30 January, 2007

I wish you all could have been there.
It really gets to me - the dichotomy of it all.
Makes me laugh.
Seriously.
That I need a battery powered device being tracked by multiple satellites directing us to points transferred into the device from a computer equipped with mapping software to find a family living without basic electricity (or running water, or sewer, or garbage collection) is indeed a funny irony. Okay, it’s not exactly ironic. But neither is rain on your wedding day and Alanis Morrisette got away with that. For real, the only thing ironic about that song is that none of her examples are indeed ironic. It’s silly...unless it was intentional...in which case it was clever. I need to think some more about this.

Anyway, when the small glowing box of a GPS unit had guided us to within visible range of a house painted with a project number corresponding with the point in the GPS, we could meet the family for whom we would be building. If members of the family were home, the initial interaction with them was basic and usually went something like this:
We are Jon and Lydia.
We work with the ministry that builds houses.
We will be unloading building materials on these dates.
Can we take a picture of you and your family in front of your house?
Of course it’s fine that your husband is working and can’t be in the photo.
Click.
Thank you. See you in a few weeks.
God bless you.
Any variance of the conversation probably included something like:
How old is your baby?
Will that dog bite me?
It really is unseasonably cold.

Truly, I cherish these moments. Though little is said, much is understood. Mainly what they begin to realize is that we are going to come. Soon. What was a cautious hope begins to take shape in their eyes—starts to show in the corners of their mouth turning into a relieved smile—is heard in a sigh. The picture presented to us at that moment was of God already at work in the lives of the people we are called to serve—already preparing the hearts of each of the participants coming to do His work.

Over President’s day weekend some 1,400 people will travel to Puerto Peñasco to build more than 50 homes. The photos to the right are some of these families. They are still waiting. And after we have presented them with the keys to their new house and they go on to make it a home, there will still be more families. Waiting. And though the irony of my GPS usage is debatable, the desperation of their situation is not. We need groups to build more homes. We need people to give of their income to be able to expand this work to new areas where the need is so great. We need people to pray for us like life depends on it, because it does.

Get involved. Do something for someone in need. Go to Mexico. If you don’t go to Mexico then go somewhere else. Take the opportunity to show Christ to someone because that’s what it means to love.

Peace and thanks.

21 April, 2005

Sitting down to write these Newsletters I sometimes worry about over-romanticizing what our experience is like. With regard to what has taken place this Spring, I don't see this as an issue. In truth I won’t be able to do it justice. Part of the problem lays in Spring still being very much of a blur in my mind. I see glimpses of it in my memory...but even these are more dreamlike than real. The easy way out is to focus on the numbers. 500 homes were built by about 10,000 participants in a 5 week span in 4 cities in Mexico. That is a pretty impressive tag line and I am fairly certain I could stop there and leave a lasting impression of the impact we and our participants have made.

However, I cannot reduce our endeavors, especially our Spring season, to numbers without running the risk of cheapening it. Even if I were to try I would have to include those thousands more from the churches, schools, and communities of our participants who enabled them to come to Mexico through financial support. I would have to mention the thousands who were praying for our ministry and our participants during this busiest of times. To this I would need to add our staff at Amor Ministries and the hundreds of supporters who make it possible for each of us to be here. Aside from this I would mention the host of volunteers who help us coordinate our groups during our peak season. Of course, I could not forget to point out our teams of Mexican Pastors and their families who work tirelessly to bring the love of Christ into their communities everyday. Still there are more. For I must mention that 500 homes means thousands of people now have a sturdy, water-tight house to call their own. I could go on.

But again I must stress focusing on even these limits the potential effects our ministry can have. Because: I cannot measure the impact God has on the life of each participant. Multiply that by 10,000. I cannot determine what the reaction of a teenager returning home from a trip with us will have on their family, their friends, their future. Furthermore, I have no idea how to put a figure on the difference those participants will have on their respective communities. Multiply that by 10,000. Indeed, I certainly cannot calculate the generational effect a new home will have on a Mexican family. Whatever it is, multiply it by 500 in a season, or 1,300 a year, or more than 10,000 and counting in total. Here one begins to get the picture that we can never see the whole picture.

