Honduras . . . October 23 to November 2, 2009

As most of you know, Sharon’s (my wife´s) body has not been functioning very well over the past few years. As a result, I have not been traveling as much and certainly not far from home.  I have concentrated on studying and teaching 5 hours of Bible classes per week. As Sharon´s condition has improved to the point that I felt comfortable leaving her alone, I have taken 11 days to GO TELL the Hondurans about the Awesome Grace of God.

I arrived in Tegucigalpa Friday, the 23rd of October. The plane was almost empty and the airport was deserted. There was a tremendous fear of some kind of an upheaval due to the political problems which you have probably read about, centering around the ousted president, Manuel Zelaya, and Honduras’ interim president, Roberto Micheletti.  What a great opportunity for them to lift up their eyes unto the hills from whence cometh their help (Psa 121:1)

As soon as I arrived in Tegucigalpa I looked for a hotel close to the Central Park. I installed myself in a room and took off for the park with my backpack on and my board under my arm. The park is about five blocks from the Hotel Granada.  I know from doctrine and by experience that our Lord provides the hearers (the "magnetism" of the Grace of God).  I found a very nice, big tree. The bench around the tree was full of people.  I waited for someone to move so that I could have a space to place my board.  I stood on the bench to wrap my bungie around the tree and hook it to the board. The person who was sitting next to my place stood up and helped me hang the board.  Before arriving I had already written Rom 8:32 on the board.  He started to read it and when he finished, I asked him, "How do you like that?  Isn’t that incredible?"  By the way, at the top of the board I had also written, NO TE PREOCUPES POR NADA!! ¿QUÉ TE PASA? (Do not worry about anything! What is the matter with you?).  Well, you should have seen it.  It was incredible!  People would stop and listen for long periods of time, some as much as two hours, as I paraded them through the barrier, the essence box, and all those teeny weeny details of grace that I have learned throughout the years and continue learning.  Of course, all of this adventure was in Español.  There is no way that I can explain the response. I can just tell you that it was Great!  As I looked at the crowd in front of me, I noticed an old man (probably my age, therefore, not old at all) who, though present, never faced me. When the other people left, he remained.  I approached him and he started to tell me about all of his miseries. Once he has finished, I summarized  by saying, “Let’s see . . . you have lost everything; you have no job; nobody loves you; the pastor won’t help you; etc.  . . . ,”  “Sí,” he confirmed. With great enthusiasm, I seized his hand, shook it vigorously and said, “Congratulations!  What a fantastic thing has happen to you!”  He looked at me like I was crazy. “You are a perfect candidate for the grace of God,” I told him. “Because you are weak, you can rest on Divine provisions and then you will be strong.” The light dawned and he became so excited that he kept on hugging me.  I gave him all the basic doctrinal provisions he would need for the rest of his trip on this earth.  Saturday was a repeat performance of Friday.

Sunday, at noon, I planned to take a bus to a town called Comayagua.  When I arrived at the bus station, I found out that the bus that was supposed to go to Comayagua actually did not stop there.    With my two backpacks and dufflebag I walked down a hill and arrived to another bus station and still no bus that went to Comayagua.  I was told to go to another bus station that was around the block and up another the hill.  I should interject here that Honduras is a mass of hills and when I make one of these trips my backpacks and dufflebag are packed with publications and CDs and not much clothing.  I was assured that the bus station up the second hill had buses that did go directly to Comayagua.  I arrived and, yes, in fact, they did have buses that went to Comayagua, so I bought a ticket.  I gave my bags to the driver and as he was putting the bags in the baggage compartment of this old, old, retired American school bus, I noticed that the front wheel had only three of the seven lugs it was supposed to have.  I observed to the driver . . . “Hey, Chief, have you noticed that your front wheel has only three lugs?  He looked at me and said, “Oh, no problema.  Don’t worry about it!”   Considering discretion to be the better part of valor, I asked for my baggage back.  I didn’t bother to get a refund, thinking the company could probably use the money for wheel lugs.

By this time I was exhausted and didn’t think I could muster another up and down the hill jaunt, so I decided to take a cabbie back to the previous bus station.  I asked a tamale vendor what was the next town that had a good number of inhabitants.  At that point a man interrupted and said, “MARCALA.”  He said the population was 30,000, so I said, “Let’s go!”  Since he was going my way or I guess, I was going his way, he grabbed my duffle bag and started to walk to another of the bus stations that I had already visited.  On the way he asked me what I did.  I told him that I worked for a very, very, large company, and the owner was very, very powerful and gave incredible benefits.  He slowed down, looked at me and said, “I think I work for the same company.  I am a pastor.”  Well, we got on the bus and a three-hour trip passed like it was 20 minutes.  I gave him all kinds of publications, a CD of Lo Básico (The Basics) and a “llave maya” (jump drive or thumb drive) that has all the notes of my classes and the Colonel’s doctrines – all in Spanish,

