Sal y Limon

We’re getting close to ready here at the project. I’m pretty sure that we’ll be housing the inaugural guests at the Bethel Mission Center in Chinandega, Nicaragua come December 1st. I’m only a tiny bit concerned that some of our current inhabitants will not jive well with North American Christians. It’s not so much religious differences or political strife that I’m worried about. The real issue is biting. That’s right! The locals bite and the visitors squish…..or squash. Both of these guys have been found stowing away in our digs in just the past two weeks. A motley crew indeed but good neighbors if you ask me. We’ll see how it goes between these two exotic groups. In any case; I doubt that it’s going to be a gracious example of co-laboring in the name of the Lord.

I once heard a smart man say that “we already are”. Already are in the sense of preaching the gospel or spreading the good memo. It’s the idea that telling people about Jesus occurs in every aspect of our lives. It’s not just a four-step presentation, or a compilation of Bible verses that lead a person through a near-sighted picture of what might occur in someone’s heart and mind as they come into the family of God. I’ve found this reality to be incredibly necessary among a people that can more easily evaluate my character than my theology. The idea is that my current Theology would transform my behavior to be more and more congruent with Jesus himself, the fruits of the spirit or “good moral character” if you don’t speak Christian. Most everyone in my path here either claims “Christianity” or is very familiar with some sort of “Christian” church and how things work within that particular organization. In my village; I’m considered a missionary and yet my daily activities probably confound the average church person. They don’t find me in the church every night; they don’t hear me saying “Glory to God” and “Yes, I’m doing fine, Gracias a Dios!”. I don’t say “God bless you” to every person I encounter all day long. I also hire non-church people to work at the project with me. I wear shorts; listen to weird music, and don’t speak with overwhelming and unusual respect towards pastors. I’m probably in need of a some good ole fashion “saving” as far as the church people are concerned. I hope that I’m effectively communicating Jesus through my actions. Sometimes I get this desire to raise my voice with the details of my Theological standpoints in order to substantially validate a spiritual element of my work here in Bethel. To validate it unto to people like you I mean. I just couldn't quite bring myself to do it. If I’m going to do anything good here; it will not likely emanate from a pulpit; and it’s not going to seem all that "Missionary like" either. This is how things are going and it feels just about right.

Getting to the title of this blog; I’ve got a mixture of salt and lime on my feet. It’s a local remedy for Pica Pica. Pica Pica being the native terminology for an allergic reaction to a some elusive ecological specimen. I haven’t identified the culprit as of yet but it’s more or less Poison Ivy. You scratch the affected area with aggression and then apply the salt coated lime with equal fervor. Yes, it burns. But I’m supposed to be all better after two days..........I’ll let you know.

Status 11.11.07

We’re about 19 days away from a tight deadline and I’ve finally got a task that I might be able to complete on time. The mission center at our little business park is still a far cry from complete; but we’re almost capable of accommodating a small group for the first time ever! It would be a rustic experience lacking any resemblance of luxury, but if we can somehow get light and water online by December 1st then I’ll be a happy kid. We’ve also got to get the café ready for our cook that she might adequately feed our group of 12 gringos! Pray that I’ll be able to juggle the necessary balls in order to make everything happen in time.

As an abnormally long side note: I’m getting sick of having to reply with a “no” to the almost daily illegitimate requests of certain people. You tell someone no and then you’re their enemy. There are a few people in the village that don’t wave back to me anymore and it’s sad. (most of them take it pretty well though) They ask me for things that I don’t feel right about giving. Things that they can and should take care of on their own and I feel justified in denying their requests. My biggest desire for any people group in a developing country is that they would become self-sufficient. This means that any aid of mine that discourages them from progressing on their own; is the wrong move on my part. My purpose for being here is ultimately to glorify God and make His name great! The greatest way that I feel I can do this is to help them become sustainable within themselves. It sucks because they can’t see it when I’m telling them “no” and my Spanish isn’t quite good enough to explain my reasoning. I suppose this is just a part of my life here that I’ll have to get used to. The worst part is that I think about this every time I buy an ice cream cone or spend $8.00 on dinner! Every time a kid asks me for one cordoba on a street corner. I have eight in my pocket that I could just as easily throw in the gutter; what’s wrong with me? It can’t be this hard!

If I could only return to the bliss that is so constantly fleeting………

In Between Life

As I sit here at the Costa Rica Airport in San Jose listening to Jack Johnson lament over the whereabouts of all the good people, I find myself in the most unexpected state of peace that I’ve experienced for a long time. It's almost as if my layover in this quaint airport finds me between two pieces of life, or in a gap in time. Across the runway rises a set of green mountains graced by puffy white clouds which are about to take on the purples and pinks of their sun drenched neighbors of only a few miles away to the West. The scene somehow brings back fond memories of so many sunsets and even more sunrises at Raleigh-Durham International Airport. It was there where my father, grandfather, brother, and uncle once worked so hard together to boost flight after flight of TWA, Northwest, and Continental’s schedule in and out of our peaceful and fair RDU. The memories are fond and, as I see and hear the roar of the MD-80s and and 737s blasting away; I somehow feel a part of it all. Those early mornings and late evenings were such an exciting time for a young boy as I seemed to have more responsibility on my shoulders than most of my friends who were likely at home shooting hoops or trying to master the last level of The Legend of Zelda.

I could almost get lost in this sunset. If this felt any more right than it does now, I would walk out of this airport, catch a bus to Tamarindo, buy a new board, and surf my shoulders out of socket. Yet, in the back of my mind, I know that I will press on. The little piece of God that seems to exist inside me knows that I must work. It is intertwined into who I am. Surfing or traveling without aim would never satisfy me forever. And so I know that this moment of bliss is meant to be enjoyed in the now. It will fade within minutes. Here it began…..and here it will end. Jack play a song, and Jesus lead on.