For me, therein lies the rub. I am the type of person who likes to see the lasting impact—the full fruit, if you will—of our labor. But I cannot begin to understand how God works within the infinite variables of each of our lives at the same time to bring us closer to him. Honestly, it blows my mind. At the same time, however, I am eternally thankful that God’s willingness to extend his saving grace to me (us) is not dependent on my (our) ability to quantify the works of his hand.

I do know that in the last five weeks lives were changed, hearts were changed, a difference was made. We fought through hot days, frigid nights, ankle deep mud in our camps, rain saturating our tents, and our campsites being destroyed by wind storms in order to serve God and bring hope to our neighbor. And if in a few years this Spring remains a blur in my mind, I will be content in simply remembering that. I love my job.

2 December, 2004

There is a rumor around our office that the autumn and winter months are the slow time of year for those of us who work on the field team in Mexico. However, looking back over the last few months, little seems slow about it. Indeed, fewer groups come during this part of the year, but the slack time is picked up in projects around the office, moving camps around, trying to visit family and supporters, planning and facilitating trips to Puerto Peñasco, and, if there is any time left, taking some vacation to rest. Naturally, all of this is done outside of our work with the groups that do come during this part of the year and the usual preparations for the upcoming spring when we will be “busy” again.

Even in writing down what we have been up to lately has put my mind in busy mode. But I must pause here to reflect on something: I absolutely love my life. But too often I approach whatever task is in front of me, whether it be laying tile in the office bathrooms or preparing for my group next weekend, without remembering why I do it all — without counting my blessings so to speak...and I am very blessed.

I am at a loss to think of another capacity in which I could experience what goes on here. Where else can I experience the joy of seeing a new church built and within a year be a landmark in the community because of the love and hope it shares? Where else can I offer four days, or three, or two of hard work and see a family transformed? Where else can I go to see people communicate the love of Christ better through laughter, tears, handshakes, and hugs than they ever could even if they spoke the same language (which they usually don’t)? What other job can display to me an act of faith so simple and yet so profound as to bring the church, the whole church, together in a singular point of unity? I could go on...and on...and on.

My point? I’m not sure I have one. But I do want to express what an honor it has been for the last three years to wake up every morning, whether it be in Mexico or San Diego, knowing we are changing lives. It is an honor to drive around on bumpy roads, breathe dust and cement, cut, scrape, and scratch my hands, and fall asleep content in knowing that it was all done loving our neighbor and giving glory to God.

I guess I’m trying to make you all feel as much a part of this as I do. You are. This is your ministry. And while I know I could not be here without your support, the truth is I wouldn’t want to be. What has been the hardest part of being involved in this ministry, raising and maintaining my salary, has also become one of the greatest blessings. Truly I am fortunate to be here seeing and doing, but please know I take you all with me.

So, within the craziness of life, which seems compounded during this season, I pause to thank God for all of you—because I easily count you among my blessings. Thank you so much for allowing me to be here. Peace and Merry Christmas.

