Recently I got an e-mail from my dad. He’d been talking to someone about missionaries the other day. A natural thing, I suppose, considering his son is one. During the course of the conversation the other person said some to the effect of, “I don’t know why missionaries have to go overseas. There are plenty of problems here. I don’t want to support anyone who wants to leave the country.”

This is a question we get fairly regularly.  It’s asked, I think, because there is a basic misunderstanding of who a missionary is and what a missionary does. It puts missionaries in a separate category of work within the body of Christ. I mean, why don’t they ask Christian business people why they have to do business overseas when there are businesses to deal with in the United States?  Why have our Christian soldiers in the past century given their lives to fight wars in other lands when there are a lot of things going on in the USA that they could help?  Or, on a more tranquil level, why do Christians travel to the Caribbean to visit nice beaches…there are nice beaches in the USA, too, with hotels and restaurants that would benefit from their money?

    God is a God of more than one nation and as followers of Christ, we have become a part of the family of God. That means we have family members in all countries of the world. The Bible tells us of a time when people from every tribe, nation, people, and language will bend their knees in worship of God. The prophet Isaiah tells us “It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49.6 NIV). In that passage God was talking to Isaiah and to God’s chosen people (Israel—not the nation, but the people) that their responsibility was more than just reaching their own people. Their responsibility was to reach out to the world. I believe God wants us to understand that this passage is also about us, as Christians in the modern world. God’s hand reaches beyond political boundaries. God’s people need to be willing to reach out as well.

        My favorite line from the movie Evan Almighty is when a reporter asks him why he thinks God chose him to build an ark.  Evan simply looks at the reporter and says, “God calls all of us.”      The truth is, all of us are missionaries.  We are all called to share the good news.  The only difference is some of us are called to stay in the USA while others are called to serve in China or Peru or Costa Rica or other places.  It’s not a question about one being better than another.  It’s a question of doing what we are called to do and serving where we are called to serve.

        Why do we believe we have been called to serve in another country?  Simply put: because God has called us to serve here.  We have the gifts and the graces that are needed in this place at this time.  We have the gifts of learning languages and of relating to people of other cultures.  We have the gift of being able to be flexible with our time and able to say goodbye and hello (it’s not easy, but we know we can do it).  Some of the final words Jesus spoke to his disciples are found in Acts 1.8.  In those verses, he tells them to go and spread the good news…starting in Jerusalem and moving outward from there to the four corners of the world.  He didn’t tell all of them to go everywhere.  He told them to go and gave them the gifts they needed to do the work wherever they were.  We believe that God has trained us and prepared us in the United States (that is, Jerusalem) to go out to the ends of the earth (for us right now that is Costa Rica and Peru).

I agree that there is a lot of work to be done in the states.  There are people who are hurting and who are in need.  There are people who can help themselves, but don’t (that’s a problem everywhere).  And there are people who cannot help themselves, and are doing the best they can to survive, who could use a hand up (not a hand out).  There are people doing what they can to help fix/mend/help/change the problems there.  But there are thousands of others who are sitting back waiting for somebody else to do it.  We are, after all, all missionaries called to spread the good news starting in the USA and moving out from there.  If we all did our part, there would be a lot fewer problems.   

The sad truth of the matter, though, is traditional missionaries who work in the US have a much harder time raising support than those who go overseas.  On the one hand there is the thought that “we should help those at home (that is, in the United States).”  On the other hand if you are staying in the states, the perception of many is that you are 1) helping the wrong group of people, 2) not really working at all, 3) don’t need any help because you are in the USA after all and there are programs to help out already.

