Que Rompe Tu Corazon?

– What Breaks Your Heart? –

One of the most frequent questions we are asked by visitors is,

“What is it like to be a missionary?”


To be a missionary is to pursue brokenness. It is first and foremost about love.  Love in the context of a relationship with God and with each other.  Everything we do is rooted in intimacy with Him and each other in Him. The greater the intimacy the greater our recognition of our dependence. Dependence on God is a to key success on the mission field.  It is the understanding that apart from relationship, the words “love” and “God” are meaningless.


Sometimes the gospel is more effectively preached with a smile, a hug or a small act of kindness that leaves people with questions rather than answers to questions they never asked.

Being a missionary means understanding that preaching a sermon and cleaning a toilet might be one in the same. 

Being a missionary means having set schedules that rarely pan out because like everyone else, missionaries are gifted and dysfunctional.  It is understanding that the patience spoken of in James 1:4 is an end and not just a means.


Some days begin at 3 AM in the back of a pick-up truck on a muddy road in the rain and end at 10pm in the same.  Others might start at 10 and end at 3.  Sometimes we are hot, hungry thirsty and sick.  Sometimes we are cool, relaxed and full of energy.  Sometimes we have electricity and water.  Sometimes we don’t.  The periodic absence of first world comforts begets a greater sense of gratitude for the little comforts we once took for granted.


Being a missionary means not punching a time clock

or looking for one to punch. 


It means not coveting Friday and a bigger paycheck.  It means not working for the next vacation or retirement. It means not being afraid of being late or failing to perform. It means not being distracted by materialism, the latest styles or trends or the busyness of first world life. It means not being consumed by sports, politics and sewer-stream news.

It means keeping the eternal end in mind.

It is freedom from fear of suffering and the death that no one escapes.

Being a missionary means being willing to live in the desert, proverbial and literal rather than paradise.

Being a missionary means more than being a humanitarian.

It means honoring an old man or  shaking a hand dripping with slime at the dump knowing that you can wash your hands, but he can’t and may die because of it.

It means traveling for an entire day to hug a suffering child.

Spirit break out.mp4.00_03_18_04.Still015

It means paying attention to the little things, those who don’t matter to the world.


It means understanding the words of Mother Teresa,

“the most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.”

That these words apply to eternity.

That eternity apart from God is the quintessence of loneliness.

We can tell people ad infinitum that Jesus loves them, put on our best Jesus smile and our best Jesus act in hopes that they will see Jesus in us and raise their hand at an alter call.maxresdefault We can pat ourselves and each other on the back in celebration of decisions for Jesus on a given day.

But at the end of the day it’s about us seeing Jesus in them, “in the least of these” in the ONE in front of us.Gerson2.mp4.00_00_47_03.Still010

It means staying in touch with what breaks God’s heart. 


There is a reason that it is written twenty-three times in the New Testament that Jesus had compassion.  Compassion (literally to suffer with) is the door to God’s heart.  Knowing what breaks His heart is the key to intimacy with Him.  Intimacy with Him is the path to joy in Him.  Being a missionary is about joy. It is the freedom to follow the call of God we received as a fruit of our relationship with Him.  It is a freedom that comes with the knowledge and understanding that if we delight ourselves in Him he will give us the desires of our Heart, of His heart.  He has.

To be a missionary means to be fully human.

To be human is to be paradoxical.

The blessing is in the brokenness.

Que Rompe Tu Corazon?

I Am Josue

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I often think of Mrs. P, my first-grade teacher.  She was a sweet lady, at least as far as I could tell.  I don’t remember her saying very much, only kids running around yelling, tipping over desks and chairs and a girl named Kathy who  barked and bit kids on the leg during class.  It was a pretty wild scene.  One of our favorite games was to steal Mrs. P’s stapler that she tried so hard to hide and staple each other anywhere we could.  As for me, I liked science and sword fighting.  And I still have a pencil lead from a sword fight with Steven Adams stuck in my hand.  What I remember most is being filled with energy and craving contact.

I loved to hurl my body at things especially the floor. 

Beyond that, school was pretty boring. Reading was boring.  Math was boring.  Sitting at a desk among rows of other desks while Mrs. P talked and pointed on her overhead projector was boring.  My teachers thought I was impaired.  In fact, one day Mrs. E, my special ED reading teacher threw her book down in exasperation and exclaimed: “Brian, you are the stupidest boy I’ve ever seen!”  My mother was pretty angry about that.  I didn’t quite understand all the hoopla.  Reading was boring, and I couldn’t have cared less about Jane and her dumb dog Spot.   I never saw Mrs. E after that.

One day Mrs. P put her head down on her desk and started sobbing.  No one knew why.  So they took her away.  I never saw or heard from her again either.  I never gave any of this much thought until I was older.  Now that I am an adult and have  suffered my share of pain my heart hurts for them, and I wonder what was the cause of their pain?

My life as a six-year-old was in retrospect, a hyperactive mental fog.  Only I didn’t know I was in a fog.  I didn’t know that I was hyperactive either.  It just felt right to run around crashing into things and laughing until my belly hurt.

Getting in trouble for it wasn’t fun.

I just always seemed to forget what getting in trouble was like until I was in trouble.

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Even so, I did eventually learned to read on an eleventh grade level by the time I was nine, thanks that is to my mother and some books about the solar system. It turns out books about planets and stars were a lot more interesting than ones about Dick and Jane watching Spot run.

Josue is one of our special kids at the City of Refuge. He’s also one of our favorites. He is intensely friendly.

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Actually, Josue is intensely intense and sometimes inappropriate. He’s one of the inspirations for a recent “good touch-bad touch” class for the 4-8-year olds.
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Josue loves to laugh and connect his body to people and things in impactful ways and at high speeds.
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He will love you if you play with him.

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But beware, he’s very focused when he’s in impact mode and has been known to pee at the most inopportune times. I find It’s best just to smile when this happens and act as if it also happens to me. After all, urine is sterile, and a little soap takes it right out.

