday, October 02, 2004
Dearest Saints...
Dearest Saints-
Oct. 2, 2004
We are so grateful that you’re gathering tonight. We pray you are encouraged and quickened in your walk with the King of Kings. This is an exciting time as we are spying out the land to see where and how to proceed. Ed has a lot on his plate to pray about and consider and I’ll let him bring you up to speed with that. The pastor of the local church we are attending believes that of the 15,000 people residing in and around Puerto Lempira, about 800 are true believers. The harvest is indeed plentiful. The scriptures that are so alive to me right now are Matthew 9:35-38: “And Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news (the Gospel) of the kingdom and curing all kinds of disease and every weakness and infirmity. When He saw the throngs, He was moved with pity and sympathy for them, because they were bewildered (harassed and distresses and dejected and helpless), like sheep without a shepherd. Then He said to His disciples, the harvest is indeed plentiful, but the laborers are few. So pray to the Lord of the harvest to force out and thrust laborers into His harvest.”
We have visited the hospital and pray to be the Lord’s hand extended there. Please join us in praying for souls to be set free from the power of Satan and that the gifts of healing would flow through us to His glory. Also, between Oct. 7th and the 14th, Katrina and Roger have invited us to go on three medical missions to very remote villages with a couple of U.S. doctors and one from Guatemala. We will be involved with sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ while the clinic is going on. Thank God Katrina is conversant in the Miskito language. We will primarily use flannel board and flannel figures to convey the account of Christ’s life, death and glorious resurrection. Please pray that the Lord would prepare the ground of their hearts to receive the holy seed of His Word, and that it will produce eternal fruit.
Please tell the Millers that Katrina came over this morning, and as I began to inquire about some of the students at the Christian school (specifically, Ursala) she spoke of a little boy named Nancio. These siblings were severely burned when their mother locked them inside their home with a lit candle and then went out dancing until 3am. Katrina and Roger are paying for Ursala to attend school this year and are praying for the ability to send her brother Nancio next year. We calculated it would cost $400/yr. for tuition, uniform, and books. If any one wants more information we could forward a picture and more information. The overwhelming feeling is that this is such a small drop in the bucket, but the Lord knows.
Thank you so much saints for your prayers! Please prayerfully consider visiting us- the house next door is vacant, and of course there’s always room at the inn.
Please let the Millers know that their labor was not in vain. We are so grateful for all their contributions of time, labor and love. To God be all glory and honor! He is worthy of all our efforts as they are done as unto Him, and Him alone. Hallelujah!
May the Lord continue to shine his face upon you all!
I love and miss you all,
Sis. Karen
Oct. 2, 2004
We are so grateful that you’re gathering tonight. We pray you are encouraged and quickened in your walk with the King of Kings. This is an exciting time as we are spying out the land to see where and how to proceed. Ed has a lot on his plate to pray about and consider and I’ll let him bring you up to speed with that. The pastor of the local church we are attending believes that of the 15,000 people residing in and around Puerto Lempira, about 800 are true believers. The harvest is indeed plentiful. The scriptures that are so alive to me right now are Matthew 9:35-38: “And Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news (the Gospel) of the kingdom and curing all kinds of disease and every weakness and infirmity. When He saw the throngs, He was moved with pity and sympathy for them, because they were bewildered (harassed and distresses and dejected and helpless), like sheep without a shepherd. Then He said to His disciples, the harvest is indeed plentiful, but the laborers are few. So pray to the Lord of the harvest to force out and thrust laborers into His harvest.”
We have visited the hospital and pray to be the Lord’s hand extended there. Please join us in praying for souls to be set free from the power of Satan and that the gifts of healing would flow through us to His glory. Also, between Oct. 7th and the 14th, Katrina and Roger have invited us to go on three medical missions to very remote villages with a couple of U.S. doctors and one from Guatemala. We will be involved with sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ while the clinic is going on. Thank God Katrina is conversant in the Miskito language. We will primarily use flannel board and flannel figures to convey the account of Christ’s life, death and glorious resurrection. Please pray that the Lord would prepare the ground of their hearts to receive the holy seed of His Word, and that it will produce eternal fruit.