Marcala turned out to be a small village up in the mountains.  As per my regular routine, I located a hotel and went to the park with my board to spend the afternoon communicating to those who wanted to hear.  The park was full of people.  I noticed that there were some individuals organizing other people into groups while simultaneously talking on their cell phones.  They were giving instruction to bring the vehicles to pick up the people that were now grouped.   It looked like gathering workers at the time of the coffee harvest in Costa Rica, but I knew that it was not a harvest, at least not of coffee beans.  In the back of my mind I suspected activities of the La Resistencia (the Resistance).  These people were in support of ex-President Manuel Zelaya and they were organizing to resist participation in the scheduled election of a new president on November 29th.  Just to confirm my suspicions, I asked a person what was going on and he told me,  “We are part of the Resistance and we are going up into the hills where there will be organizational meetings.” Now my raw instinct was to give them a dissertation on establishment, but that was not the right moment, the right time or the right setting.  There were young women and teenagers, as well as mature, rural men. As I was talking to a small group of about seven that were waiting for the “pickups,” a young man who was “four sheets to the wind,” asked me what was I doing there.  I told him that I wanted to share Rom 8:32 – the theme of this trip.  Despite his inebriated state, he obviously had some knowledge of the Bible.  He started to talk about some passages in Revelation.  Actually, the only one that made any sense in that entire crowd was a man who had one to many Coronas the night before and then tried “the hair of the dog” in the morning. 

I began to talk to a man who was paralyzed from the waist down.  For context, you must realize that the vast majority of these people know who Jesus Christ is.  They pray to an idol of Him on a cross, though He is risen.  They also have fervently prayed to Mary, the mother of His humanity.  Some of them are born again and some are unbelievers, but all are full of a thick darkness of religion.  When the light of the Gospel, of the truth, ekes its way through, shining brightly in their spiritual and temporal darkness, the scales begin to fall off the eyes of their souls.  They hear about who and what God is; how He has loved them since eternity past; what it means to be made in the image of God; the reality of their freedom before God and the TOTAL and COMPLETE satisfaction of God with the work of His Son on the cross.  Then, with their eyes bright and their mouths half-open, they listen to all that God has done for them after the cross, all wrapped up in a personal, tailor-made plan for each of them.  Now, mind you, the relating of these incredible truths is done in their native language, with the idioms of the street, with a sense of humor and without the rigid, stilted, “beloved brethren” language of the legalistic Christendom of today.  They came - young ladies, children, old ladies, men.  They gathered.  They listened in the midst of all their adversities to Rom 8:32 “Si Dios no escatimó ni a su propio hijo . . .” and Heb 12:2  “Puestos los ojos en Jesus, quien por la felicidad puesta delante de Él soportó la cruz” and all the other verses related to the FACT, the REALITY of propitiation, redemption, reconciliation, unlimited payment and tetelestai.  And so went the afternoon, until I ran out of voice. 

On Monday morning the park had fewer people than the day before.  One thing we can be sure of, we always have provisions for one day at a time – first for our intimacy with Him and then for our relationships with those around us and our circumstances.  While I was in the park, I noticed an evangelical church.  The plaque over the door said that it had been founded in 1933.  I went in and asked for the pastor.  They appeared to be remodeling.  A boy and a girl met me at the door and said that the pastor was not there.  When I asked, they gave me his address - 100 meters this way, turn at the fig tree, and when you arrive at the house with the black roof then you turn, etc.  With the typical Central American address instructions in hand, I went looking for the pastor.  Usually you have to stop and ask about three or four more people to get a refined fix on the location.  One of my stops was a barber shop.  The barber was sitting in his chair conversing with a man and a woman.  I asked them for directions again to the pastor’s home and the barber came out and pointed to the location of the pastor’s house.   I arrived, but nobody answered at the door.  I decided to go back to the barber shop to ask if I could leave a package of publications with a CD for the pastor.  When I arrived, the barber and the other man asked me in.  They were very curious as to what I was up to – a Mexican with a whiteboard under his arm.  They asked me if I taught the Bible.  Well that did it!  To make a very long, three-hour story short, I had the privilege to summarily communicate all that I have learned for forty some odd years.  They wanted to get something to eat and continue all night, but my voice was almost gone and it was time to go.  Sort of like Johnny Appleseed, I gave them their provisions for the road and told them I would send more upon request.  Situations like these provide me with the opportunity to savor the years of the studying and teaching by my pastor-teacher so that I, in turn, can serve it to other believers and pastors.

Tuesday morning I went to the road to catch the bus that would take me to a town close by, La Paz.  I found a B/B and spent most of the day in the park sharing the news of salvation with a small number of people.  The majority were cab drivers as I had located myself near their stand.  Since I was a cabbie in Houston for several years, it was easy to start a conversation and continue on with the realities of life, i.e. “If you die tonight where do you go?”