Shame can last a lifetime.

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If you’ve seen our videos, then you know that Josue’s mom was killed while attempting to immigrate to the United States.  That left his dad, Josue and his brother alone.  There’s no social safety net in Honduras,

and single parents are often faced with choosing between working to provide for their children or keeping them safe. 


So they come to us.

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Josue has some type of yet to be defined learning disability.

Or so they say.

What we know is that Josue is a worshipper

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He’s Cathy’s flagging partner on “Soaking” nights and other worship times.  And If Cathy is on her knees praying then Josue probably is too.
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He also loves to sing. He doesn’t always get the words right, but his heart is definitely in it.
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While Josue does prefer impact related types of interactions, calm tactile, kinesthetic activities can be magical too.
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We’ve found that there’s almost always a way to meet kids where they are and redirect their behavior based on their strengths instead of reacting to their negative behavior

in terms of how it makes us look or feel in the moment.

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This is what opens the door to relationship and trust.  Relationship with an adult who knows and loves God is often the key to a child’s future relationship with God.

There are several Honduran staff members who think that Josue does not belong here, that he’d be better served if he were in an orphanage with more kids like him.  I’m not sure if I buy that.  But then I’m not in charge, and it’s not my call.  Life in Honduras is hard.

It’s a place where suffering, not success is expected.  Honduran children become strong and resilient, or they don’t survive let alone thrive. 

My own approach is rooted in one of the most poignant lessons I learned as an adolescent substance abuse counselor.  That 60% of any change that takes place during treatment is the result of  relationship.  Nothing else we say or do matters apart from the connection that is established through relationship.  It’s a connection that frequently cannot be established with words alone.

More often than not what kids like Josue need is a good strong hug, one that squeezes them hard and doesn’t let go, one that says we aren’t going to give up on you

and you can not make us “unlove” you.

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Some people imagine missionaries as human fire hydrants pumping Bible verses into people who never heard the gospel.
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Others imagine missions as an endless activity.  The harder they are serving and the more they accomplish in the natural, the more spiritual they feel especially if the working hurts.  Still, others see it as formulaic as if we’re a syllabus based curriculum.  Granted there is a time and place for all of these things, and they do serve a purpose.  But long-term missions is different and more like regular life albeit under harsher physical conditions.
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For me the answer to the question; what does it take and what is it like to be a missionary lies with Josue.  I identify with Josue.  I can empathize with how he feels when he’s hurling himself on the ground, when he’s excited, when he’s causing trouble, when he’s in trouble.  I can see his heart and his love for God.  I can comprehend God’s love for Josue

and in that comprehension I can understand God’s love for me.

So often people arrive here with an honorable desire to serve those whom they see as worse off than themselves.  While this is often the case in the natural, Jesus exalted the poor, mother Teresa strived to identify herself with them, and the Sermon on the mount is pretty clear that the material world  is not the Kingdom.  Please don’t be mistaken. I’m not saying that living in a grass hut with a dirt floor and eating worms will bring you closer to God. That would mean that leaving people to suffer is the best way to help them.  That’s what Hindus and Buddhists believe.  What I’m saying is that God will bring a person closer to Himself through their identification with Him in the life, suffering, and joys of another.  Whom that person or group is is entirely up to Him.  Our job as missionaries is to know Him well enough to recognize His voice when he speaks through the life of a child here at the City of Refuge, an old man in the community, a single mother in the dump or the teenage girl next door who simply wants to stay in school. The definition and key to being a long-term missionary for me today is found in Josue.  Because at the end of the day,

I am Josue.

Pips, Probability and Presupposition

It’s been awhile since I last blogged and after writing this one I think people might be better served if it were a chapter in a book.  I guess I tend to have a lot to say.


The most important job that I have as a missionary is not to merely fight poverty and injustice.  It is to plant seeds that lead others to Christ and pull weeds that prevent it.

This is a weed pulling post.

Ironically, while I am serving as a missionary in Honduras and sometimes facing weighty and scary things, I often find myself thinking and writing with those in mind whom we left behind.  Friends and family who will probably never even glance at this blog.  At least while I am alive. People whom I love.  People who see Jesus as just another guy and the Gospel as a lovely little fairy.  Others have rejected  Jesus and the gospel as the result of some misunderstanding or an offense. Some believe that they are Christians yet have no real idea of what that even means. Some think they are smarter.  Some are headed for significant crises. Some have gone off the cliff in the past and are headed there again.  Still, the lives and worldviews of others have drifted so far from mine that it’s nearly impossible converse on topics more in-depth than “hey how’s the weather over there.”  So I don’t.  Not because I can’t or won’t engage but because I don’t dare ask the wrong question for fear that an already strained relationship will come to a cantakerous end. Our society is fast losing the ability to debate differing worldviews with the honest truth as its goal without becoming offended at the passion of another then refusing to forgive and engage again.  Then again, I’m probably writing all this for the sake of posterity anyway.  Lord knows I would love to read the blogs of my own grandparents and great-grandparents.

'Grandpa, what's peace?'

Yeah I’m writing to my future great grandchildren which suddenly makes writing this completely worthwhile.

But before you read on let me ask you one question.

If the claims about Jesus and the Gospel were true; would you become a Christian?

There is a scene in Mel Gibson’s “Passion of the Christ” that I find particularly poignant if not eerie.  It is the scene where Pontius Pilate obviously disturbed by the decision facing him, contemplates the fate of Jesus with his wife Claudia by his side.  Claudia asks Pilot about the truth to which Pilot replies “What is “truth?”


Sometimes it seems that money a.k.a “mammon” and those things related to it are the only real truths in this world.

I’m sure you are aware of the multitudes of financial advisors and investment opportunities online.  All are selling a product or service that usually amounts a belief in what they believe.

They always make money.

