older boys' home pics

Tony helping the boys write their memory verses...

Some of the other boys helping, too...

They were really into it... (some of the boys can barely read and write so need a lot of help).

See our projector on the table?


Tony projects movies on the green wall in the background while Facundo works crowd control. I can't remember which one he showed this day, but this week he showed them Fireproof (dubbed over in Spanish). They LOVED it and cheered and clapped at the end asking, "Can you bring more movies like that?".

mountain movie magic

At a recent outreach, we showed some movies.


It was a village of about 100 families; Day 1 of our return trip to Chos Malal.

At these events (well, most events we show movies at), the two and a half hour JESUS film is often times too long. The kids usually don't make it past a half an hour - any more and they will begin to wander off. The Torchlighters series work well in these situations, especially since we have many other activities going on and a program to follow. The movies are evangelistic, animated, and only 30 minutes in duration - very kid friendly. A nice fit after the kids (and watching adults) have sung, played, heard the Good News, and had a snack.


the garage, lent to us from a family in the village, converted into a makeshift movie theatre



setting up the projector





aren't they adorable?!?





notice our make shift projector stand: a rusty barrel, an old rack, and some planks 



Fun stuff. Hard work. Worth it.

mime gospel part II

The nine-second test video never uploaded here for me. Welcome to my life. So... sorry. No amazing five-minute mime gospel video. You'll just have to believe me, it and they were amazing.

A couple of these kids accepted Christ. :)

The first day's event of our three days in the mountains was well-received. Now the native missionaries can go back in and continue working with the people. We are very pleased with how it went!

"Let all the nations be gather together, and let the people be assembled... let them hear, and say, It is truth." - Isaiah 43:9

mime gospel part I

I've had a bit of a rough week. The busyness and emotional strain of it has kept me from posting pictures of our truly amazing trip to the mountains.

Here are some starters: Jonathan and Keren, university students from church, and their amazing mime act of the gospel. The kids (and adults) ALWAYS love it.

Now, to see if I can upload the video of it...so amazing. Here's hoping it works.

:)

back from the mountains

We just got back from a whirlwind 3-Day Mission Trip to the mountains.

I have much to do this week, but once I get caught up, I have enough pictures and stories for about a month's worth of posts...!

Is it all we thought it would be?

My blog friend, Annie, submitted a comment recently and asked several questions, 

".... Is it like you imagined? Do you find joy often? Do you feel like you are doing what you thought you'd be doing? I am so curious as I often imagine living the life of a missionary."

I thought I would just answer these questions here, as maybe there are others who wonder this, too. These are certainly questions we ask ourselves often.

Is it like you imagined?

Yes.

And no.

Yes, overseas missions is exactly as I imagined. Or should I say, as I've read it to be in all those missionary biographies. We've done several overseas short term mission trips before, but living it long term is completely different. Short term, you know you are going home. Long term, you know you're not. At least, not for a while. It changes everything when the going gets tough because there are no quick fixes, few comforts, little respite. It is what I imagined in that it is : Hard. Crazy. Unpredictable. Messy. Scary. Dirty. Uncertain. Busy. Challenging. A lot of work. Rewarding. Not for everybody. A calling. A sacrifice.

But worth it. Every time we have stepped out into the unknown, sometimes right off a cliff, we have found Jesus to be there, waiting for us, his arms full of grace.

And no, it's not what I imagined: It is not exotic. It is only sometimes exciting. Fascinating, yes. Fun and super cool at times, sure. An adventure, most definitely. But mostly it's hard, frustrating, lonely, annoying. It's upsetting when people misunderstand you when you're just trying to do good and follow Jesus. Upsetting when you are just being yourself and truly have sincere intentions, but the cultural filter and lens others see you through sometimes says something you are not saying, nor doing. It is an ever-present downer to see so much poverty and suffering.

Tony and I are here in obedience. We don't love living here like perhaps some missionaries love where they are living. I envy missionaries that can say that that is true for them, I really do. I wish those were my feelings, it would make things easier. I pray for that kind of love and joy. For us, it comes in smaller windows. But that's okay.

God calls different people in different ways. I am called to two things that I know of: faith and obedience. Right now that means having the faith to obey to live here and do this. Sometimes emotions follow, sometimes they don't. I try not to follow emotions or feelings because I have found them to be fickle and unreliable, often getting me into trouble. God's Word, on the other hand, I can rely on.