Wednesday morning I decided to go and visit some pastors.  I hadn’t visited any since arriving.  That task usually puts me into a state of consternation due to years of experience in talking with pastors who are phony as a lead nickel, who have no interest in the Word of God, but in programs, tithing and sacrilegious emotional madness.  I always end up doing it because I know in the haystack there is one and that one can make a generational difference. I grabbed a cabbie and asked him to take me to some churches.  Most of the ones he knew were Pentecostals, but he named one Baptist church that interested me.  The pastor’s wife answered the door.  She asked me to come in since her husband, the pastor, would be back very soon.  He arrived in a matter of minutes.  At the beginning, he seemed rather defensive.  I suppose no one likes to come home to a total stranger sitting in his living room.  Soon we began to develop rapport where it really counts, the Word of God.  He is incredibly positive!  The pastor told me he that he is a real student, but has no tools with which to study.  I told him that I had just started giving a course of New Testament Greek via video conferencing on the Internet on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  He was so enthusiastic that I offered to send him the first of three volumes of the course so that he could get up to snuff and continue with us through the video conferences.  The Greek course is an excellent programmed course in Spanish, developed by an American woman, a graduate of Wheaton College, who teaches in a seminary here in Costa Rica.  I gave the pastor a jump drive with all of my class notes and doctrines of the Colonel in Spanish, a CD of Lo Básico, publications, and graphs.  Now he is loaded!  If he is consistent, he will know the truth and the truth will make him free and equip him to make the hearers the Lord brings him also free.  On Thursday morning, I received a call from another pastor on the Caribbean coast who had talked to the pastor in La Paz and wanted to get on the study tools bandwagon.  Before I left La Paz, I left a package of materials with the pastor in La Paz for the other pastor, because there was no way that I could get to the coast on this trip.

Wednesday afternoon I left for Comayagua, found a place to park my body and my things and went to the park.  This park is very beautiful and picturesque.  They had Spanish and American oldies piped in on a loud speaker system.  There weren’t a lot of takers in this park, but it certainly gave me the ambiance for a breather.

Thursday morning, I went to visit some churches but couldn’t find any shepherds.  All the cabbies I tried only knew churches of Jehovah Witnesses and Mormons. The only thing that the cabbies knew of were Jehova Witnesses, Mormons and international organizations related to the United Nations.  I asked every cabbie, “If you die today where would you go and I am not talking about your body?  They really did not know what to answer, which gave me the privilege of communicating the Good News.   Having decided to move on I took a cab to the bus station.  I asked him the same question, but this driver turned and looked me in the face, smiling, and said,  “I am going to heaven.” When I asked him how he knew, he said “Because Jesucristo paid for all my sins and I have believed in Him!”  Wow!!!  There was a lot of excitement in that cab on the way to the bus station.  He told me that a pastor friend that had taught him was arriving from La Paz so I filled  him with provisions for himself and the pastor.  I told him to get back to me if they wanted more.  I always have to emphasize to people that everything is free.  They are so used to gimmicks and being milked that when you offer them something, they immediately think you are trying to get something in return.  By the way, in Honduras the most commonly asked question was about tithing.  I assured them that there is no tithing in our times, the Church Age.  Tithing was an income tax for Israel as a theocracy, not a spiritual offering, while giving is the privilege of commemorating God’s grace, once you understand it.  I hypothesize with them, “Can you imagine the God of the Universe interested in your miserable 10%?”

Thursday noon I arrived in Siguatepeque (seqwatepek).  The key in a new town is always the right cabbie – a pro who knows where everything is.  I found one right off the bat and he took me to churches and when the church was closed, he knew where the pastor lived.  We contacted a number of pastors that afternoon.   The next day, Friday, my driver-administrator and I visited a total of 12 pastors in the privacy of their homes.  Some were very excited about the information and some were very defensive.

Regardless of the attitude of any given pastor, I maintain the same level of enthusiasm with every one of them.  The issue is the importance of having information in order to teach information.  When I point out the very sad condition of the local church today due to no teaching of the Word of God and emphasis on emotion, they agree with me.  We talk about the ignorance of spirituality, because if true spirituality were understood, there would be uncontrollable hunger for the Word of God and its daily teaching. 

Saturday morning , I returned to Comayagua where I had been unable to do much in the park or with pastors.  It took three tries before I found a good cabbie . . . for my purposes.  We visited a number of pastors and I shared the materials that I had left for their studying and teaching.  We did visit a number of them throughout the afternoon.

I moved on to Tegucigalpa on Sunday morning.  Unable to contact any pastors because they were in services, I used that afternoon to study for the coming week of classes.  I flew back to Costa Rica on Monday morning in a virtually empty plane.

The Hondurans are suffering, but my experience says, they are positive.  This was a very positive trip and I look forward to another trip in the near future, revisiting positive people that I met and moving on to new parts of Costa Rica. 

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