Sometimes their clients do too which compels others to hop on the proverbial moving train destined for future wealth.  The more people on the train, the more people want to jump on the train.  Funny thing is most if not all these people have no real understanding of why they are on the train.


If they are making money, they assume they made the smart decision.  Besides, It feels more secure to ride the train with lots of other people.  I mean that many people couldn’t be wrong. Right?  The more people on the train, the faster and higher it goes until, for reasons usually only understood in hindsight, such as there were too many people on the train, it doesn’t, and everything comes crashing down. What traders call “smart money” jumps off the train with the loot while the regular people  otherwise known as “dumb money” loses badly.


“People are destroyed for lack of knowledge”  regarding what drives markets and more importantly, themselves.

I first watched this happen with Real Estate in 2007 when I was beginning to learn about trading and markets. My friends just laughed at me and called me a “buzz kill” when I tried to pop their bubbles by warning them that money is never free, and it was crazy to buy.  You know the story. The bubble popped, and my friends rode the train with myriad others off the edge of the cliff.


1 and 4


All markets move in three directions. Up, down and sideways.  That gives speculative currency traders a 33.3 percent chance of scoring some “Pips” (price points on a chart) without doing anything more than clicking a mouse.  “Sounds like gambling,” you say. Perhaps.

Traders gather technical and or economic fundamental evidence to form or confirm a presupposition that they hope will increase their chances of success. But presupposition is often the enemy of analysis.  As humans we tend to see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear and filter out the rest.

The ability to suspend emotion and presupposition is the key to placing a potentially successful trade.



I won’t burden you with the technical details of my trading tales. I’ll simply give you the conclusions to the lessons I learned that apply to life in general.

1. You can do all the right research and gather all the proper evidence that supports your presupposition regarding a particular trade and make a fortune.

You can then repeat the same steps and lose everything you have. You can also do everything wrong and be wrong. Then repeat the same steps and make a fortune.

In the end, there is only one guarantee. There is no guarantee, just probability.

2. The most important and only things you can know, understand and control are your own emotions and cognitive biases.





While they certainly didn’t like it, even sixth graders I counseled understood the reality of no guarantees. Which is another way of saying,

“sorry Dorothy but life is not fair.”

For example, the odds of safely crossing the street are relatively good, provided I look both ways and listen carefully. Still, they are never one hundred percent. Those odds decrease as I remove those safety precautions. They get awful if I take stupid risks like wearing earplugs or a blindfold. Even so, there is also no guarantee I will fail.

That’s where gambling comes in.


Ironically human beings are predictable and easy to manipulate because we prefer moving trains that are full and we live in a world where three blindfolded people can get run over by a car, and there will still be those who want to cross the street blindfolded. They will usually focus on the fourth, the exception, not the rule, the one that didn’t get hit believing that they are like him. “That’s not reality,” you say “that’s hypothetical. Ok, I’ll give you that. But what do you think happens when an extra strong load of heroin hits the street and kills ten people in a week? Sales go up exponentially. That’s what happens. Or a subprime mortgage broker tells people he can put them in a million-dollar house today and they don’t even need a job? “Well, that’s dumb.” You say. It is. It’s also not hypothetical, and several people whom I know are betting their destinies against odds like just like these.


In my experience, most people don’t particularly like the idea that life in the natural world is inextricably rooted in probability and that a handful of people on earth are smart enough to manipulate them into gradually surrendering all their wealth and power. People want the feeling of security even if they are not secure. So, they assemble tidbits of info that they have read or been told. They call these tidbits facts and then base their life choices on them. Which is fine if you are buying hair products, vitamins or maybe organic lettuce as the risk versus reward ratio isn’t going to be that far out of whack. But risking one’s future or that of a nation by the same method?

Alas but “What is truth?” says the king.


Pontius Pilate had nothing against Jesus and knew He was innocent.  He could have protected Jesus but He didn’t.
Most people do their utmost to avoid Pilot’s predicament. Standing for truth can be dangerous. It’s a lot easier to jump on a passenger-filled train especially when you are pressured to so so from the very start.


For example, if you’re a staunch conservative then you probably have conservative friends in real life and on online. You get your news from Drudge, and you might listen to FOX. If you’re a dedicated liberal, then Buzzfeed and the Huffington Post might be more your speed along with CNN and MSNBC.

Ironically it doesn’t seem to matter much that nearly all major media outlets and their narratives are controlled by about six corporations; all of whom have the same basic goal.


Those on opposite sides of the proverbial aisle might be stupid Christian, racist, homophobic, misogynist, fascist pigs or they could be stupid God-hating, radical, communist, ANTIFA punks depending on your side

or should I say, tribe?

This bias, whichever bias it may, be is further confirmed in conversations among peers who agree with each other. They call this agreement consensus and pretend that consensus implies truth. Rarely does anyone in an opposing camp respectfully discuss or present evidence for their viewpoint. Rarely does anyone know or understand the history or philosophy of democracy, socialism, communism, fascism or free market economics let alone subjects like, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity or Atheism. They only know what they have been taught. They only know what they have been told. What they have been taught is right. What they haven’t been taught is wrong.  Nine times out of ten neither side has a clue about the reasoning, if it exists at all, of the other.  Sort of like when I hear Christian friends passionately declare that “Buddha isn’t God!” Thanks, guys. The Buddhists know that.  Or non Christian claims that Christians are evil because of what so called Christians did in the crusades.  Some people also think Adolf Hitler was a Christian because he liked to quote Romans 13.  But Hitler was an occultist. The Knights Templar were too. Like I said people generally only believe what they have been taught.


Think I’m exaggerating? Answer this.

Is the earth flat or round?

Now tell me why you believe whatever you believe without basing your argument on something you’ve read, seen on TV or been told. Hmmm…
If you like this mental Rubik’s Cube sort of thing and are a glutton for punishment, you might listen to some of the flat earth theories on YouTube. For the record, I am not a flat “earther.” I’m not sure I can give a reasonable explanation according to the criteria above.  But don’t be stupid!  It’s round! Ok?!