Do you find joy often?

I had a hard time answering this one. So I asked Tony. He had a hard time answering it, too.

"Sometimes" I guess would be our answer. There has been joy in the journey for sure, but I don't know that that is always the case.

Did Richard Wurmbrand always find joy in prison? He after all was an obedient, faith-filled Christian.

Did William Tyndale find joy living on the run in Germany? He was doing God's work.

I wonder how Martin Luther felt nailing his thesis to the church doors. Joy? Fear?

Did Paul always find joy in persecution? I can't imagine he felt great when he was shipwrecked, cold, hungry, beaten, and in chains. But He was doing what God asked of him. And that was enough for him.

Is there joy all day, every day, as a Christian? As a missionary?

There are too many hardships in missions - in following Christ period - to have joy ALL the time, at least for us, here. What we find is deep satisfaction that we are reaching others in need. That's what we feel most often: satisfaction. Joy is an overwhelming happy feeling that can elude us in the face of all we see and do here. Yes, I find joy in my position in Christ. But frequent difficulties, stress, and trials can snatch it away pretty quickly.

Like when I was standing on the kitchen counter spraying Raid at the spider that had made its home way up in the corner, watching it twitch and fall to its much deserved death... I was not feeling joy as I hyperventilated many prays that it wouldn't be a black widow. (It wasn't.) But that run-in with, even if it was imagined danger, was kind of a killjoy for me. Every time my kids get sick I think it's Hepatitis, or Scarlet Fever, or a strange disease they picked up in the slums. Yeah, I'm a worrywart, but I never thought these things back home.  

Neither one of us loves it here. But we like it, and we enjoy doing missions; we find joy in each other, in our kids, in Jesus, in obeying his commands. We are satisfied sitting in a dirt house sharing the gospel. We are content sitting with kids in children's homes and talking to them, hugging them, teaching them the Bible.

The other day when I was at the children's home, sitting at the table, listening to the lesson and the gospel being shared, we were asking the kids about their siblings. One little boy, about 8 or 9, said yeah I have some. He pointed up and then drew his finger across his throat. Yeah, I have some: they're dead. They're up there *pointing up with his finger*.

It's hard to hold onto the joy when things like that happen. That kind of stuff leaves me feeling sad, and a far cry from joyous. Joy would be an inappropriate feeling at a moment like that.


Do you feel like you are doing what you thought you'd be doing?

Yes. Absolutely. We are doing almost EVERYTHING that we set out to do. We are evangelizing, working with the poor, reaching the unreached.

This is, I think, our one greatest sustaining joy: that we are doing exactly what we thought we'd be doing. And so much more. A lot of the stuff I don't even have time to post here on the blog. Going on mission trips, organizing mission trips, evangelizing at events (some put on by others, some put on by us), sharing the gospel one-on-one, helping native missionaries, visiting orphans, discipling youth, starting ministries, hosting Bible studies, working with the native church, building houses, doing church construction, and so much more - yes, we are definitely doing what we thought we'd be doing. The only thing we are waiting on is an open door to work with the Mapuche. God will open that door if and when He chooses. After the little we've learned about their culture since being here, I don't doubt that it would be our hardest field yet.

But there are things that have happened here along our mission journey that we were never prepared for, things we never expected we would be doing or even thought of doing.

Following Christ, really following him with our lives, has ruined us for so many things.

I confess, it has ruined us to mere Churchianity forever. Sometimes we wonder if it has ruined us for organized church, as well. We honestly prefer at this point to be out evangelizing or visiting or helping those in need, than sitting in church on a Sunday morning. It fills us so much more to be out there.

Missions has ruined us for the mediocre Christian life. I don't think we could ever go back. We may return to the States some day, but I don't think we could ever go back to some of the pointless things we used to do. Sitting around and talking about God is boring to us when we're not also doing something for Him. We're so done with that. I'd rather not call myself a Christian at all, let alone walk around calling myself a missionary, if I'm not doing anything that makes it clear that I am. What good is my faith if it is without works? Can it save me?

When you see so much poverty, so much abuse, so much spiritual and physical need, when you read the Bible and the words of Jesus and examine what it is that we are we are doing in the church - it just kind of ruins you for all the fluff. I think that's a good thing.

