MiniMOVE in Bolivia.
Last July we helped Josue and Keren teach a
two-week intensive course at our old school in Bolivia. I think it was Jeff who
dubbed it mini-MOVE. When we arrived, all our ex-students came rushing out to
give us the typical warm and dramatic welcome for returning teachers. The next
day most of them left for their mid-year vacation along with most of the staff
and school directors. Fifteen remained to take our classes. As the old hand in
our group, I was chosen to deal with all the utility problems on campus, and I
subsequently received a not-so-warm welcome from the water-system. I spent the
first two days trouble-shooting and fixing leaks.
The rest of my participation included a week-long
seminar on music, classes on missions and evangelism, oratory, and an attempt
to teach the mechanic elective. As a mere dilettante, I tried to keep the class
simple. We concentrated on small engine maintenance and repair, and found no
shortage of fodder to practice on. Additionally I planned to change the engine
and transmission oil in the Tundra, but the new oil cost $50 that we didn’t
have. I left Josue a message on his phone, asking how much money was available
for mechanics class, and Dax, the store owner overheard me and asked me how
much oil I needed.
“Six quarts of each” I replied.
“Take it!” he said. “That will be
my contribution.”
God took care of our needs at every
turn!
During our outreach activity to a
nearby village, I was worried about how my mechanics students would perform
after a measly two weeks of instruction from a rookie posing as a mechanics
teacher!
“Lord, please give us skill. Help
us be able to help someone!” I prayed.
Two villagers showed up with their failing generators. Praise God, my students
were able to get both running in the exact amount of time we had! To me, that
was a small miracle.
“When are you coming to our
village?” a visiting spectator asked. Again I see the potential for mechanic
evangelists.
Fifteen students graduated from our
two-week intensive and committed to an additional month of volunteer missionary
service upon finishing their school year. I believe they are planning a trip to
the Amazon.
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| Back row from left: Angel, Willians, Roberto, Brayan, Freddy, Hansel, David Front from left: Maria Quell, Sharon, Maria Jose, Esmeralda, Gabriela, Reiny, Rosa, Rosalia |
Back in Mexico, Lyli and I spent 10
days with my in-laws and my nephew and nieces, Samuel, Ghiani, and Naomi. That
was a mission project in itself! Lyli made them a daily schedule, and I took
them jogging in the mornings and then helped them do chores and practice their
instruments. On Sabbath we took them to play music to some shut-ins.
I’m an unsatisfactory missionary
July 28, 2017: Today we are back on MOVE
campus. Everywhere I look says WORK. More work than a body can process. The
Dodge has a blown rear tire. The Admiral needs insurance and license renewed,
but not before a repair job for the backup-lights and brakes. My watermelon
plants have disappeared, and the spinach vine is clinging to life, some of
which is detrimental to its own existence. My yard is a loud green snarl that’s
downright scary, although underneath the bluster is just a cry for a little
TLC. Our resident iguana that lives in the driveway culvert, however, seems to
be enjoying the thicker levels of nature that accrued in our absence.
I find it an excellent metaphor for our ferocious,
sin-infested jungle of a world. The harvest is passing and everywhere I look I
see untended fields and that despicable dragon lording over them with a smug
smile of satisfaction for our negligence. The harvest is passing, precious
fruit is lost daily.
The large Chinese population here in Belize is virtually
untouched with the gospel. The Mennonite communities may have their religion,
but many are unhappy and unsatisfied and long for the joy and hope that only
comes with the pure, unadulterated truth. According to our district pastor, 40%
of male youth in Belize are in prison.
I have this burning sensation slowly gaining ground in my
soul. Oh Lord, teach us to love people as you. May this accumulating sense of
urgency translate into ceaseless action in the field of duty. May we stop
waiting for opportunities to press themselves upon us, and learn to make them
appear, and see them everywhere.
Tonight at supper in the cafeteria, Julliette was all that
Keila, Keren and the rest of the girls could talk about as they recounted one
conversation after another that they each have had with her over the last four
days. Juliette is a globetrotter from
France, hitch-hiking her way through Belize. Somehow she met Keila somewhere on
the road between here and Chetumal, they got to talking, and Keila brought her
here where she stayed four days and absolutely devoured everything Biblical and
spiritual. She wanted to know everything about everything: God, the Bible, the
Sabbath, healthful cooking, and gardening.
In her own words, “I was tired of living the ‘normal’ life of
go to school, work all week, dress up nice and go out to party with friends on
the weekend and then do it all over again. It felt so pointless.” So she has
been traveling, trying to find the meaning of life. Praise God, it seems like
she found it here! She called her mom back in France: “Mom, I want to be a
missionary!” she announced. Later she told Keila she wants to come back here
and take the missionary training course.
How many more are there out there like
Juliette, disgusted with the emptiness of the world, looking for something
worthy of investing their short life in? Must we wait for them to show up on
our door and beg to know the truth? Lord, please teach me to be a real
missionary.