That said, I am impressed with the flat “earthers” ability to provide evidence for what they believe.

I have similar respect for Jehovah’s Witnesses, Muslims, and some Atheists. I have less of this type of respect for some of my so called Christian brethren.  And oh yeah, ANTIFA.


I like science a lot too. Not the pop culture version of those who say,

“I don’t believe in God, I believe in science.”

'No, this is its nucleus, not its cell phone.'

Sorry guys. Science is a method. God is an entity. Science is a way of gathering evidence and arriving at a theory of what might be true based on the evidence at hand. Science is by definition, never settled. Hence the earth that Al Gore convinced so very many was about to burst into flames due to an over abundance of atmospheric tree foodar124649772288326

may actually be cooling unless of course you think it’s warming. None of us knows for sure and those who say they believe in science really only believe in scientists.  That said, it sure feels like Al Gore’s breath in Honduras right now.  Turns out time frames and locations matter in climate science as well as trading and they can really fudge your analysis too.

But I’m getting off track.

For the record;  I’m not a fossil fuel fan.


In fact, I think we should plant more trees, and everything should be solar powered. I just happened to know about  the derivative based Chicago Carbon Exchange and the humongous wealth consolidating trade that old Al was creating for himself and his friends.


Sorry Al. Actually I’m not that sorry.



That said, even the assumption that light holds the speed record in all of creation at 186,000 miles per second upon which much of our initial understanding of quantum physics is rooted, is now in question.


And gravity? We still don’t know what the heck that stuff is.

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One week it’s dark matter the next is the graviton and the next there is no gravity because we are living inside a computer program. In every case, people present convincing arguments. And every time the tidbit gatherers gather their tidbits,  and present them as facts. Sometimes the “facts” seem true and others who want to be in the know jump on the moving train. The only thing we know for sure despite the efforts of physicists at CERN is that no one has ever seen dark matter or a graviton or even the devoutly worshipped

God Particle.



As for the computer program theory; I think I saw a movie about that once.


I actually prefer that one because a computer program implies a computer creator and a computer programmer. And besides, it supports my presuppositions about existence. Why?! Because I think it’s true that’s why!! Back off!! What are you some liberal God-hater?

I’m sure you get the point.



Lots of people swear by the theory of macroevolution too even though it is easily proven that “macro,” not to be confused with “micro” evolution is not science. The fossil record has yet to confirm what Charles Darwin said must be established if his theory of the origin of species is correct. And the idea that life could merge from primordial slime is not even mathematically possible let alone scientifically probable.


Yet millions, if not billions, of people, hold onto these presuppositions as indisputable facts. They are not. In fact, many of them require a lot more faith than do the claims of Christianity.

Can I prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is true? Of course not.

But neither can anyone else confirm that it is not. This a point is frequently missed in your normal “I believe in science” versus a supernatural God debate.  In the end, it, all comes down to faith. Faith in one’s presuppositions and the probability of their accuracy. The truth is that most of us are just looking for something  real to believe in.  Because at the end of the day our natural lives here on earth are rooted in chance, pure probability, a proverbial roll of the dice.

As I see it, the only real game changer would have to be a supernatural one.

Stay tuned or maybe tune out if this bores you. I’ll be planting seeds more than pulling weeds in subsequent posts and presenting the evidence that supports my own presuppositions and experience regarding the reality of an awesome and all loving supernatural God.

Be blessed



Vapor on A Mote Of Dust


In May of 1990, the Voyager 1 spacecraft first launched in 1977, returned the final pixels of the now famous photo known as “The Pale Blue Dot,” the earth from over six billion kilometers away suspended in a single ray of sunlight.  Ironically, it was Carl Sagan, an atheist himself, whose words are most often quoted.
“That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.”
That anyone could look at that picture and remain an atheist baffles me not because of the size of the earth, but because of the level of hubris and pride, it requires a tiny little vaporous human (Psalm 39:5) to declare that there is no God and all of creation came into being by chance.

You have probably heard about the political turmoil in Honduras.  Some of you know we have stopped posting about the crisis on Facebook and are wondering why.  Basically, we do not want to be viewed as having a political opinion in a country where foreigners can be deported for expressing one.   We are here to bring the love of Jesus regardless of who is in power. Suffice it to say that there is nothing new under the sun. Current disagreements are severe, resentments run deep, and people are dying mostly in major cities in, and as a result of protests.  Regular world media news outlets are near worthless as they are only reprinting each other’s old news as new news. But word on the street has it that there is growing anti-American sentiment, and the situation is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.  I’m listening, via Facebook live as I write, to the former Honduran president who was removed in a coup de tat in 2009 accuse Americans of being assassins and here to kill Hondurans. He keeps talking about civil war and Honduran youth who are not afraid to fight and to give their lives. He says he’s not afraid to fight and die because he is a Christian.  That’s different.  Whether or not the situation erupts into a full-scale civil war is anybody’s guess.  We live in the original “Banana Republic” a term O’Henry coined to describe Honduras in the 19th Century and is still used today to describe countries plagued by chronic political and socioeconomic instability.

Even so, we are trying to be wise and prepare as best we can. The key for us is to remain faithful to the call while being aware yet not consumed by news and outward circumstances.  After all
“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”  (Luke 12:6-7)

We are having a blast loving on the kids here and preparing for Christmas.  Every day is an adventure. This week we drove three hours into the mountains on an outreach where we got stranded for the day because our vehicle broke down.  To be honest I have never been on a trip in that particular vehicle when we have not broken down.


It’s almost a tradition.   Anyway, we worshiped God and walked and laughed a lot.  The next day the kids who were with us couldn’t stop talking about how fun it was. That’s just normal life on the mission field.


