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Are You An Evangelist?

May 30, 2012

Sunday morning we arose feeling refreshed and well rested, and ready to hit the road to the Agalta Valley where we would be staying. At breakfast I had planned to share a devotional with the group, being Sunday morning and all, and my pastoral habits die hard. Glenn saw me with my Bible at the table, and I’m not sure if he knew I was a pastor or not, but he asked me, “Are you going to serve as our evangelist for the week?” I’m sure gonna try, in whatever form that may take. I’m hoping we all will.

After breakfast we explored Juticalpa (it turned out the devotional would have to wait) and walked through town and to the marketplace. Jeff and Glenn found a couple of veterinarian offices and posed for pictures along the way. While most American vet signs have some form of cat and dog in their logo, these Honduran vet signs had dogs and cows, appropriately enough.

Turning down the next road we saw a man outside painting the walls of his shop a bright fuchsia color. Claire happened to be wearing a shirt almost the exact same color, so she stopped to take a picture with the matching walls. While posing with the painter we discovered he had lived in the States for some time, including Marietta for a year. Even more exciting was discovering that inside the bright walls was a bike shop. Kinsey couldn’t resist buying some neon colored spoke beads for her kids; the same ones we had as kids in the 80’s. Next we stopped by a local fruit stand and sampled some fresh avocado and bought supplies for guacamole later.

Claire’s shirt matched the fresh paint of his bike shop storefront.

As we came into the square, a local news reporter caught our attention and arranged an interview with Kinsey. Apparently a group of gringos sticks out pretty well, and no matter how hard we tried, we were not blending in. The reporter asked Kinsey numerous questions about what our group was doing down in Honduras and what we thought about the country. “Are you an evangelist?” he asked. “Si.” (Funny, it was the second time I’d heard that question today.) She handled herself pretty well; especially considering the reporter was holding his camera about six inches away from her face. She talked about our mission here to help out in the villages by building latrines and teaching VBS. He closed his interview with these words, “the most important thing is sharing the love of God. Can you do it?” She assured him we could. We’ll be looking for a TV later in the week to see our evangelistic star on the news.

Apparently our trip to Honduras is deemed newsworthy.

From there we crossed the street to visit the church, where people were gathering for Sunday services. We discovered a brilliant new fundraising campaign by watching the children outside the church steps, selling orders of worship for the church service. On one side of the entrance to the church was a table piled high with Bibles and crosses of all shapes, colors and sizes, for sale of course. On the other side of the entrance was a table covered with food. It was interesting to consider this scenario, and I imagined Jesus turning over tables, complaining about his temple being made into a marketplace. Singing broke forth from inside the church and you could tell services were beginning as we were herded toward the vehicles for our next stop.

Shopping outside the church

After a quick shopping trip at the market, we were loaded up and ready to finish our journey to Rancho el Paraiso where we would spend the remainder of the week.

At one point someone made this remark: “The rides will become one of your favorite parts of this trip.” Each day consists of several hours’ worth of rides in the Range Rovers and becomes a significant part of the trip. There’s plenty of time for conversation of every flavor, from serious to silly to downright weird. You bond together as a team over the lack of personal space as you’re packed in like sardines amongst your bags and supplies. As you bump along the choppy road there are occasional unison groans as everyone gets tossed in the air flying over a pothole. Trail mix and gum are shared liberally as we flinch at the cold rainwater dripping through the ceiling. It’s an experience like no other, but one you simply would not trade for the world.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Linda permalink
    May 30, 2012 3:33 am

    Love your comments. We showed loved to over 30 kids with Summer Manna and guess
    what, it was raining from the tropical waves of Beryl…we got soaked but the children’s
    faces say it all….prayers for you.

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