Please tell the Millers that Katrina came over this morning, and as I began to inquire about some of the students at the Christian school (specifically, Ursala) she spoke of a little boy named Nancio. These siblings were severely burned when their mother locked them inside their home with a lit candle and then went out dancing until 3am. Katrina and Roger are paying for Ursala to attend school this year and are praying for the ability to send her brother Nancio next year. We calculated it would cost $400/yr. for tuition, uniform, and books. If any one wants more information we could forward a picture and more information. The overwhelming feeling is that this is such a small drop in the bucket, but the Lord knows.
Thank you so much saints for your prayers! Please prayerfully consider visiting us- the house next door is vacant, and of course there’s always room at the inn.
Please let the Millers know that their labor was not in vain. We are so grateful for all their contributions of time, labor and love. To God be all glory and honor! He is worthy of all our efforts as they are done as unto Him, and Him alone. Hallelujah!
May the Lord continue to shine his face upon you all!
I love and miss you all,
Sis. Karen
posted by Eric Stephens at 17:09
Life in the Fast Lane
Greetings from Honduras
(aka life in the fast lane)
Friday 10.1.2004
We’ve been told since our arrival that this is the rainy season. Until yesterday, you could have fooled us as each day dawned cloudless and hot. The only way to go to bed without being covered in sweat was to take a bucket shower. Although there are faucets and a showerhead, they don’t work since there is no running water into the house. Once a day for about an hour in the afternoon, municipal water comes out of a small faucet resting atop a cistern built into the house on the small back porch. It looks to me as if it can hold anywhere from 25 to 50 gallons. We try to fill it each afternoon because the supply is irregular. When we do, swarms of mosquitoes come out from underneath the overhang. Karen tried putting some Clorox bleach into the water and that seemed to work for a time. But for some reason, last week there appeared thousands of them in our bathroom. We were afraid they would carry Bethany away. The heat of the afternoon sun causes at least 5 gallons to evaporate out of the cistern by sunset. All water comes into the house in a small plastic pink bucket. We use it to wash the dishes, flush the toilet and to fill our wash bucket in the shower. We scoop up water with a plastic coffee mug and pour it over our bodies to bathe. Both Karen and Michaela have resorted to first heating the water on the stove before using it to bathe with. I prefer the shock of the cold water especially since until yesterday, the heat had been insufferable. It renders one lifeless by mid-day. Of course, this is what drives people into beds and hammocks for the ritualistic siesta. Even though some of the stores downtown stay open, most vendors are asleep behind the counter and are startled when interrupted by a crazy gringo like me.
I use the word “downtown” only in the sense of describing the center of town. All the roads in Puerto Lempira are dirt and laid out in rectangular patterns. They are made out of red clay and sand and covered with small stones. Every 20 yards or so are giant potholes capable of slowing even the testosterone-induced drag races of teenagers on dirt bikes. At the northern end of our road lies the 300-yard long municipal dock. It accommodates the two 60-foot freighters that arrive each week bringing supplies to the whole region. If for some reason (like a hurricane) these ships couldn’t arrive, this place would shut down within two weeks since they produce nothing locally. Money from illegal drugs and the fishing industry keep this place thriving. When I first got here I commented to Roger Engle (an American missionary who has lived here since 1995) at how impressed I was with the new homes being built. He said they were all being funded with drug money.
From various interviews I’ve gleaned the following understanding of how the drug money gets here. Colombian drug lords send drugs in speedboats along the coast. It is rumored that men from here and Cauquira run gasoline out to the ocean at predetermined coordinates who refuel the passing boats which are enroute to both Mexico and the U.S. Occasionally at night they will push drugs wrapped in plastic bags out the window of a small plane over the lagoon in front of Puerto Lempira (Pte. L) or over the sides of their boats letting drugs wash up on the beach. Suddenly the waters fill with small boats searching for the drugs. The drug lords then send their men into nearby villages to buy up the drugs from those who confiscated them. They send word into Pte. L when they’ve arrived. Those stooges then forward them on to the next drop. They drug lords do this to avoid detection. The people who pick up the drugs out in the lagoon can legitimately claim they don’t where it came from. Everyone assumes government officials are on the take since it would be relatively easy to catch people who are abetting the traffickers. Given Honduras’ status as the second poorest nation in the western hemisphere, there exists very little financial incentive to resist this powerful temptation. You may remember an elderly woman (Mama Tada) at the run-down orphanage built over the water here in Pte. L in the film I showed after my trip in April. She was quoted publically as saying that the plastic bags filled with drugs that suddenly appear on the waters off shore are “gifts from God”.