So, yes, Annie, thanks for asking. It is pretty much is all we thought it would be. And then some.

packing

We are getting ready for our third mission trip to the mountains - and 3 day evangelistic event in a few remote mountain villages in the northeastern corner Patagonia.

This is a sample of some of the things on our packing list:

projector
movies
portable DVD player
all necessary cables and battery rechargers
220v-120V converters
tent
sleeping bags
extra blankets
pillows with dark pillowcases (so I don't notice how dirty they get)
warm, dark colored clothes (same reason as above)
boots
winter jackets
gloves and hats
baby wipes (there's no shower where we are staying)
long-life milk in a box
instant coffee and tea
box of snacks
camera
chocolate

UPDATE: portable shower - Tony just called to tell me he bought one [it looks exactly like this. fill it with water, plug in to heat. very important next step: UNPLUG].

We're so lame. But, it was only 89 pesos (20 bucks!). We're only buying it for the Boy (...that's what we're telling ourselves. He gets his Fruit of the Loomers in a bunch if he can't shower before bed. He's a strange boy, I hear...). But I'm sure we'll all be fighting over it. I'm going to be laughing when all the young'uns quickly forget their proclamations of, "But, we're MISSIONARIES!" and meekly ask if they can use our shower. LOL yeah, I'm getting pictures of that. Well, not action pictures, that is...

:)

beautiful

living here

Living here is like living on an emotional, daily, roller coaster. One minute we are flying high because we see God is so in this, the very next we are thrown down deep into a pit because of something that has happened. Third World missions, especially when your focus is the unreached poor, is really tough stuff. Believe me.

Most days we know why we are here, and we believe in what we are doing. We know that it is GOD who has called us here, not we ourselves.

But other days we wonder out loud, "Lord, Why did you bring us here?!". To think that we could be living the good life in America - man!

I mean, seriously, I miss my dryer. I miss my dishwasher. I miss my big, comfy house and tranquil life. I miss my culture. Yeah, isn't that weird? My culture. The one that doesn't expect me to explain myself because it already understands me. I miss my family. It hurts me when my kids ask, "When are we going to see Mom-mom again?", and all I can say is, "Well, God knows when we'll be able to go back and see her."

We miss snow. Tony misses the organization and safety in the US. Me, too. It is not easy for us to live here. It is a sacrifice in every way. In every way.

Tonight we were talking at the table, a late dinner, 9 o'clock or so.


Bam!

Did you hear that?

Yeah, I heard somethin'.

Sounded like a gunshot.

Nah.... I don't know. I think it was a firecracker.

Hm (head cocked, listening).

Bam!

There it is again!

Firecracker.

Yeah. Firecracker.

Well... that's good, then.

(conversation resumes)


It's hard not being able to talk to anyone here about things we find to be strange or difficult. Sharing our difficulties with our native friends, we run the risk of offending them or making them feel as if we are criticizing their home country. So we don't, because we aren't. We like it here in many ways; it's just difficult on a lot of fronts.

Gunshots, or even the possibility of gunshots, are not normal for us.

And shouldn't be.

In a perfect world.

But, at the end of the day, it's the small things that make it worth it - living here: the people we are reaching. The ones who have never heard before. Yes, that makes it worth it. I don't worry about the nuances of the future - will they get saved, will there be anyone to disciple them, is there a church in their location they can attend. I really don't worry about that sort of thing. God is faithful. This is His Business. The details are for Him to work out. Mostly, I'm just trying to get through today.

I find it hard enough to be faithful today.

I know God is able to not only save Camila, but He is also able to send help her way. Maybe we're it, maybe we're not. I do know He promises to give us the wisdom to know what to do if we ask.

He sends us the Holy Spirit at salvation to teach us all things. He promises to send her a Comforter, too. I often remember getting saved at my kitchen table in downtown Buenos Aires, all alone. I was lucky if I got to church a half a dozen times that first year. And yet, here I am. God has kept me.

He will keep the work of His hands.

I have no doubt about that.

So no, I'm not worried about Camila. God's got His eye on her. She is a sweet, sincere little girl that has a genuine hunger for God. I consider it a privilege and a pleasure to sit and read with her, explaining and helping her to understand God's Word. Even if her little brothers are climbing all over piles of scrap wood, pulling down their pants to pee as the urge dictates, who chase my own son with scraps of wood nailed into makeshift play swords.

