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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