The country’s legitimate exports include bananas, pineapples, coffee, and melons. But none of those are grown in this neck of the woods. It is quite depressing to see so many people just hanging out. Of course with so much idle time and money in their pockets, it doesn’t take long for people to get into trouble. Drug and alcohol addiction, very young girls getting pregnant, AIDS, incest, adultery, thievery and ubiquitous corruption are common fare. To wit, it is the perfect place for a missionary!
The “church” is no better off. Roger Engle told me that next to the Catholic Church, he considers the Moravian church to be the most corrupt religious institution in the country. The U.S. headquarters sent $200,000 here to fund the construction of a building that would house a Bible Institute where young men could prepare for ministry. Roger estimated the true cost to be less than $40,000. Around the time the institute was being built, many of the Moravian pastors began to erect luxurious homes of their own. Where did they get the money to build these new homes? The Institute has yet to open.
Ray Griggs worked as the accountant for the local Moravian church for two years. He uncovered so much misappropriation of funds that he flew to the U.S. to spill the beans. They told him they weren’t interested in the truth. Soon after he was fired by his local boss (the head of the Moravian church in Honduras) when he refused to ask the U.S. for more funds to replenish funds that had been diverted to other non-church projects. Ray says Honduran church leaders are expert at playing the U.S. missionaries and their supporting churches for every nickel they can get. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve already seen hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on projects that are absolutely fruitless. Most of the missionaries we’ve met (with the two notable exceptions of Roger & Katrina Engle and Ray & Laurel Griggs) are doing social work. Ray just returned two weeks ago from a conference where all the missionaries in the country convened to compare notes. Ray said it more closely resembled a meeting of the Untied Nations than a missionary gathering. He told me only one other missionary he met was actually engaged in sharing the gospel and planting new churches.
Just a 10-minute ride across the bay is an island. A middle-aged American couple moved out there this past February. They are a delightful couple. She’s a nurse and he’s a handyman. They spent 10 years in English-speaking Belize before spending last year in Guatemala at language school. Ray said they’ve spent at least $40,000 in making their house on the island livable. They don’t speak hardly a word of Spanish. They have yet to visit one church on the island. They have yet to treat one sick person since they’re expecting the villagers to walk around the island to their house. They ride their boat over here every other day to shop. Their main duty is to take care of Americans when they come to visit on short-term trips. All this because their Missions Board decided that land they purchased three years ago on the island and which had sat idle, had to have missionaries on it in order to receive continued funding.
I share all this to tell you how easy it would be to pack our bags and head home given the overwhelming corruption and apparent cluelessness of so many well-intentioned missionaries. Yet in the midst of this the Lord in His tender mercy has directed us to two couples who are focused on the will of God and who in the process are living testimonies of God’s love. He has guided us to a church where the Pastor and his wife felt called to the missions field to start a work in, of all places, Pte. L. This man left a prosperous job, three successful businesses he and his wife owned, while his wife left her successful job to come to an “end of the earth”. They have suffered death threats and setback after setback. He had never served in any capacity other than piano player in church. He has learned on his knees how to be a Pastor. He is a gifted worship leader. He is a humble, genuine man with no guile and total sincerity. He told me when he started out, he soon had 300 people attending since no other church in town had a band leading worship. As soon as he started to preach sanctification, the crowd dwindled to 30. When he called his pastor in tears saying, “Pastor I don’t know what to do. Everything I’m trying is failing”, his Pastor replied, “Excellent! Now the Lord can show what He wants you to try.” He’s told me he’s no longer interested in numbers. He’s interested in making disciples. That he is an effective preacher is evidenced in 100 high school students coming forward last month after he preached. The Honduran law says 10 minutes a day must be devoted to study of the Bible. Most schools ignore it. He has arranged with the local schools to accumulate the 10 minutes into 50 minutes on Friday when he, along with young members from the church, go and act out plays about the Gospel.
