I’ll Come to You

So we went to do laundry yesterday.

That’s no big deal except that our kids that live here went back to school. So Tori and I ventured out, with specific directions, to do some laundry and get some lunch.

In both of the establishments we visited, there was someone there that spoke English to help us communicate back and forth. It was incredibly comforting to find people that were willing to come to where we were in order to help us understand what was being asked or expressed.

I have been, at times, one of those peole who has thought that people coming to my native land should learn the language instead of expecting us to come to them. And, I suppose, it does make a difference when one comes to live in a foreign land. My kids have worked hard at learning the language here and that is indeed an honorable endeavor.

But I have seen the other side just a bit. It’s not about signs and documents. In reality, it’s about serving others.

I want to make something like a vow – to all of those I will have occasion to interact.

I’ll come to you.

I won’t expect you to understand my “christian-ese” and my theological terminology. I won’t expect you to get my cultural references. I won’t expect you to speak my language.

I’ll come to you.

I won’t expect you to wander into the church where I preach. I won’t wait for you to show up for a worship service. I won’t look quizically at you and wonder why you can’t just meet me in the middle.

I may not succeed. I will no doubt fail –  many times in many ways.

But I will try with all that I am.

I’ll come to you.

I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings. (‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭9‬:‭22b-23‬)

But I Do Speak Jesus

I’ve come to the end of my sixth day in Honduras. I’m not really any less awkward than when I got here at attempting to communicate, but what can I say? Yo MUCHO GRINGO?

Tonight we attended a worship service at a local evangelical church here in Santa Rosa. There was absolutely no English spoken by the worship leaders, pastor, or those voicing prayers.

And it was incredibly and disarmingly moving to me.

I’ve always be an advocate for the amazing power of music to cross cultural and language barriers, so to experience it here was tremendous. Honestly, I could have sat and just listened to the young lady that was leading the music without understanding a word she said. It was beautiful.

Continue reading But I Do Speak Jesus

I Don’t Belong Here

Tori and I are in Honduras!

I’m fascinated.

And I’m petrified.

My work is very much centered around communication. I’m a speaker. I’m a writer. I’m a vessel of information to the people I serve – sometimes sharing insights they may not have had, more often reminding them of truths they already know. My work is, at it’s core, to speak to God on behalf of men and then (and only then) speak to men on behalf of God.

Last evening I was locked up at the suggestion of going to buy a bottle of water and a can of Pringles. I am utterly comfortable communicating with just about anyone in English. I feel isolated and very dependent upon my son and daughter-in-law and my wife (who has MUCHO MAS Spanish skills than I) to even make a simple purchase.

Continue reading I Don’t Belong Here