As for me and my house...

Decisions come all the time in life. Some of them as are simple as what color underwear to put on, and other times they are complicated enough to change the course of history. This year has been full of decisions for me. Thankfully, I get to make a large number of these decisions alongside other people, especially my friends and fellow missioners, Guissell and Mark.

The most recent, most worrisome, most exciting decisions we've made lately is to rent a house together as an experiment in intentional community. We looked for a long time, and we've found a place not far from our mentors, communities, or transportation. It's a big house with 6 rooms, 6 bathrooms, large open areas for hosting, and a kitchen in the back. We're dreaming of an office, a prayer room, movie nights for youth, community dinners, and all sorts of things.

None of us are unhappy with our current living situations. I'm still with my host family. Mark lives in a room in a house like a university student, mostly independent. Guissell lives with our mentors Gordon and Peggy, whom we affectionately call Guissell's grandparents (though they're not quite that old). However, we want a place where we can host people and live in an open, generous way. We desire a place to welcome people and show them hospitality. We dream of a community of learning and sharing. We would like to see God's Kingdom demonstrated in our lives and in our home.

"As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24;15) That's what we want. A house that serves the Lord, a place for ministry. In some ways it's a sacrifice to leave our comfortable living situations. We know this could go terribly wrong. We could fight over who cleans the fridge, how we'll pay the bills, or whether or not someone should invite their youth group to our house. We could be robbed. We could be taken advantage of. We could be a horrible example of the love of Christ and just be one more group of spoiled tourists who want to live their own way.

But we're praying and believing that won't happen.

 “Now therefore revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord.  Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” Joshua 24:14-15.

In the strength of the Spirit, we will reject the gods of consumerism, of protecting what's ours, of selfishness and pride. We will serve the Lord and follow wherever he leads. So far, that's what we've been doing.

We weren't sure about where we should live, or what the house should be like. When we first dreamt about a communal living situation 2 months ago, it seemed unlikely that it would work. Plus, it's hard to decide where to live. But I was reading a book called Submerge, and one excerpt particularly impacted me:

Choice is at the very heart of the incarnation. As John Perkins used to say, nailing one’s feet to the floor limits one’s horizons and can feel like dedication to smallness. Acquiring authenticity and intimacy with a community takes years and precludes other options. Although he could have ministered incarnationally to the upper strata of Egyptian society, Moses found that he could throw in his lot credibly with only one people, his Hebrew brothers and sisters. Jesus, as multifaceted as He was, focused on the Jews, trusting that His followers would minister incarnationally to other people, other places. Incarnational ministry means giving up the heady illusion that “I can do everything” (or “anything I put my mind to”). For Western Christians especially, weaned on multiple options, the act of choosing and its consequences can be experienced as a substantial loss. (John Hayes, Submerge, 139)

So here we are, the Caminantes in Nicaragua, choosing to incarnate in this particular way. We're not sure exactly what this ministry will look like, but we're hopeful that it will be something that God uses for his glory. Actually, we're sure of that.

This house is $350 a month, plus utilities. At first we weren't sure if we should go for it because it has no furniture. But we decided to step out in faith and trust that God will provide what we need if this is the place for us. The landlady waited for our decision 3 weeks, after all. She says other people have asked her about it, but she really wants to rent to us. She's letting us sign a 7 month contract, which is really unusual. She re-outfitted most of the plumbing fixtures and painted the whole house. It's a good location.

Many people have already pledged to lend us things. We have a stove, a fridge, and beds accounted for. That's huge! So God is already giving us the gifts we need. I got some extra money recently that I can invest in the house.

See, another problem with the furniture is that out of our volunteer budgets we can't pay for furniture or household items. It has to do with tax laws. So we are trusting God to give us furniture and money to buy what we need. If you would like to support this endeavor, please contact me. In the mean time, pray for blessings to shower down so that we can move into a furnished house by June 5.

 A view of our front porch, garage, gate area from the street

You can see into the house a bit from this shot. There are four bedrooms facing that open courtyard area in the middle. In front of the rooms are a living room and another room we're hoping to use as an office.

We'll be living in the cream-yellow house right next to our landlady.

Promise Church

"Today is the Day of the Worker (Labor Day) and we celebrate workers by taking a day off. Paradoxical, isn't it?"

That's how Pastor Obed opened his sermon last night. He then proceeded to talk about work and rest, and how Jesus invites us to rest in him. "Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest," he says in Matthew 11:28.

Talking about rest in church on a day celebrating workers was good. I didn't feel a particular need for rest. I mean yes, I'm tired, but not abnormally. I think about the deep weariness and desolation I felt last year, and I think that I'm pretty well-balanced. Does that mean that I've taken Jesus' yoke upon me, or just that I'm ignoring my true emotions? Probably a little of both.

Again, it's paradoxical that Jesus offers rest by putting his burden on us. On the other hand, his yoke is way easier than the yoke I put on myself. When I need to be in control, directing things, being efficient, getting things done, I get tired because I'm not relying on God. I want to do things my way, and I think they won't get done if I don't do them properly. Not true.

28 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

 After the sermon, we had a time of prayer together as a church. Because it was a holiday, and usually Thursday night services are not full anyway, there were a maximum of 20 people there. We gathered around the front of the church together, praying for rest. Giving our burdens to Jesus and asking for his yoke instead.

I love going to this church, Promise Christian Community. It's a church plant that's only about 4 years old. I get to be just one of the congregants there, not a missionary or someone who expected to do extraordinary things. People are honest in their worship, and the pastors preach from passages in context, not pulling random verses from all of the Bible to prove a point. Last night, as we prayed together, I was reminded of the importance of worshiping with a group of people.

I didn't feel particularly in need of rest, but I was reminded that some people are. One woman knelt on the floor, hands spread apart, and wept. The pianist continued to hit chords while kneeling down and weeping. I heard people speaking in tongues occasionally, something like "ah - baba- yaba - ahaaa." One woman in the congregation starts singing opera notes when she's praying very emotionally. I smiled to see a two year old girl copying her mother, both kneeling with their heads resting on their hands on the floor. Another woman was smiling, lifting her hands and swaying with her eyes fixed on the ceiling. A man behind me shouted phrases of thanksgiving. A young man occasionally shot up his hands in the air while he prayed. Someone next to me opened his arms wide. All of these expressions of emotions in worship remind me that God is bigger than my comfort zone. He speaks to us in different ways, and he accepts the variety of our expressions of prayer to him.

Promise is a place where people can come to Jesus, and he accepts them. No matter how we dress, how we pray, how we sing, we come before the one who carries our burdens. He gives us purpose. And when we do it together, I think our praise is all the more rich for the variety we demonstrate. With Jesus, we find rest for our souls.

Me with the pastoral family from Promesa and a woman from a team that visited.

The outside of Promesa (Promise) 

The entrance to the worship area

The area where we worship. We all gathered around the front where the flowers are last night.