He and I met twice this week to review all the ministries of the church to determine where the Lord would have us work. Those ministries include: Men’s study group on Monday nights, Worship team, Intercessory Prayer team, Small Group meetings (Saturdays), New Believers Class, Sunday School classes, Youth Ministry, Women’s study group, the Acting (mime) High School and Elementary Groups and the Ushers (or greeting) group. My prayer since before coming here has been to only get involved in work that directly advances the kingdom of God. Everything we do here should have as its objective those commandments Jesus gave His disciples: to preach, teach, baptize, make disciples and love them as He has loved us. Roger and Katrina demonstrate Christ’s love in their work with malnourished, injured, abused an abandoned children. They share the Gospel with everyone who comes into their lives. Ray and Laurel share Christian principles as they come along side men and women in the villages searching for a way to make a living. Ray has started many village-based cooperatives. He insists they follow Biblical principles in all their business practices including determining which church they will tithe to as an organization before even starting the project. Christ-centered businesses prospering in the midst of a culture of corruption can be a powerful testimony to reality of the living God!
We get along very well with both couples who have really extended a warm welcome to us. We spent Thursday night at Ray’s house eating microwave popcorn as we watched the presidential debates live via satellite on CNN. Roger has taken us swimming twice. I’m blessed to see how well the girls are adjusting. Karen is really stepping up to the plate in terms of calmly dealing with the myriad challenges of life in the fast lane. All four of them were hiding on chairs after we came home two nights ago and Karen had spotted a “giant” spider. Wait ‘till they see their first tarantula or scorpion! You’ll probably be able to hear them scream up there at home.
We’ve all been blessed with good health so far. We love our new home and our landlord is a wonderful blessing. Both Karen and I have especially been blessed to be able to spend so much time in the word. We have a peace about our work here. We are not anxious or fearful. We fully trust that God will have His will done here in the Mosquitia. Our constant prayer is that we would be His hand extended and that He would receive all the Glory that is due Him. “Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord of hosts.” (Zech. 4:6) This has been the theme of our trip since before we left Syracuse. The Pastor repeated it last night as we prayed at the end of our meeting. Teach us Lord to wait upon you!
Sincerely, in Christ Jesus our Lord and Master,
Br. Ed
(aka life in the fast lane)
Friday 10.1.2004
We’ve been told since our arrival that this is the rainy season. Until yesterday, you could have fooled us as each day dawned cloudless and hot. The only way to go to bed without being covered in sweat was to take a bucket shower. Although there are faucets and a showerhead, they don’t work since there is no running water into the house. Once a day for about an hour in the afternoon, municipal water comes out of a small faucet resting atop a cistern built into the house on the small back porch. It looks to me as if it can hold anywhere from 25 to 50 gallons. We try to fill it each afternoon because the supply is irregular. When we do, swarms of mosquitoes come out from underneath the overhang. Karen tried putting some Clorox bleach into the water and that seemed to work for a time. But for some reason, last week there appeared thousands of them in our bathroom. We were afraid they would carry Bethany away. The heat of the afternoon sun causes at least 5 gallons to evaporate out of the cistern by sunset. All water comes into the house in a small plastic pink bucket. We use it to wash the dishes, flush the toilet and to fill our wash bucket in the shower. We scoop up water with a plastic coffee mug and pour it over our bodies to bathe. Both Karen and Michaela have resorted to first heating the water on the stove before using it to bathe with. I prefer the shock of the cold water especially since until yesterday, the heat had been insufferable. It renders one lifeless by mid-day. Of course, this is what drives people into beds and hammocks for the ritualistic siesta. Even though some of the stores downtown stay open, most vendors are asleep behind the counter and are startled when interrupted by a crazy gringo like me.