Which brings me to the topic of tares.  Or wheat and tares to be more precise.  There’s been a fair amount of discussion regarding Jesus’ parable of these in Mat 13:24-30.  Good people versus bad people is the most simplistic explanation.  The problem is that bad people are often regular people doing bad things that they believe are right or good. The protestors kidnapping, stripping and torturing four police officers feel justified in their actions just as the Army feels justified in shooting protestors dead in the streets.  So, it’s got to be deeper than that.  The most poignant “ah-ha” moment for me regarding this topic was when I viewed a photograph of wheat and tares growing together in a field.  They both look pretty much the same except the tares grew up straight and tall as if reaching for heaven as they matured while the wheat by its side bowed low toward the soil from which it came.  The issue appears to be one of pride versus humility.


Maybe it’s just my perception, but it seems that the most powerful people in our world are often the most prideful. Pride is the real original sin and it only makes sense that it would be rewarded in a fallen world.  The prideful do what benefits them, and their circle of supporters be it large or small because their supporters benefit them.  All of them speak in terms of the greater good, but at the end of the day, they like people who agree with them, help people who help them and undermine or destroy those who don’t.  Some are more vociferous in their approach while others remain passive aggressive.
There’s always an opposition to those in power and a proverbial boogie man created or invoked to manipulate the public’s emotion. The opposition attacks those in power because they have too much power and the narrative is always rooted in helping the less fortunate and making unfairness fair.  In reality, they just want power for themselves.  So, they use anger and fear and the promise of greater wealth and power for the underprivileged to awaken the most primal tribal instincts that exist within us all. Then they rally their supporters like football fans most of whom have no idea that they are being sent into the streets as pawns to protest and maybe die for what they don’t understand.  The protests become increasingly violent, those in power react with force which sparks more anger and violence in the broader population and civil war ensues.  Too often civil war leads to genocide. Sometimes those in power continue to dominate.  Sometimes the oppressed gain the upper hand only to become the oppressors themselves.  Then the cycle repeats with a new generation that believes they are different and are doing something that has never been done.  Ironically one of the opposition mottos here now is “This time they picked the wrong generation.” The truth is that governments are the number one cause of death for human beings throughout history.  Governments composed of men and women, tiny little tares standing tall with terrific pride, believing that they have or are the answer.


Perhaps Ravi Zacharias put it best in a conversation with Hamas leaders, whom many if not most people I know would describe as evil.


“…But the last day, I saw one of the leaders of Hamas, one of the four founders. I went there for one reason; I had one question for him. He gave us a great meal, told us of eighteen years he’d served in prison, some of his children had been lost in suicide bombings, and this and that. And I had a question. I said, “Sheik, I may never see you again and forgive me if I’m asking you the wrong question. Please tell me, what do you think of suicide bombing and sending your children out like that?” I didn’t like his answer. I couldn’t say much. The room was full of smoke.

After he finished his answer, I said, “Sheik, you and I may never see each other again, so I want you to hear me. A little distance from here is a mountain upon which Abraham went 5,000 years ago to offer his son. You may say the son was one; I may say it’s another. Let’s not argue about that. He took his son up there. And as the ax was about to fall, God said, ‘Stop.’” I said, “Do you know what God said after that?” He shook his head. I said, “God said, ‘I myself will provide.’” He nodded his head. I said, “Very close to where you and I are sitting, Sheik, is a hill. Two thousand years ago, God kept that promise and brought his own Son, and the ax did not stop this time. He sacrificed his own Son.”

I said, “Sheik, I just want you to hear this. Until you and I receive the Son God has provided, we’ll be offering our own sons and daughters on the battlefields of this world for many of the wrong reasons.”


I know that he is right.

None of us here knows if the current perturbation of tares will continue to escalate.  If civil war comes, I won’t be surprised. Nor will I be surprised if it doesn’t.  We continue to draw closer to God regardless of, not because of circumstances.  Many are praying, hoping, believing for a cycle of economic growth and prosperity here and there’s lots of talk of revival mainly by Americans. But I’m not so sure that is the way things are going to play out.  Not at first anyway.  God’s ways are not our ways; His thoughts are not our thoughts. Historically, revival is preceded by repentance and repentance by a crisis that makes society aware of its need.  We usually don’t like that part.  But the Bible promises perilous times not just prosperous ones and the abundance we are promised is abundance in Him, not the world. Maybe that’s why we are seeing some of the most profound spiritual breakthroughs in our kids right now. Some that were a hair’s width away from being kicked out of here last year are on fire now preaching and leading worship and being an absolute joy to be around.  The youngest kids are utterly overflowing with love and Holy Spirit, and they love to praise and worship God with all their hearts.  Last night they joined together to pray for Honduras.  We saw the same thing happen this time last year with Carolyn Figlioli and her South Sudanese Refugee kids when we were in Africa.

When I think of the wheat and tares I need to remember that not only does wheat bow down as it is grown, wheat is grown to be cut down then ground and baked in a fire. Only then can it become bread that nourishes others.  I want to be bread.  But I won’t lie.  I’m no rock star martyr of the faith, and I get scared, even freaked out at times especially if I think someone I love is in danger. Christlike would probably not not be the best description of my attitude and behavior when this happens, and I am out of faith.  I sometimes wonder how I will handle the real fire if and when it comes.

But God…

The answer to everything in missions always comes back to  intimacy with God.  It’s not your work ethic or the money and stuff that you bring. Those are all good. But when the rubber meets the road the only thing that really matters is how much oil you have in your lamp.