I'm not worried at all. Mostly I stand in awe that we are here at all and God would chose to use us at all.

Lord, you are Good.

"not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." -2 Peter 3:9



Camila, and my favorite picture of all time

I think this is my all-time favorite picture taken in Patagonia. Ever.

"I want to read the Bible, but I can't understand it. I need someone to help me. Can you help me?" she said.

Camila is one of our little friends. She lives deep in the slums. She is nine years old. She lives in a wood slat house with a dirt floor. Her dad is a drug addict and former pai de santo. But she wants to read the Bible. She wants to learn about it, but doesn't know how to begin. So she asked Tony.

And you know you don't have to ask us twice.

:)

older boys' home

Tony took this picture last night on his visit to the children's home for older boys (13+) - a ministry he's started here recently.

(blurry on purpose, all the kids have cases in court)

Isn't that weird? A ministry he's started here.

But it's so easy to start ministries here. We have started several so far: a slums ministry, a movie ministry, a children's home ministry. It's really not that hard; so much easier than in the United States. You don't need a degree, seminary, or an FBI background check.

We have found that all you need is a desire to actually do something and the gumption to go ahead and just do it.

You don't have to be super spiritual or exceptionally talented. God uses ordinary people. Peter was a fisherman. The differentiating factor?  He was recognized to have been with Jesus.

Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus.

Acts 4:13

Not that I'm poo-pooing degrees, or seminary, or FBI checks. These are all good and helpful things. But they are not a requirement to do God's will or His work. God can't wait on possessors of these things in say poor, rural, mountainous Tibet. The Bible shows us time and again that Jesus doesn't need these things to use us. He used Peter and John, and Andrew his lowly fisherman brother, and many, many others - who were all just ordinary people.

Blue-collar Joes.

Tony and Facundo went last evening to the home together. Facundo is one of the youth from church who plays the drums.

We are enjoying working with the young adults from church. Some are not involved in any kind of outreach or ministry - they're just kind of there. Tony is working hard at encouraging them to get out there and we often invite them to various different things we have going on. It's so sweet to see their eagerness to do something for the Lord.

This was their second visit to the home. The boys were looking forward to their return, and asked them last time if and when they were coming back. Tony projected the John Bunyan Torchlighters movie onto the pale, green, smudged wall of the inside of the home. As usual, there was dead silence when the movie was over. The movies are powerful, and they have that effect on just about everyone - believers and non-believers alike.

Afterwards, they did a little reflection and discussion of the movie. They are slowly introducing the study of God's Word. The boys are very open and receptive and thankful for the notebooks Tony brought for each one. In them they write down their memory verses to study, questions, notes, and prayers. He is teaching them to pray, to think about eternal things, to open up about their lives, and pointing them to Hope, to the One who longs to rescue them from the pit. The church we attend also gave us eight small, pocket-sized Bibles for each one. After their visit of course they played a round of soccer. Because what's ministry and evangelism in South America without a game of soccer?

Truly, we can say, God is richly blessing us in all things. It is our one, main, sustaining grace, all this that we see the Lord doing. 

Some days we ourselves fall into a pit, despairing when we look at all the challenges and difficulty of our journey in the Way - but as Christian in The Pilgrim's Progress, we often find ourselves climbing the Hill Difficulty only to happen upon, midway to the top of the hill, a pleasant Arbour, made by the Lord of the Hill, for the refreshment of weary Travellers.

We continue to be so amazed at all the doors that have opened up for us here. Tony found this particular place walking home one day - back when we didn't have a car. He was walking down our dirt road and walked up along side an older man, also walking. And, of course, Tony can not not start talking to everyone he meets, so they struck up a conversation. Pedro loves to talk almost as much as Tony. Turns out Pedro worked for 20 years in homes for troubled youth. When Tony shared that that is something he would like to do as well, Pedro took Tony to this nearby home for troubled youth. Pedro now comes to our weekly Bible study, has from the first day we opened up our home. Pedro lives in a tiny, three-room house nearby. He has been a Christian his entire life, and we enjoy listening to his observations and the wealth of knowledge that only years of living and years of Bible reading can impart.



