The Refrigerator

By a twist of events we landed in the basement for prayer. We were a bunch of men sitting around asking God to pour out love, and as we sat emptying out hearts and refilling, recharging with that sweet Spirit of the Lord, I became aware of the old refrigerator next to me.  

It was gurgling and churning, chugging away.   It was scraped up, dented, paint chipped, and soiled from its many years living in the basement....yet here it was next to me, whirring.

It was doing its job.

I don't know the brand name of the refrigerator.  I don't know how old it is, how well it's made, or how much it cost the day it was wheeled off the showroom floor.   Don't really care.

It's doing what it was designed to do.

Fulfilling its purpose.

Plugged into the source of power, and it's working.

God,

To the rest of this world, make me like this refrigerator.

If I can just keep plugged into the source, if I can remember daily that my value, my identity, is found in You, I'll be able to do the things in this world that You designed me to do.

The world might kick me shut now and then, doors might slam shut from time to time, and on that outer shell if I've really lived, there should be an ample amount of scrapes and scars.  Life should be soiled into my pores.

But on the inside, where the power of Your Love flows, I'll be filled.

Not measured by the standard of man, but instead by the breadth of Your Hand.

When I'm held by You my name, my status, my rights.... my glory is not my own.  

Help me to do just what You built me to do.

In Your Name.

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.  

Eph 2:10

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self–discipline. 

2 Tim 1:7

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. 

1 Cor 13:3

Finding our Place

We're not certain of anything yet, but this may be a possible house to rent in Haiti.  It's actually right on the road I just mapped in March.  We'd need to look at digging a public well, which carries a hefty cost.  I think it could be a great place to start, bringing clean water.  I seem to recall a story of another man, sitting at a well, talking to a woman about a different kind of water...the eternally quenching kind. :)

There is something more to pray about.
It's possible we may open a home for the restaveks in the area, under the wing of Mission Haiti.
We don't know any details right now, but we would appreciate prayer.
If we do open a home for these kids, this house obviously wouldn't do. Maybe when I go in July God will give me a great big flaming arrow, pointing the direction.  Maybe I'll hear him say, "Go Ye Forth, Daniel!"
Mostly I think He'll just smile, and ask me if I trust...after all, the big flaming arrow and the voice of Charlton Heston booming just wouldn't be 'Faith', would it?

You know when your toddler is finally getting confident in his or her steps, you can feel the strength in their legs as they stomp, stomp, stomp, marching along the path.  Then there comes a point when you have to release that death grip they have on your finger, watch them wobble like a duck and see how many steps they'll take.

Perspective

What does it take to be a missionary today?

To do as the bible says, to go and make disciples.
In the workplace, at home, or around the world, 

it really comes down to just one thing.

Perspective.

Really, you say?  What could that possibly have to do with it?

Consider this:

You can go the best school.

You can have the best teachers.

You can have the best training.

You can study under the greatest minds.

You can have the full backing and support of the church.

You can have the blood of royalty flowing through your veins.

You can be gifted in linguistics.  

You can be passionate and full of fire.  

You can be on the cutting edge of society.

You can, in the eyes of the world, be completely and totally accomplished.

You can be gifted.

Guess what?

It still comes down to

 Perspective.

Where you fit in a God-sized economy.

There was another man who was top of the top, best of the best in his class. 

He had all of the above, including

Power.

Money.

Status.

Reputation.

Job security.

The right name.

And yet he considered his entire life-work of accomplishments comparable to one thing:  

Poop.

Yep. Stinky. Smelly, Steamy

Excrement.

Allow me to burn this illustration into your mind:

Take a big whiff...hold it..... really let it sizzle the hairs in your nostrils....

in fact, click on the image and get a nice close-up....

hold it...really study it....

ahhhh.

Can't you almost smell that from where you're sitting?

That's right.  

In Philippians 3:8, Paul said every credential in his life amounted to something so worthless that the mere sight and smell might make you gag, all for the greatness

of just KNOWING Christ.

So what does it take to know Jesus Christ, to be found in Him, to be about 

His business

and not our own?

Perspective.

If you step in a little 'credentials' along the way, whether they be your own or the residual of someone who's traveled the road before you,

no worries.