I use the word “downtown” only in the sense of describing the center of town. All the roads in Puerto Lempira are dirt and laid out in rectangular patterns. They are made out of red clay and sand and covered with small stones. Every 20 yards or so are giant potholes capable of slowing even the testosterone-induced drag races of teenagers on dirt bikes. At the northern end of our road lies the 300-yard long municipal dock. It accommodates the two 60-foot freighters that arrive each week bringing supplies to the whole region. If for some reason (like a hurricane) these ships couldn’t arrive, this place would shut down within two weeks since they produce nothing locally. Money from illegal drugs and the fishing industry keep this place thriving. When I first got here I commented to Roger Engle (an American missionary who has lived here since 1995) at how impressed I was with the new homes being built. He said they were all being funded with drug money.
From various interviews I’ve gleaned the following understanding of how the drug money gets here. Colombian drug lords send drugs in speedboats along the coast. It is rumored that men from here and Cauquira run gasoline out to the ocean at predetermined coordinates who refuel the passing boats which are enroute to both Mexico and the U.S. Occasionally at night they will push drugs wrapped in plastic bags out the window of a small plane over the lagoon in front of Puerto Lempira (Pte. L) or over the sides of their boats letting drugs wash up on the beach. Suddenly the waters fill with small boats searching for the drugs. The drug lords then send their men into nearby villages to buy up the drugs from those who confiscated them. They send word into Pte. L when they’ve arrived. Those stooges then forward them on to the next drop. They drug lords do this to avoid detection. The people who pick up the drugs out in the lagoon can legitimately claim they don’t where it came from. Everyone assumes government officials are on the take since it would be relatively easy to catch people who are abetting the traffickers. Given Honduras’ status as the second poorest nation in the western hemisphere, there exists very little financial incentive to resist this powerful temptation. You may remember an elderly woman (Mama Tada) at the run-down orphanage built over the water here in Pte. L in the film I showed after my trip in April. She was quoted publically as saying that the plastic bags filled with drugs that suddenly appear on the waters off shore are “gifts from God”.
The country’s legitimate exports include bananas, pineapples, coffee, and melons. But none of those are grown in this neck of the woods. It is quite depressing to see so many people just hanging out. Of course with so much idle time and money in their pockets, it doesn’t take long for people to get into trouble. Drug and alcohol addiction, very young girls getting pregnant, AIDS, incest, adultery, thievery and ubiquitous corruption are common fare. To wit, it is the perfect place for a missionary!
The “church” is no better off. Roger Engle told me that next to the Catholic Church, he considers the Moravian church to be the most corrupt religious institution in the country. The U.S. headquarters sent $200,000 here to fund the construction of a building that would house a Bible Institute where young men could prepare for ministry. Roger estimated the true cost to be less than $40,000. Around the time the institute was being built, many of the Moravian pastors began to erect luxurious homes of their own. Where did they get the money to build these new homes? The Institute has yet to open.
Ray Griggs worked as the accountant for the local Moravian church for two years. He uncovered so much misappropriation of funds that he flew to the U.S. to spill the beans. They told him they weren’t interested in the truth. Soon after he was fired by his local boss (the head of the Moravian church in Honduras) when he refused to ask the U.S. for more funds to replenish funds that had been diverted to other non-church projects. Ray says Honduran church leaders are expert at playing the U.S. missionaries and their supporting churches for every nickel they can get. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve already seen hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on projects that are absolutely fruitless. Most of the missionaries we’ve met (with the two notable exceptions of Roger & Katrina Engle and Ray & Laurel Griggs) are doing social work. Ray just returned two weeks ago from a conference where all the missionaries in the country convened to compare notes. Ray said it more closely resembled a meeting of the Untied Nations than a missionary gathering. He told me only one other missionary he met was actually engaged in sharing the gospel and planting new churches.