        In a roundabout way, many of us who are serving as missionaries in other countries are helping the people in the states as well.  The sad truth of the matter is that the United States has a very bad reputation around the world.  Many nations like the US dollar and the aid and the assistance.  They don’t like the attitude that often comes with it (as I blogged about in the Ugly American).  If (and this is a big if) we missionaries overseas do our job correctly…if we love our neighbor…if we try to understand them before jumping to conclusions…if we share the good news of Jesus Christ with love instead of fear… if we take the time to learn the language… if we seek to serve instead of seek to be served… if… if… if…  If we do these types of things, the image of the people will begin to change regarding the land of the free and the home of the brave.  They will begin to see the true side of America that does not come through in a Hollywood movie, TV show or political proclamation.  They will see people who love this world and the world’s people for more than just the land, their labor, and their money.  Missionaries do more than just teach about God.  We teach life skills.  We teach English.  We offer training that will help the local economy…just to name a few things.  That, in the long run, will help relations with the USA. 

        I don’t know if any of this will help you understand why we believe God is still calling missionaries to work in other countries. Maybe it will.  Maybe it won’t.  Everyone is allowed to have his or her own opinions about missions.  That’s okay.  We can agree to disagree.  I’m not going to point fingers and tell them what they need to be doing.  That’s between them and God. If they don’t want to donate to missionary causes overseas, that is their choice.  I’m okay with that.  I’m going to believe and trust they are doing all they can to help the problems in the USA.  God bless them for that.  After all, it seems that is where they have been called to work and serve.  (Please don’t read this with any sarcasm…that is not the way it is intended.  I truly believe they can be doing the right thing by helping ministries “at home”).

    May you be blessed in all you do as you serve God as a missionary wherever you find yourself…

It’s Christmas Eve and the fireworks have been going pretty much constantly since about six this evening.  Sometimes they are at a distance.  Sometimes they are right next door.  Boom.  Squeel.  Flash.  Pop.  Zip. 

It’s a different kind of Christmas Eve.  Silent Night isn’t so silent, Jingle Bells don’t go dashing through the snow here, and Oh, the Holy Night is pretty well lit up with bright bursts of flame. 

There really aren’t any worship services to go to tonight.  No communion to receive.  Our church has a supper tomorrow night, but other than that… nothing.   It’s different.  But still, it is Christmas Eve.

Feliz Navidad!

Back in 1958, Eugene Berdick and William Lederer wrote a political novel called The Ugly American.  I’ve never read it, but the title has stuck with me.  It’s been alluded to in a number of the books I’ve read about missions and living overseas and in a different culture.  To be honest, I don’t know much about the book except that it is about how Americans appear to people in other cultures…and that appearance is not a positive one. 

I met him today.  Not Berdick or Lederer.  I met the ugly American.  I don’t know his name, but he drove Kia and I nuts with his pompus, self-centered, egotistical attitude that gives the United States a bad name around the world.  We were at the airport (for the third day in a row for me) standing in the line in front of the Aduana office (the customs office).  One of the churches sent us a package air freight and we were there to pick it up.  Because of technicalities and details and papers and stamps and all that, it took longer than we thought or we’d hoped.  Fortunately for us, a new family at the language school (they just came in four days ago) had to go to the airport to pick up their dog (that, too, ended up being a two day process because of the timing of flight arrivals and the times the customs office was open).  We caught a ride together and got to know one another much better.  That’s another story for another time, though.  Back to the ugly American.

I’d been there a long time.  A lot of us had.  There were no chairs.  The office was under the stairwell so we could lean against the railing if we wanted.  It was not too hot, but it wasn’t cool either.  We all held papers and receipts filled with stamps and staples and signatures.  We waited.  And waited.  And waited.  The Ugly American came up–no, I lie–he strutted up wearing sandals, shorts (too short, said Kia), and a Hawaiian shirt.  This might be common in the states, but here it is not.  In public–and especially when conducting business–men wear pants not shorts.  The only people who wear Hawaiian shirts are those who want to stand out for various reasons.  Sandals are only seen on the feet of gringos.  He went directly into the office demanding to know what was happening with his stuff.  He then came out in a fury cursing the workers inside.  “Of course,” he said to the young woman waiting in line beside him, “You can’t expect anything efficiant from the idiots in there.”  His poisonous speech crept into those around him and soon two or three of them spent the next few half hours (yeah, I typed that right) bad mouthing the customs officials. 