10 September, 2003

As is often the case with a summer of working in Mexico, I am left at the end sifting through the many and varied experiences in an attempt to assign a theme to help define what the season meant for me. As I do so, I am bombarded with memories and images of people, places, and projects all differing as widely in their impact as the circumstances involved in each.
Some are as poignant and indescribable as the joy and anticipation on the face of a mother watching a group of strangers, motivated only by love, build a home for her family. Some are as tangible as seeing a church being built from the ground up and knowing in a few short days people would be worshipping in the space we helped provide. Still other memories involve observing the life-changing effects of a short-term mission experience on the lives of participants in nearly every stage of life.
Many of the memories are as personal as sharing a meal with a family I have come to know and love (which involved some of the best pollo con molé I have ever had), or simply finding time to move with my roommates and get settled in the little time we had between groups during the busy summer (we moved at the beginning of July but couldn’t have the house warming party until September).
On the other hand, many experiences are as shared as a whole community coming together to help us build a school wherein classes would be starting in a few weeks. How incredible it was seeing teachers, mothers, government officials, businessmen, bus drivers, neighbors, and pastors, joining together with a group of sixty youth from the Seattle area to finish a two-classroom building. Yet another such moment was being able to take part in a community outreach in one of the areas where we work a great deal. This involved several of our pastors from different denominations pooling their resources and partnering with a sponsoring church from Los Angeles to provide lunch, music, games, an evangelistic program, and a hilarious puppet show for the hundreds in attendance.
In the end, I know no theme can be attached to a summer that has been so emotionally all-inclusive. But I am left thinking that throughout it all we are all part of a community stretching farther than we normally assume. And though I normally would treat the idea of “global community” as another modern day catch phrase, I am beginning to understand we are really separated only by our decisions to remain separate. Coming to know this has made me suppose we truly have a call as followers of Christ to seek to help those in need despite cultural and geographical division. Indeed, no one forces the more than twenty thousand participants we have yearly to embrace the needs of those less fortunate just as no one forces those of you who cannot be down here full time to partner with me financially and prayerfully in a mission with the propensity to touch so many lives. However, I believe it is through voluntary acts like these we can establish a sense of community defying normal boundaries giving us a chance at changing the world.
Accordingly, I want to ask you to consider being an integral part of the team of people that allow me to continue my ministry here. My position is fully supported, meaning I am responsible to raise the funds necessary to live and work here. Because Amor Ministries is an American organization with its head office in San Diego, I need to raise San Diego living wages even though I spend a majority of the year working in Mexico. As such, I need people to consider contributing to my financial needs on a monthly basis. Additionally, I am always in need of prayer as the demands of my position can be extremely taxing on me physically, spiritually, and socially. For those of you who have already joined me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and ask you to share this with someone else who may be interested in supporting our ministry. Please let me know if there is anything else you would like to know about Amor Ministries or me. God Bless.

20 May, 2003

We do not do it because it’s fun. We are not here to experience a different culture. We do not search for the self-satisfaction of helping someone else. We do not come to prove we can do it or to see how far we can push ourselves. It is not about us.
There is a need. We are called to serve those in need. Something in our very fiber commands us to obey that call. That is why we line up in caravan after caravan after caravan of vehicles with “Mexico or Bust,” “Jesus Saves,” and “Van 6 rules!” scribbled in the dust of windows while food, tools, camping gear, and passengers test the weight and space limitations of those vehicles. Accordingly, that is why we chomp at the bit to work longer and harder than would normally seem imaginable in weather that can swing from suffocating heat to torrential downpour in a day. It is why we can enjoy braving bone-jarring roads, breathing dust, drinking lukewarm water, and sweating constantly. It is how we can evacuate communities because in ten minutes the roads will be impassable because of rain, return to a weather-destroyed campsite wherein everything is soaked through, fashion a dinner in six inches of standing water, crowd into a box truck for a few songs, and end the day with smiles across our exhausted faces. Indeed, it is why we would do it all again the next day if necessary.
A spring serving the poor of Mexico in the name of Christ has a beauty that transcends normal patterns of thought. Truly, we do push ourselves to see if we can do it. We do feel the rewarding joy of helping those in need. We are blessed to experience a rich and beautiful culture. Undeniably, we are able to observe the determination of people to conquer severe adversity, despite various failures along the way. And we do have an alarming amount of fun. However, the true beauty lays in the fact all of these results come after we have made our agendas secondary to the necessities of others. We are loving someone in need. It is glory to God. The rest is a byproduct.
Thanks from all of us to all of you who continue to make this happen. Our lives are such that we are in a constant position to see people at their best when situations seem at their worst. And I believe seeing people at their absolute best, despite any circumstance, is to briefly look through the eyes of God.