Just a 10-minute ride across the bay is an island. A middle-aged American couple moved out there this past February. They are a delightful couple. She’s a nurse and he’s a handyman. They spent 10 years in English-speaking Belize before spending last year in Guatemala at language school. Ray said they’ve spent at least $40,000 in making their house on the island livable. They don’t speak hardly a word of Spanish. They have yet to visit one church on the island. They have yet to treat one sick person since they’re expecting the villagers to walk around the island to their house. They ride their boat over here every other day to shop. Their main duty is to take care of Americans when they come to visit on short-term trips. All this because their Missions Board decided that land they purchased three years ago on the island and which had sat idle, had to have missionaries on it in order to receive continued funding.
I share all this to tell you how easy it would be to pack our bags and head home given the overwhelming corruption and apparent cluelessness of so many well-intentioned missionaries. Yet in the midst of this the Lord in His tender mercy has directed us to two couples who are focused on the will of God and who in the process are living testimonies of God’s love. He has guided us to a church where the Pastor and his wife felt called to the missions field to start a work in, of all places, Pte. L. This man left a prosperous job, three successful businesses he and his wife owned, while his wife left her successful job to come to an “end of the earth”. They have suffered death threats and setback after setback. He had never served in any capacity other than piano player in church. He has learned on his knees how to be a Pastor. He is a gifted worship leader. He is a humble, genuine man with no guile and total sincerity. He told me when he started out, he soon had 300 people attending since no other church in town had a band leading worship. As soon as he started to preach sanctification, the crowd dwindled to 30. When he called his pastor in tears saying, “Pastor I don’t know what to do. Everything I’m trying is failing”, his Pastor replied, “Excellent! Now the Lord can show what He wants you to try.” He’s told me he’s no longer interested in numbers. He’s interested in making disciples. That he is an effective preacher is evidenced in 100 high school students coming forward last month after he preached. The Honduran law says 10 minutes a day must be devoted to study of the Bible. Most schools ignore it. He has arranged with the local schools to accumulate the 10 minutes into 50 minutes on Friday when he, along with young members from the church, go and act out plays about the Gospel.
He and I met twice this week to review all the ministries of the church to determine where the Lord would have us work. Those ministries include: Men’s study group on Monday nights, Worship team, Intercessory Prayer team, Small Group meetings (Saturdays), New Believers Class, Sunday School classes, Youth Ministry, Women’s study group, the Acting (mime) High School and Elementary Groups and the Ushers (or greeting) group. My prayer since before coming here has been to only get involved in work that directly advances the kingdom of God. Everything we do here should have as its objective those commandments Jesus gave His disciples: to preach, teach, baptize, make disciples and love them as He has loved us. Roger and Katrina demonstrate Christ’s love in their work with malnourished, injured, abused an abandoned children. They share the Gospel with everyone who comes into their lives. Ray and Laurel share Christian principles as they come along side men and women in the villages searching for a way to make a living. Ray has started many village-based cooperatives. He insists they follow Biblical principles in all their business practices including determining which church they will tithe to as an organization before even starting the project. Christ-centered businesses prospering in the midst of a culture of corruption can be a powerful testimony to reality of the living God!
We get along very well with both couples who have really extended a warm welcome to us. We spent Thursday night at Ray’s house eating microwave popcorn as we watched the presidential debates live via satellite on CNN. Roger has taken us swimming twice. I’m blessed to see how well the girls are adjusting. Karen is really stepping up to the plate in terms of calmly dealing with the myriad challenges of life in the fast lane. All four of them were hiding on chairs after we came home two nights ago and Karen had spotted a “giant” spider. Wait ‘till they see their first tarantula or scorpion! You’ll probably be able to hear them scream up there at home.
We’ve all been blessed with good health so far. We love our new home and our landlord is a wonderful blessing. Both Karen and I have especially been blessed to be able to spend so much time in the word. We have a peace about our work here. We are not anxious or fearful. We fully trust that God will have His will done here in the Mosquitia. Our constant prayer is that we would be His hand extended and that He would receive all the Glory that is due Him. “Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord of hosts.” (Zech. 4:6) This has been the theme of our trip since before we left Syracuse. The Pastor repeated it last night as we prayed at the end of our meeting. Teach us Lord to wait upon you!
Sincerely, in Christ Jesus our Lord and Master,
Br. Ed
posted by Eric Stephens at 17:07
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