He was waiting for a part (a “used part” he was sure to tell anyone within ear shot) for his wife’s Volvo.  She’s been in an accident and the other persons insurance (the only insurance available in Costa Rica as far as I know) would not pay for the repairs.  He had to go back to California and get the parts after traveling from junk yard to junk yard and get the parts shipped back.  This one part was left behind and had to be shipped separately.  Hence, he was there waiting in line with the rest of us. 

During the time we were together (joy of joys–that’s sarcasm, by the way), he was sure we all knew he’d had a total of three cars imported (the wife’s Volvo, a truck, and a Porche), he was not going to pay the taxes the Costa Rican government was asking from him, and he was very frustrated with the stupid people in the customs office.  “They’re all idiots,” he said again. 

None of us were really happy being there.  All of us were tired.  All of us would rather be doing something else. 

The Ugly American said his time was important (like the rest of ours isn’t?).  “I have things to do,” he said. 

The young woman waiting in line next to him (with whom, by the way, he was blatenty flirting while waiting for a part for his wife’s car) asked him what kind of things.

“Well,” he said, “I was planning on sailing on my yacht.  I can’t do that, though, cause I have to be here waiting for those idiots in the office.” 

Kia and I were not happy with him.  We were embarrassed that he carried a US passport for identification.  We wanted to say, “He’s not with us.”  Kia wanted to poke him in the shoulder with her finger and say, “Grow up, you idiot.” 

She didn’t, though.  Neither did I.  We tried to paint another picture of people from the United States.  We waited in line.  And we waited.  And we waited.  After a while it was our turn.  We paid the import tax (about 15 cents).  Waited in another line.  Paid a customs fee (about $16).  Got our box and came home. 

We weren’t perfect.  We made mistakes.  We got frustrated.  We had better things to do as well.  We could have been worse, though.  Maybe we should thank the Ugly American we met today for showing us how not to be.  A friend taught me years ago to say, “A minor detail of life” when things wouldn’t go the way we wanted them to go.   The Ugly American reminded me how important it is to roll with the punches and to make our way through the minor details of life. 

Be blessed in all you do.  And be a blessing to all you meet…regardless the minor details…

We ate a lot of tamales growing up.  I don’t know where mom learned to make them.  They were the Mexican style wrapped in corn husks.  They were good, but as a kid, they really weren’t my favorite (sorry, mom, but there were other things I liked better… like those chocolate chip cookies).

Today was a day for making tamales here in our house.  Tamales are one of the most important and popular Christmas foods here.  Every country in Latin America makes them, I think, and every country has a different way of making them.  Here, for example, they are wrapped in banana leaves instead of corn husks, and they are filled with rice, carrot, peas, green beans, pepper, and meat (chicken or pork).  Two are then tied together and boiled.  The group of two is called a piña (that’s also the word for pineapple). 

It was an all day process (actually more than a day), with the cutting and chopping and cooking and boiling and preparing and washing and drying (the leaves), and, and, and…  I’ll let the pictures talk for me about this.  Just click on the picture above to go to the album of pictures.

Be blessed.

Walking is a way of life here for most of us.  A few people we know have cars, and I was even offered a chance to drive one.  I turned it down.  It’s hard enough avoiding cars sometimes while walking.  In an effort to avoide potholes or other obstacles in the road, drives swerve and weave and such.  We’ve felt the need to have to jump out of the way more than once of a car avoiding something.  In the rainy season, we’ve been drenched by the splash of passing cars.  There is, we’ve heard from a student who interviewed the local police, no courtesy training in drivers ed here.  Things are changing.  Or at least, politicians (among others, I’m sure) are trying to change some of the driving habits.   This article in the local English language newspaper will give you some idea of the driving conditions around here.  (By the way, the article mentions a speed of 150 Kilometers per hour.  That’s about 93 mph.) 