Pedro welding a wheelbarrow for us in his back yard



what is to become of those bricks

Marcela and Ceferino are rebuilding. This will be their new house.






I got to see on Saturday how it's coming along. The brick walls have now been raised as high as my hip.

Those bricks will come in handy as the night temperatures drop into 50s, soon into the 40s. [EDIT: Now 30s...]. Freezing. Right now they are sleeping in a temporary wood-slat house with only three walls and a tarp for a roof. Brrrrr.

"He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the LORD..." ~Proverbs 19:17



The Big 4-0!

^3-6 It is only when we obey God’s laws that we can be quite sure that we really know him. The man who claims to know God but does not obey his laws is not only a liar but lives in self-delusion. In practice, the more a man learns to obey God’s laws the more truly and fully does he express his love for him. Obedience is the test of whether we really live “in God” or not. The life of a man who professes to be living in God must bear the stamp of Christ. ~1 John 2:3-6 



Marcela's house





I recently became a member of the 40 Club. Officially Over the Hill. It should be easy from here on out, since it's all downhill from now on, right? I should rejoice that I'm still alive - and that I still fit into my jeans from High School (ha, don't hate). These are both miracles.

For my birthday weekend I wanted breakfast in bed, and to not wash a single dish or pick up a single toy. I'm really not that hard to please, really. I mean, really. How hard is that? You don't even have to spend money on me! I also wanted to go visit our friends in the slums, then visit our little friends in the children's home. Somewhere in between there my daughter and I tried to catch a meteor shower. We laid out under the stars in lawn chairs {in our winter jackets and scarves, boots, and gloves} well after midnight in search of shooting stars. It was partially cloudy, so we didn't see any of this spectacular meteor shower they had told us about. Tony came out for a bit and we searched the skies for the Southern Cross and the Three Mary's [aka Orion's Belt].

Good memories.

It was a birthday I will always remember. We spent most of it visiting: Saturday, the slums. Sunday, the children's home.

I don't like birthday parties. I just don't. Don't ask me why, I still haven't figured that out. I don't like going to them, I don't like throwing them, and I don't want one on my birthday. I prefer the quiet life, I guess - or to do something that is actually fun, instead of standing around small talking over cake. I'm not anti-social, just selectively social. B-day parties are not my gig... although I always get sucked into about a dozen a year or so.

So I managed to keep my birthday fairly secret, and off we went. I am often amazed how open people are to the gospel here. This weekend was no exception. When we arrived up in the slums, I sat in the car waiting for the okay to get out. We have a little thing we do: Tony pulls up, looks around, gets out, and says hi. He goes in, chats, and gets a feel for whether it is safe and whether we are welcome. As we pulled up Saturday, Cefe and his brother-in-law were just walking back to their shack. They were returning from buying beer. Tony talked with them for a bit, saw that they weren't drunk or on drugs at the moment, and then waved that it was okay to come in. We spilled out of the van, locked it, and went it.

It really is depressing how they live. It was chilly outside when we walked into their one room shack. The heat and claustrophobia hit me as I ducked in the place where the door should have been. It was so crowded with people and kids and animals that I couldn't even fully come inside. Tony said good thing I had a cold because it smelled like rotten food and animals. Little Sophia was sitting on the dirt floor in her filthy bare feet, her older brother Mishel was only in his underwear at the little table, Marcela and Cefe were there with her niece, her brother, and three or four of her kids, plus one nephew, several cats, and a dog. In a one-room shack. The wood stove was inches from the kids, blasting heat. Marcela says it get very cold at night when the stove burns out. I'm sure - it's getting down into the 30s right now at night. Brrrr...

Since I could barely stand in there, I went outside to watch the kids. Marcela's kids' bare feet are calloused over and they miraculously don't get cut up, but my kids, even with shoes, always seem to get hurt somehow. Marcela followed me out and we stood in her small, dirt front yard, just a patch of desert sand littered with trash and fruit peels and scrap metal and wood with nails sticking out of it. We talked. I really like Marcela, she is very friendly, warm,  and open with me. She began telling me how she can no longer take her brother and niece living with them, her husband's drug addiction, the kids home all day with her, or this emptiness in her heart. I told her it was normal to want to have some privacy, all families should have their own space. I shared how Tony and I used to have problems, big problems, in our marriage. She looked at me in disbelief with that, "Oh, not you" look. Oh, yes, me. I have a quite colorful past. There's a lot I don't tell people. Been there, done that. When she talks to Tony she thinks, "How does he do it? How is he okay all the time? Where does this peace come from that he seems to have?".