At any rate, we are planning a special mac and cheese and chicken nugget dinner with chocolate cake party with our 5-8-year-olds as well as our usual soaking (worship) night with everyone here.  We are still making plans to host short-term missionaries which seems kind of crazy at times. But tomorrow is never promised to anyone anywhere.  So, we remain focused and love what matters most in this vaporous life upon a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam “among the stars that He numbers and calls by name” Psalm 147


Great Expectations, Transitions, and Enantiodromia

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the lessons learned in twelve years of running a transitional house for furloughed inmates and ten years as an adolescent substance abuse counselor in Hawaii. This is certainly due in part to my having encountered so many members of visiting mission teams who are considering doing something similar and have asked for advice. Perhaps a more significant reason is that despite my expectations that I would be doing something vastly different here in Honduras we are frequently called upon to help deal with some of the very same issues. At any rate here are two hard yet indispensable truths and one paradox that are vital to those experiencing a call to backyard missions like running a transitional home.
If you follow our blog you may have noticed that I am a fan of etymology. I love to drill down into the original meanings of certain words. Ironically it only took me twelve years to look up the word “transition” which is from the 15th-century Latin “transitionem” “a going across or over”. In my mind “going across or over” implies traversing some challenge or obstacle and not necessarily an immediate metamorphoses or change. It also suggests the idea of a bridge. Bridges get walked on, driven on, rained on, jumped on, sometimes urinated on… People don’t thank a bridge, stop to have a picnic on a bridge or set up sales, information booths or churches on a bridge. In fact, most people are only concerned with what lies on the other side. People typically only pay attention to bridges when they fail or appear to be at risk of failing.
Which brings me to the first hard truth that I’d like to impart.
Counselors, missionaries and transitional houses are bridges. Most of the positive change that you will see in people if you see any at all will likely happen after they leave you behind. This can be discouraging particularly if you are confused about your identity and relationship with God such that pride takes root in your soul. Our job is not to fix, change or save people. Our job is to be a bridge from certain destruction to some greater semblance of hope which for some might be yet another bridge. The principle also applies when helping orphans or counseling substance abuse clients. Many of us pay lip service to this truth only to suffer burn out due to unmet expectations and or we assume too much responsibility for long-term outcomes. We need to remind ourselves and each other that we are bridges that some will refuse to cross regardless of how much or how hard we pray. Others will never fully appreciate our efforts until years later when they look back and realize what was provided for them and that they could never have made it across without our help. However, the likely hood that we will be around to hear their gratitude is slim at best. Still, there are others who will jump, fall off or otherwise fail to make it to the other side. In this case, you can be sure that you will be blamed by someone and perhaps investigated or sued. Keep in mind that Jesus described Himself among other things as the Way. A student is not above his master or a servant above his Lord. What they did to him they will probably do to you.
Hard truth number two is that we plant seed, and we water seed in faith. Many seeds are “Storm Seeds”.
Our transitional home was in Hawaii, and we always had a garden of some sort. One year I planted squash which normally grows like a weed and for whatever reason, nothing would grow. So, I planted again, but still, nothing would grow. I had pretty much given up when a massive storm and days of torrential rains hit us. Everything was washed out. It was about a week later when I noticed a new squash plant growing about fifty feet from where I had planted it. Sometimes a big enough storm is required to make the seed you plant grow. I never questioned the seeds I planted in soil or in people after that. We plant seed and we water seed in faith. We do not make things change or grow. That is God’s job. The challenge is not to give up planting and watering when the fruit we desire fails to appear at the time of our choosing.
Enantiodromia is a term first coined by Heraclitus and often attributed to Carl Jung describing the tendency of things to change into their opposites. Sort of the way a pendulum swing exhausts its momentum in one direction and swings the other way. The distance it swings in one direction determines how far it goes in the other. While Jung seems to get most of the credit, I think it was Jesus who described it first. “The first shall be last and the last shall be first” and “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”. People in transition be they orphans or inmates are not the final versions of themselves. They are in a process of dying to themselves and their old way of life. This process can be extremely messy. Another problem is that people in transition have a unique way of making others want to quit helping them and sometimes even throw them over the side of the proverbial bridge. Never the less, as in the case of a pendulum swing, sometimes the change begins at the very peak of a person’s so-called badness.
Jake (not his real name) was one of many seemingly incorrigible inmates that the warden of our local jail sent to us through the years. Unsalvageable was the term he used. Jake was a shot caller in the Hawaii gang known as the USOs (pronounced ooso). He was a collector and a strong arm which means he’d probably killed people or at least came very close to it. He engaged in pornography production with young women and even impregnated one of my former Teen Care clients. The drugs he sold went to local kids and also probably contributed to some of my other clients who died. There was absolutely nothing good about Jake when he came to live with us. Not only did he do nothing to help anyone with anything ever but he also helped himself to everyone else’s possessions and food. The other inmates would never complain because they were terrified of him. Never the less Jake heard the gospel, watched our walk and listened to myriad apologetic lectures regarding the abundant, clean and sober, crime-free lifestyle. As expected Jake immediately began dealing drugs, was caught and returned to jail. The last conversation I’d had was via text and amounted to a string of profanity insulting my intelligence and manhood which I printed and sent to the warden who posted it in the prison for everyone to see. Sometimes love doesn’t look all that loving in this realm. But that’s a topic for a future blog should there be enough interest in this one. Even so, I wasn’t angry or being vindictive. It says in Proverbs that a rebuke from a friend is sweeter than kisses from an enemy. I was merely doing what I could to facilitate the process that I had come to understand so well. It wasn’t long before Jake ‘s nineteen-year-old son joined him in prison and they became cellmates. Ironically, Jake ‘s own father had been murdered in that very same prison. Then something happened. Jake’s pendulum swing reached its peak as he came face to face with the reality of who and what he had become.
It was several years later and right before we were due to leave for the Harvest School of Missions in Pemba Mozambique that the doorbell rang. “Cathy?” I heard as I came around the corner. “Who the heck is this?” I thought. “Oh my gosh its Jake ” I yelled! “Come on in!” I said greeting him like a celebrity. Long story short it soon became clear that Jake was completely transformed. He’d gotten born again in prison and become a worship leader. He was completely repentant, and all he wanted to do was to make amends for what he did in our home. He laughed as he explained how he used to tell people that “Brian is boring! Christianity is boring!” He took full responsibility for all the wrongs he ever did, lead us in worship and prayed the most anointed prayer we’d heard in a very long time. Naturally, we invited him to move back in, and he became a manager and the spiritual covering for the house the entire time we were in Africa.
We have other comparable stories to reflect upon even if they pale in number to those who have not made it – yet. Even so throughout the years, the one thing that kept us going was the absolute and undeniable understanding that good, bad, ugly, or beautiful, God had placed His desires in our hearts and called us to love the unlovable. There were times when I – we so wanted to quit and even prayed to God asking Him to release us. Many times, we would ask ourselves “what if all of this was just for one or two people? Would we still do it?” To which one of us would invariably reply “how much is one life worth?”