Just scrape it off and keep walking in the Lord.

When it's His power and not our own, 

that's when we'll have what it takes to make disciples.

Living Life Less-Than

http://www.thegrio.com/news/haiti-still-sick-from-child-slavery-epidemic.php

This report came out today, in an effort to keep light on a problem that's once again largely ignored by the world, Slavery.

The girl we sponsor in Haiti is also a child slave, a restavek.

The modern day equivalent to a house servant.

What I've yet to understand is the perspective, the rationalization.

It's considered normal, common practice. I've even met a pastor who I'm told has a restavek. A Christian.

So where does this line become blurry?

Where did we lose the love that Jesus taught?

You want a roof over your head? You want to live? Then you do anything and everything I tell you. You'll be lucky to sleep on my floor. You might eat if we have anything left over. You will not be on the same par as the family...you will be less-than.

For them, it comes down to the ultimate, basic choice in life.

Do you want to survive or not?

“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.“And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea." ~ Jesus Christ.

300,000

There are 300,000 slaves today in Haiti.  The majority are young girls, and the majority are sexually abused. They call them restaveks.

They have no rights. 

If they are lucky they get to sleep on the floor.

If there's food left over, they might be able to eat.

If it's a good day, there won't be a beating.

They consider themselves to be 'less-than'.   It's something they come to believe over time.

300,000 boys and girls living this way, today.

only one of them do I know.

Just one. 

The bible says that children are a blessing.  They are a treasure.
They are precious in His eyes.

They even have special angels assigned to them,
who get to report directly to God.

If my bible says that, maybe I should get as many bibles as I can
and give them away?
Maybe I should help them read these words?  

My bibles says much more than that,
but don't you think that would be a great place to start?

"See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven
 their angels always see the face of my Father 
who is in heaven." ~Jesus

“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, 

but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, 

it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck 

and to be drowned in the depth of the sea." ~Jesus

The Haitian Amen Song! (courtesy Andi Gedna)

A--Amen ______, A-Amen _________  A-Amen Whoa Amen, Amen!

1. Alelouya

2. an fe yon ti donse - let's make a little dance  (sounds like on fon tee donsay)

3. an fe yon ti chita - let's make a little sit (sounds like on fon tee sheetah)

4. an bese vwa yo - let's sing softly (sounds like on baysay vwa yo)

5. an fe yon ti vole - let's do a little jump (sounds like on fon tee volay)

6. an fwape men yo - let's clap our hands (sounds like on fwapay men yo)

7. fem tande vwa yo - make me hear your voice (sounds like fame tanday vwa yo)

God's Light

In our home in America, I'm always walking around after the sun's up, turning off lights.  It's common to hear the phrase, 'We're on God's light now people!' followed by kids mumbling in the background, 'Yeah, yeah...ok Dad.'

In the schools of Haiti, sometimes the air is so thick, so stale and hot with the humidity, and so dark in the rooms, that the kids come pouring out onto the balconies or the steps of the school to finish their studies.

When I see this, I can't help but think of how precious His light really is.  How revealing and comforting.
While in America it's an option and in Haiti, it's a way of life, I still want to shout 'We're on God's light now people!'

Be Still

This is a picture of Lynn, a missionary in Haiti.
It's one of my favorite images this year.
One of the most important questions I ask as a photographer is, "Where is God's signature?"
I look for moments that define the story I want to tell, and moments that are so genuine and powerful that they will tell their own story and interpret the feeling long after I'm gone.

She has a world-class heart.  Every time I talk to her she is smiling.  While Haiti is probably one of the least friendly places on the planet for a wheelchair, you would never know it talking with Lynn.  Her eyes are always dancing and she's always encouraging.
Once when it was everyone's misfortune and my turn to cook, I cracked open some tuna soaked in oil.  I poured in a ton of warm mayo and began to stir.  The smell was horrendous.  The texture already looked as similar as it gets to vomit, and the oil wasn't breaking down.  My stomach as turning just looking at it.
I'd wasted about 7 cans of tuna, and I didn't know what to do.
When I showed it to Lynn, she just looked at me and smiled.  
"Well, instead of Tuna salad sandwiches we'll just dunk the bread like a dip.  It'll be great!"
When I realized she wasn't kidding, I took the sorriest meal I'd ever made and dumped it out, far away from the house, where we wouldn't have to smell it.  I wasn't going to be the cause of food poisoning for the whole orphanage.  
That girl would have ate it.  And she would have smiled!  That's how sweet her heart is.