The school the kids attend is called Sojourners Academy.  The name comes from the Biblical image of, among others, Abraham as he traveled from one land to another.  The word Sojourner means simply “one who stays as a temporary resident.”  As Christians we are sojourners in this world.  Jesus said we are to be “in the world but not of it.”  As missionaries, we are sojourners in Costa Rica as we learn Spanish. 

That hit us fully in the face this morning as we witnessed the graduation of a number of fellow students.  Some have sojourned here for a year, others for just a few months.  We sent them off with blessing to the various countries to which God has called them to serve.  Yesterday, we did that with the students at Sojourners Academy.  Each teacher stood with the students who would be leaving their classrooms to move to another country or ministry.  They spoke words of praise over them and then sent them each off with a blessing.  What a moving time it was–in many senses of the word!

Be blessed in wherever you find yourself sojourning.

Yesterday we got an e-mail we didn’t like getting.  It was from our field director in Peru and started something like:  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”  I don’t like notes that start like that.  In a nutshell, he told us our financial gifts have dropped and our account is almost to a critical level.  What that means is that if we don’t see an increase in the giving to our ministry in the next month or month and half, we will be forced to make plans to return to the states for a further time of talking to churches about partnering with us in the ministry.   We do not want to do this. 

Having lived in Latin America now for nearly five months, we have become even more convinced of our call to work with the Spanish speaking people of the world.  Specifically, we believe God continues to call us to work with the people in the mountains of Peru after we become more fluent in the Spanish langauge.  That cannot happen, however, without prayer and financial support. 

Many of you who read this already make regular gifts to our ministry.  For that we are truly thankful.  Please don’t stop!  Please continue to pray for us asking God for wisdom and peace during this time.  Also talk to your family and friends and your church about partnering with us as well.  It doesn’t take much from each of us individually, but if we all work together as the body of Christ, it is amazing what can happen…regardless the economic conditions in the world. 

If you know of anyone who might be interested in helping us stay on course to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with the people of Peru, please direct them to this website.  There is a link to the right (just under the Mission Society logo) that will take them to a secure donation site on The Mission Society webpage. 

 On a positive-God-is-so-cool note:  We have not seen a new pledge card in months (that is, a card from a person or group making a faith pledge to continue to partner with us in the ministry).  While I was typing a letter this afternoon to send out to our pray partners about our financial need, I heard the “you got mail” ding on the computer.  Checking it I found one new e-mail:   a pledge card from a church promising to take regular offerings on our behalf with a goal fo $500 a year!  Praise God.

Be blessed in all you do!

Yesterday was Saint Nicholas Day.  It’s the day that some traditions within the church celebrate the life of the man who eventually became Santa Clause.  A tradition we in our family have adapted from our time studying and teaching German is the night before, we put our shoes outside our front door for Saint Nick to fill with treats (if we’ve been good) or switches (if we’ve been bad). 

This year the kids found the traditional nuts in their shells along with some wrapped candy.  Usually there is an orange, but this year it was a pear. 

We were talking with our empleada (househelp) the other day about Christmas.  She said that apples are big thing here right now. 

“Apples?” we asked. 

“Yeah,” she said (actually, she said, “si”, but you get the picture).  Apples (especially good ones) are really hard to find around here.

“Growing up in the states,” we told her, “Oranges were a big thing to get for Christmas.”

“Oranges?” she laughed.  They are, after all, very common around here.

“Yeah,” we said (again, acutally, we said “si” but I think you still get the picture). 

Audra and I talked about how neat it was at Christmas to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what we wanted.  I don’t ever really remember the lap sitting and the telling part, but I really remember getting a brown paper lunch bag filled with nuts, a candy cane and…joy of joys…an orange.  That made it Christmas. 