Now we are missionaries. We continue to feed the poor in the dump, save and raise children. We counsel and clothe, support and serve and strive to be a voice for the voiceless. These are things people honor most and love to hear about. Yet I was hit with the most profound revelation at breakfast the other day. I realized that my perception of the poor dump people I once pitied from my prior, presumptuously, prideful place of material superiority had changed. I realized that I have come to see them as equals, people who were no different and perhaps even superior in some ways to me. I can’t explain it or provide any rational or apologetic argument for it because it was a deeply spiritual experience. Perhaps I am getting closer to understanding Mother Teresa when she said, “we serve the poor knowing that they will rule over us.” And that she always saw Jesus in the eyes of the poor and dying. I know I have already written similar things. I guess we are still in the midst of another “crossing over”. Our expectations are greater than ever now. Enantiodromia.

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The Paradox of Leaping

    The final uprooting of our lives on Kauai continues as we prepare to be transplanted to Honduras. Meanwhile it has become apparent that many of our friends and family are regarding us with a mixture of marvel and incredulity. Others just think we are insane. How in the world could we leave careers that we love, our family, grandchildren and friends? What kind of nut job spends their retirement on an obscure missionary school in Africa and then moves from the paradise where darn near everyone in the world dreams of visiting one day to live in a third world country with zero income? “What are you thinking?” they ask. “Aren’t you afraid?” Well, yes and no. The truth is; most of the people we know don’t have a grid for this. After all it’s basically the antithesis of the American dream.
    There is a scene in the film “The last Crusade” where Indiana Jones finds himself pinned to a cliff and faced with nowhere to go but across a bottomless chasm or down. It looks impossible and the internal battle plays itself out in his breathing and facial expressions as he closes his eyes in preparation for the inevitable plunge to his death. “It’s a leap of faith” he says as the camera zooms and freezes on his foot suspended in mid air. Then wincing, he steps or rather falls forward only to land on solid ground as a land bridge to the other side mysteriously appears. That’s a pretty fair description of how the process of becoming a full time missionary feels at times with the only difference being that Indiana Jones didn’t have the assurance and peace that comes with knowing Jesus.
    I realize the last statement might seem a bit pollyannic as we born again Christians are prone to sounding when we attempt to articulate our experiences with God. I certainly do not mean to imply that I have transcended normal human emotion and weakness or that I have all my ducks in a row. It’s just that that explaining Jesus to someone who has never encountered Jesus personally is like trying to explain a double rainbow over mountains in Hawai`i to a blind Eskimo in the Arctic. Why in the world should he believe you. Believe me I know.
    You see I didn’t grow up in the church and I didn’t like Christians when I was young. In fact I persecuted them more than any atheist I’ve ever known until I finally met Jesus at the barrel of a shotgun and landed in jail. Instead I struggled with alcohol and drug addiction for over 20 years. I basically tried everything you can think of to get clean all the while struggling to maintain a facade of functionality that was finally torn away in an instant. I was in a blind drunken rage and definitely not looking for Jesus when I charged a guy with shot gun all the while screaming “shoot me!” All I know for certain is that he fired. I saw a blinding white flash of light and a thought that was more like a voice roared through my mind “this is the last time!” The deeper implications of those words are too much to cover here but suffice it to say that I did not get shot even though he fired at point blank range and I never had a desire for a drink or a drug again. My point here is that I am not special in any worldly sort of way. I know where I came from and I know where I have been. I know that I know within the depths of my soul that everything I am, have and have achieved since that last drunken day has happened in spite of me and not because of me. 
    But that’s not all. I have other problems too. In fact I have an orphan spirit that periodically rises up within me. I am ashamed of it. Missionaries are not supposed to have it. If you mention it, I will almost always deny it. But it’s there. It is rooted in a time filled with rejection and abandonment. It manifests as a voice that says “don’t you dare ask for…you are a burden; a loser and everything you touch turns to $#@!” It is a mindset rooted in a lie that is itself the root of addiction, poverty and failure. It forever declares that God won’t provide even though He always has. It is a proverbial “thing” that pins me to a wall like Indiana Jones with nothing left to do but take the next step or die. It is something that must be confronted with faith and the revelation of my true identity as a son of the Most High God even though I might FEEL paralyzed with fear. In the end it is the actions we take often in spite of what we are thinking and feeling that determines what we actually believe. Jesus said to “seek first the Kingdom of God and all His righteousness and all these things will be added onto you” Mat 6:33. He did not say to get all your ducks in row before you go. Remembering our previous steps of faith as we overcome fear within the context of obedience to the call of God can require a serious leap yet it is also the source of paradoxical provision. 
    I suppose I could write a more flowery, testimony of faith filled with inspiring prophetic poetry. Honestly I’m still pretty rough around the edges. I also recently read that the top reasons people are turned off by Christianity is that they feel shunned by Christians who seem fake and act like they don’t have any problems. That’s not to say that all Christians are fakes only that the rule of approach determines response is always in play. My audience is often composed of people who are completely turned off by the church. So sometimes it’s best to just keep it real. Apparently the Apostle Paul thought so too. (2 Cor 11:30) 
    At the end of the day I’m not much different from you. I’m certainly not better because I’m going to live in third world country. If anything I’m probably worse. I just happen to be blessed with the knowledge of my need, that God’s miracles in my life have been the result my most glaring weaknesses and that my Father’s blessings for me in spite of me are proof of His great and abounding love for me. I’ve found freedom in gratitude and obedience beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve found peace in the midst of turmoil, His strength in my weakness, provision in poverty. I know there will be bumps in the road. I know there will be days when I want to quit. Heck I might even die. Even so, I fully expect that in writing this; I am laying the foundation for a powerful testimony of God’s guidance, provision and miracles in our mission one day. It is in losing our life that we will gain it. Mat 10:39.
    Taken in its most literal form, the missionary walk is as fantastically paradoxical as it is adventurous. It requires ridiculous supernatural assurance and trust that transcends discursive thought and emotion and makes absolutely no sense in the natural until after we take the leap; a leap of faith that gets a little easier each time we leap. I highly recommend it. But only leap to where you are called.