It's only God. That's all. That's the only difference.

I was able to share with her that that peace we have comes only from Jesus. We have just as many problems as they do, just different ones perhaps. I told her my story, I told her Tony's story. It was a blessed moment. A holy moment. God was there with us in the slums. Right there with us. She just looked at me. Like she understood. Like she wants that, too.

We talked for a while. She said she doesn't find purpose in life, no reason to get out of bed in the morning, she thinks of suicide often. No, don't do it, I said. Think of your kids. If Cefe has a drug problem, who would take care of them if she killed herself? I reminded her that Tony is more than willing to come up and help them finish raising the walls of their new house. Winter is coming. It's already very cold at night. Once the house is up, she could move into it with her own family, leaving the shack to her relatives. Think of how nice that would be! She's too depressed though it seems to find the motivation to raise the walls herself. I understand that. I probably would be too if I were her, living in that place, with no Hope. We left, telling her we are praying for her and will see her soon.

The next day, my birthday, we headed down to the children's home.




cakes!

 I don't like cake that much and I never want cake for my birthday, I even get somewhat annoyed if anyone wastes money on one I don't want to eat anyway (I know, such a party pooper. Tony says 'no fun'.). So I thought if we took my cake, the one I didn't want anyway but they always seem to buy no matter what, down to the kids' home, it would make the useless cake okay. Kids like cake. Our kids like cake. I like the children's home, but don't like cake. Problem solved.

We met some of the youth at church (they brought more cake), all piled into our van, and headed downtown. Played soccer, ate cake, talked to and hugged the kids. The kids all sang happy birthday to me. To me? I brought my cake for them, not for me. It was the sweetest. What a birthday present, these kids singing to me... it's so sad to think that their parents don't want them, or can't take care of them, or abused them. One of the girls ended up crying in a corner by herself. When we asked her what was wrong, she said she feels invisible. No one comes to visit her, no one loves her, she's so sad. It made me cry, too. My daughter came over and asked what was wrong. They know each other outside of the home - they both go to the same gym class (sports are free here in the city - one of God's many blessings). I explained to my daughter why her friend was crying, that she doesn't have a mom or dad that love her or take care of her. She looked at me like she didn't even understand that concept - no mom or dad, no love?? So, honey, Why don't you hug her and tell her you love her and you are her friend?

So she did. And we all cried some more.

Even though our time was up and we were supposed to leave, we continued talking to her, reminding her of God's promise, "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up." Psalm 27:10.

We shared the good news of God's love for her, and explained that although He does love her, God is gentleman. He wants to make her happy and to give her everything, but He will wait until she is ready, until she accepts what He wants to give her. We talked some more, and then she said she was ready. Keren prayed, she repeated. It was hard for her to get the words out, but she did it.


"...we are not to save souls, but to disciple them. Salvation and sanctification are the work of God’s sovereign grace" ~ Oswald Chambers

sunset on the way home from the children's home

 Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did. -1 John 2:6 NIV

A blessed birthday weekend. In more ways than one.



Tony and I have talked a lot lately about how long we will be here. We have been going through a rough time. He always says don't worry, God will provide. I pray he is right, I pray for faith like his. We have talked about the possibility of having to return to the States because we can't afford to be here. We have accepted that as a possibility, but we hope it doesn't happen anytime soon. We are too busy. We are just getting started.

This week he went for the first time to a home for juvenile boys and showed the William Tyndale Torchlighters movie. {Sorry, they don't let you take pictures}. It was amazing and he was very well received. He'll be going back every other Tuesday night. With the gospel and Bible studies and love and hugs and more movies. To visit these kids that nobody wants in a place where no one is going right now. In talking to the director we have discovered that the kids are pretty bitter about the church. They say churches come once or twice to visit them and never come back. One boy's grandfather is a pastor. But, for whatever reason, they have left their grandson in a home for boys. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you say you are. It is what you do.


If you haven't seen the William Tyndale flick (it's only 30 minutes long) WATCH THE FULL MOVIE HERE! You won't regret it.


Some quotes from the movie I like...