15 March, 2003

During the past couple of months I have had more than a few opportunities to discover and experience what I believe is a foundational necessity to this ministry, and indeed to our everyday lives. It is the issue to respond.
Every person we encounter, every need we see, every crisis that arises in our daily lives requires a response. That response could be as easy as a helping hand, as intense as a protest march, or as quiet as kneeling in prayer. At times we respond simply by turning our heads. Undeniably, we do this forgetting our silence is often a deafening response.
Every person working here at Amor Ministries has recognized a great need in Mexico and come to the conclusion they cannot look the other way while neighbors separated only by a political line in the sand struggle to provide for themselves such basics as food and shelter. We must respond. Indeed, the vision statement for Amor Ministries, which is printed on ever business card we give out, reads, “Amor Ministries is called by God to respond to the spiritual and physical poverty in the world. We respond through: Partnership with the church, Resources for the poor, and Life-changing mission experiences.”
To that end, and by the grace of God, we were recently able to change the lives of countless people in the city of Puerto Peñasco, Sonora. Over President’s Day weekend, I was privileged to help facilitate more than 1,100 people from some twenty-seven groups build thirty-nine houses and a women’s center in what are some of the poorest areas of Mexico. Likewise, we are preparing to receive nearly 7,500 participants in March and April to build nearly four hundred homes, churches, and schools.
Clearly, the issue to respond is something we take very seriously here. We have found a place where God can use our gifts and circumvent our limitations to simply make the world a better place. Thousands have discovered the empowerment and blessing that comes from acting on this need (including many of you), and perennially return to Mexico with a dedication bordering on addiction.
In similar fashion, your continued prayer and support are a response to the needs of this ministry and its staff (like me). Thank you for making what we do here possible.

16 January, 2003

It is nearly impossible to condense the past year into a page and convey with any accuracy the joy, heartbreak, blessings, trials, and growth I have seen and experienced. It seems cliché to say, but words are truly insufficient to show those who have not seen this world any glimpse of the impact you and I have here in Mexico. It is seen in the smile of a Mexican child helping build his new home and the tears of a mother looking out the window of the first home she has ever owned. It is realized in the wonder of youth pastors seeing the lives of teenagers changed forever over the course of four days. What happens here can be recognized in lives of participants who cannot help but take their many comforts less for granted and be more thankful for what they have. It is echoed for years to come in people’s remembrances in recalling the first moment they realized the world is so much bigger than they.

This year has beautifully unfolded into a continuous progression of these moments and many more of like kind. I never grow weary of seeing the gratitude of a Mexican family receiving a house with a roof that won’t leak in the next storm. Likewise, I can never tire of hearing the phrases saying, “as much as I thought I would be giving to the Mexican family, I received far more from them in return,” which seem to regularly permeate the final campfires of our participants. Seeing how God uses the vast array of people who come on Amor trips and works in the lives of the families we serve has reminded me that God in fact does not call the qualified, he qualifies those who respond to His call. And, contrary to what may be our natural direction of thought, He uses those in need as vessels to bless those with plenty.

I was recently able to experience this paradox in a profound way while working with a group of middle school students. This group from Nevada had decided to forfeit their normal holiday routines and spend the turn of the New Year building a home for a very needy family. The Quintero-Tapia family, consisting of Francisco, his wife Enis Yesenia, and their five children ranging in age from two to seventeen, were living in a one-room structure with a tarp as a roof and dirt as a floor. They met us with smiling anticipation as we drove in to begin construction and worked long hours alongside us all of the four days it took to complete the project.

What is amazing about this family is not so much its willingness to work with us, but rather the conditions from which they helped us. Francisco and Enis worked from morning till night with us on every stage of the project, which included hand mixing and pouring a 22’x22’ cement slab. What we later learned was Francisco, at age fifty-five, had seriously injured his back and had been unable to find work for some months as the prospects for a job are few in Mexico to a man in his condition. Additionally, we discovered from neighbors that Enis, aside from raising five children, had to fight bouts of epilepsy without being able to regularly afford medication. Furthermore, in order for us to have sufficient space to build their new home, the family had to tear down the existing house and spend more than one night spread between the shed in which they kept their rabbits and chicken, and whatever accommodations their neighbors could afford them. This willingness to sacrifice out of a necessity-born desperation reminded me of the holy family’s forced beginning in a stable. As we were able to share our resources with them, they shared with us a joyful faith that God would provide for them in all things. It was an honor for us to allow them an opportunity to begin this year in new home with a strong roof, sturdy walls and a cement floor.

Stories like this are not the exception here. They are the norm. One of the most frequent questions I receive is “are we really making a difference?” My answer is always “yes.” We, you and I, are making a difference and changing the world. We are doing it one family at a time.