Anatomy Of The Call

We purchased this charcoal drawing  from a Sudanese Refugee during a Power and Love conference in 2010.  It depicts Sudanese Children awaiting a visit from an unnamed  U.S. congressman who they thought was going to save them and never showed.

People need redemption.  Even renowned atheist Mathew Parris, understood this when after returning from a visit to his boyhood home of Malawi he stated:

“I have come to a conclusion that staggers me.  The impact of the missionaries with their message of Jesus Christ with its redemptive foundation seems to be the only thing that has effectively worked in order to change the hearts of some against the other in their antipathy and hostility towards one another – the redemptive aspect seems indispensable to the transformation of this. I find myself surprising myself in having to the say this.”  “I truly believe Africa needs God”.

Christians understand this.  The book of Romans says that atheists do too.  The hunger of one’s heart must change before anything else will. It needs to change in Africa, in the Americas and everywhere else in the world.
People need Jesus and the fullness of  Holy Spirit. They need people to carry the message of their testimony. They need people to teach them and give them hope; people who will love them. In fact people need love more than anything else.  This is true regardless if one is living in a mansion in Beverly Hills or a card board box at a dump.  As it happens God is calling us into the dumps right now.  Who knows; he might even call us into Beverly Hills one day.


But people also need to eat.   They need a place to live and rest, to work, to earn a living, to create, and communicate. People need a place to study and learn, a place to come together to worship and soak in the presence of God, a place that is safe and accommodating with the potential to expand; a place where anything and everything good can be done. A place that influences the surrounding culture with the love of God until the love of God becomes the culture.

Now we are going to Honduras. “Why Honduras ?” you ask.  Well I guess I could give you a monologue about why the 2nd or 3rd poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere needs our help more than the wealthiest; how helping the 3rd world to prosper solves issues like illegal immigration and makes the world a safer place as a whole. I guess I could rant about how the first world has heard the gospel message time and time again only to reject it.  But that’s really not it at all.  “Ok then why Honduras and not South Sudan?”.  Read on.

Cathy and I have testimonies galore of how God has spoken to us over the years. Suffice it to say that one of us usually senses a decision or a change needs to be made, then prays and gets a word or an answer. The other does the same often without knowing what the other is thinking or doing. It’s pretty amazing when we finally talk and find that we are both thinking about the same thing.  When we both get the same word or answer we act.  If we don’t then we wait.


There were so many times over the years when we wanted to abandon what frequently felt like a fruitless ministry to inmates and addicts. Even so God had more for us to learn and every time the word was a resounding “no”.  Until last year that is when we both clearly knew that it was time to go to the nations.

Our plan was to move to Honduras in December of 2016.  Yet the Bible clearly states in Proverbs that we might make our plans but the Lord directs our steps.


One day in September Cathy was on her usual prayer walk listening to a podcast as she was accustomed.  This one featured Rolland Baker on “IRIS AFTER HOURS” She then returned home and adamantly stated that “We can’t go yet. God has a work to do in our hearts.”
I listened to the same podcast; Google searched IRIS Global and learned about the Harvest School.  I then heard myself saying “honey they have a school. I think we are supposed to go.” “Really?” she asked. She didn’t tell me she’d already heard the same thing in her heart.  “Yes!” I said. “Let’s do it! The rest is history much of which you can read about on our previous WordPress blog posts.


Africa was amazing and the need there was seemingly even more profound than in Central America. We thought we might not be going to back to Honduras after all. But we prayed. We asked God to show us both individually and together exactly what our next step should be. At one point while in a South Sudanese refugee camp in northern Uganda we thought for sure that God would call us there instead.  Yet by the end of three months the message was clear.
We were to return to Honduras as originally planned.

I’d like to say I know for sure why aside from loving our friends, God has us going back to Honduras; that we will be ones who bring the City of Refuge model to Africa one day. That would be very neat indeed. But that would also be several steps ahead. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about walking with God it’s that thinking about the second step while still engaged in the first frequently results in a fall.

Some might disagree but for us the anatomy of a call has more to do with “who” is calling and “when” we should go than it does with where, what, and how. That’s how faith works.  At the end of the day I’d rather be in the will of God under machine gun fire than apart from it on a beach in paradise.  That doesn’t mean some are not called to a beach in paradise.  Some are called to go.  Some are called to support those who go.

IRIS has the motto that “Love looks like something.”  It’s more than just an idea to them.  We would agree. Many people would say that going to Refugee camps in Africa looks more like love than does going to Honduras.  Right now, for us, love looks like a City. But it’s only because God has called us there. It’s kind of exciting that while we are pretty clear on the “what” and “how”; we don’t yet know the full story of “why”.  This is the anatomy of our call.


Post Note:

I realize the “S” word causes many discomfort and we do need support. But please apply the main lesson in this blog and only give what, where and when God calls you to.

Please don’t stop following us and praying for us simply because you are afraid we are going to bug you for money.  We won’t.  Giving should be regarded as an opportunity.  It should never be done out of compulsion.

If you would like to support us then please visit the Join Us Page on our web site grayhope.com

God Bless,

Brian and Cathy.