"The Word of God is a light unto our path. It is for all the people to understand, and not for the church only.

I can not see how we can take it upon ourselves to withhold something that God has so freely

and intentionally given to us all?

By God's grace, I am as much a servant of the church, as the church serves God."

~ William Tyndale

more church building

sanding the walls

The church we attend here has outgrown it's old meeting place, so they have built a newer, bigger meeting place on the same lot. We started meeting there regularly just weeks ago. We've gathered bits and pieces of the story of how this church was planted 20 years ago, and we can see how it has grown. We have heard stories of how the pastor and his wife didn't have a bathroom in their first place when they came to the city. We have heard how they cooked and sold chicken to raise money to begin construction. We know how they have reached out to the community because we can see how they are doing that now.

Sometimes I wish our friends from back home could see what we see, experience it. One whole wall of the new church building is tin sheeting, the windows haven't been put in yet but are covered loosely with black burlap, there are pigeon droppings - many - that have cascaded down the wall from the constant roostings, there is neither heat nor air conditioning, the sound vibrates from the speakers so much that sometimes I don't understand a thing, and on Sunday mornings you have to look up once in a while to make sure a pigeon isn't roosted directly over your head. This past Sunday we had quite a few flying around - one swooped precariously close to the pastor's head. It doesn't bother me - it's a refreshing reminder that we don't gather together for our own comfort, or because the building is great, or because of the cushioned seating, surround sound, and climate control.

Anyway, church construction (men build buildings, but it is Christ who builds His Church Acts 2:47) is a whole new beast here. You build as you are able, when you are able, however you are able, and when the funds become available. Members pitch in with construction because this is the Third World: you can't always afford to hire a contractor out to do the work for you. That means Joe PewWarmer often gets up out of his plastic chair to pitch in.

This weekend, we went in to paint the new building. No actual painting ended up taking place... prepping the walls took all afternoon. We sanded all the walls by hand. Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off... lol

An electric sander would have been handy, but construction is mostly manual labor here, tools are often unavailable. My back and shoulders were in a serious big knot the next day.

Another group did some landscaping in the tiny atrium that connects the new building to the old one and the Christian school.

atrium before

atrium after

It is always encouraging to see the pastors, their wives, their whole family out there sanding, sweeping, throwing seed. An example to follow, it always blesses us so much.

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ. ~1 Cor. 11:1

Join with others in following my example, brothers, and take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you. ~Phil. 3:17

Day 4 in Chos

To finally wrap up the series on our trip to Chos Malal, here's a final post on Day 4.

[Day 1, 2, 3]

Since I deleted the only pictures I took our last day from my cell phone (it was just lunch, a talk and travel really), I'll just have to tell you what a great last day it was.

We found Nutella in a local supermarket. Need I say more? It was the sign of a good day. It doesn't take much to make us happy. I think we bought their whole supply. We realize the Hand of God when we see it, you know? We had Nutella on bread for breakfast. And for lunch. And for about the entire week thereafter. We even left a jar for the native missionaries there - they had never tried it before and liked it! Why we can't find it in our city of 300,000 - but in a random small town six hours from anywhere close to Chile... well, that will remain a mystery. Either way, God is good.

Highlight #2 was planning a return trip to this area that we loved so much.

Day 4 We sat down over a bowl of pasta with missionaries and church planters Damian and Marta and organized an evangelistic event for May. They need help, we want to help, so let's do it, was the consensus. They pulled out their hand-drawn map of the area with the mountain families they still have yet to reach, we talked about the needs of the area, and together we wrote up a plan for the weekend. So far we have volleyball, soccer, preaching for kids and adults, the JESUS film, and a used clothes fair on the books. All of this in a little village an hour's drive outside of town, many kilometers out a gravel road, very near where the conference was held. But you'll have to wait til May to see how it went. Praying God brings all the details together.

Damian, Tony, and Daniel

Lately I feel I've been posting too many pictures of poverty, wondering if people get bored with seeing it, post after post. I guess it can be depressing, although - strangely - I don't find it to be. It just is. It's a lot of what we do and why we are here. But, just in case you're tired of seeing pictures of rough neighborhoods and the slums, here are some nice pictures to wrap up our long weekend in Chos Malal, northern Neuquén Province, Patagonia, Argentina. Enjoy.