This morning while I was studying during my break (we have four hours of class and one hour of break every day), it hit me again just how much the outside is a part of life here.  I was studying in my favorite spot on campus.  It’s a covered arbor of sorts.  Poured concrete pad, four corner posts and a terra cotta roof.  Flowered vines cover the posts and part of the sides so that I have to duck to enter.  It’s sitting on a hill so from there, there is a good view of the school, the community and the surrounding mountains.  This morning a beautiful yellow bird visited me there.  Actually I think he was looking for a nesting site, but I can imagine he was visiting me, right? 

There are other places to study.  One place is the terrace (pronounced tey-dah-suh).  Like my favorite shelter, it is a poured concrete slab with four posts and a roof (tin this time instead of terra cotta).  It’s outside, too, with a lot of birds looking for dropped crumbs under the tables.   Another place to study is the upper terrace.  It’s attached to the chapel, but like the other places, it too is opened to the environment. 

Just about everything is open.  Doors stand wide open almost all day.  The windows, too.  Rarely do we see screens on the windows.  Just louvered panes of glass to open and close or solid panes to look through.  Breezes are nice when they come through.  Except, that is, when it’s cold or is pushing some rain with them. 

Doors don’t meet the floor.  They can’t or else they would scrape up the floor.  Rarely do they have the door sweeps (that rubber thing on the bottom) to keep out the breezes.  We don’t have to worry about it wasting energy, though, because none of the houses are heated or cooled artificially.  The outside is in so it’s okay. 

What’s odd, though, with all this outside in, the bugs don’t seem to bother us as much as I would expect.  Maybe they figure it’s about the same no matter where they are, so they might as well stay out.  I don’t know why, but I don’t mind. 

I like being outside.  I like the fresh air.  An extra shirt or sweater when needed.  All is well with the world.

Be blessed. 

By Kia McEuen (age 14)

“Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus”

– 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Being an MK, I travel with my family from church to church, state to state, country to country. While we travel, I get many opportunities to meet and grow close to people. But when I meet someone, sooner or later I have to say goodbye. Over the past year I’ve had to say tons of goodbyes to best of best friends, grandparents, my home, my non-biological family, and everything that’s familiar to me.

When we got to Colorado, I met and bonded with three other teens. After three weeks we had to say goodbye and leave each other. It was very, very hard. I tried not to cry and look stupid…to be an adult. But I couldn’t hold back the tears; and they flooded down my cheeks as I looked at my friends who I may never see again. Then I thought about what Mr. David Wilson (the teen teacher) said earlier that day, “Tears are gifts…I hope it hurts when you say goodbye, because it means that you’ve loved well and have been loved.” Those words comforted me a lot.

Now here in Cost Rica, I’ve once again made very close friends and had amazing experiences with them. Six of my new friends are leaving with their families in two weeks. When they’re gone, their absence will change Sojourn (my school) completely. After only four months, I already have to say another very hard goodbye once again. I totally think that goodbyes are sad, and I wish that word didn’t have to come out of my mouth, but I wouldn’t take back a single day that I’ve spent with the teens I’ve met.

Some people try to run away from saying goodbye because they know it will hurt. They leave before everyone starts, but when they come back and everyone is gone, they realize that they may never see their friends again, and they wish that they had spent every last minute they could with their friends. Other people try to block the pain that comes with goodbyes by not getting close to anyone, and by not getting close, it’s true that they don’t have as much pain and grief, but they also missed out on love.

When I know that I’ll have to say goodbye soon and see another friend leave again, I try, to the best of my ability, to spend time and comfort them up to the last second I have with them. I do this because I know what I’ll be feeling and how to handle it (I learned this in Colorado) but my newfound friends may not. As a friend to them, I feel like I need to help and support them in this difficult time.

I know that I will think of and miss them, but I’ll always remember what we did together, and I’ll never forget what they meant to me. Goodbyes are most definitely not fun, but they’re part of life and we all need to roll with the punches and give thanks in all circumstances.