God's Blessed Assurance

I'm reminded of this man who scooted up a tree last month to get coconuts for us.   We were at the top of the mountain, exhausted and thirsty.  He even carved out little spoons with his machete, so we could dig out the meat of the fruit.  It was the perfect pick-me-up, drinking that sweet milk and refreshing our bodies.  'Natural Gatorade' they say.  It was a perfect example to me...

God doesn't call the equipped, he equips the called.

This morning on my way into the city, I began to worship as I was pulling out.  My window rolled down I heard the birds singing so sweetly and even remarked to Lord that I may as well shut up, because they are doing a much better job of it. 

Today was a vital reassurance from the Lord. Sometimes when we've been in the mire of battle, we come out of the skirmishes a little heavier than when we went in.  If we could but see the spiritual, we might be surprised to look down and see the many gashes, the wounds, the arrows cleaved and buried, a hairs-breadth from the major arteries.

Today, many men layed their hands on me and prayed over my family, and I could feel the Lord. He renewed me, refreshed me, he set me back upon my feet and gave me His charge to carry on.

On the way home, this song came flooding to my mind, filling my lungs and in turn the air, and my soul gave thanks to it's Maker. I thought of Haiti and the splendor of my King.  I remembered looking down from the mountain in Haiti, toward the sea. Feeling a tie to this foreign place.  Being thankful for the breeze, for the little cloud He placed in between me and the hot sun.  I remembered walking through the forests, the sharp leaves of the palms and the cactus slicing into me at every misguided turn.  No paths, no roads or guidance, just the feeling of how small I felt in such a place, how even though Haiti was small, how very small was I, and yet how Grand, How Great, How Beautiful, my God!  I knew He could see me. Because God is on the throne. Not that He was, or that He would be, but that He IS.  The Great I AM.

His Hands....Oh His Hands!  My only desire is to be found in them.  To be wrapped in them, to be under them, to be lifted by them, protected by them, guided by them, molded, caught by them, pointed, driven, and charged by them!

The prayers of these warriors, these faithful men, committed to the same King, minister to me, and the arrows are plucked and have fallen to the ground as refuse, where they belong. Their hands cover my wounds and the Living Word sears over the gashes.

In these moments I look down and imagine my sword.  My enemy sees it too, blindingly squinting as it glimmers in the reflection of the Light of my Commander. It will swing out upon the breadth, and the name of the Lord will be glorified.

How Great Thou Art

Lyrics ~ Carl Boberg, 1859 - 1940

English Translation ~ Stuart K. Hine, 1899 -

O Lord my God,

When I in awesome wonder

Consider all

The works Thy Hand hath made,

I see the stars,

I hear the mighty thunder,

Thy pow'r throughout

The universe displayed;

When through the woods

And forest glades I wander

I hear the birds

Sing sweetly in the trees;

When I look down

From lofty mountain grandeur

And hear the brook

And feel the gentle breeze;

Then sings my soul,

My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul,

My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

And when I think

that God, his son not sparing

sent him to die,

I scarce can take it in.

That on the cross,

my burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died

to take away my sin.

When Christ shall come,

With shouts of acclamation,

And take me home,

What joy shall fill my heart!

Then I shall bow

In humble adoration

And there proclaim,

"My God, how great Thou art!"

Then sings my soul,

My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul,

My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

On The Market

We've been praying about this for awhile, and we think it's time.  Tomorrow morning our studio and home will be going on the market.  

$362,500.

Our photography business has really evolved over the years.  Most of our work is now on-location, with weddings or missions, the kids are older and don't need babysitters, and ever since Haiti, we've just felt like God is moving us.

This place has been a tremendous blessing to our family, and we're thankful that God gave us such a wonderfully unique and beautiful space.  

We've never felt like it was ours.  Since day one we knew that it would be temporary. It's our hope that somehow this building can be used for continued ministry in the community.

The Market

The Farmer

Reflections

I kept noticing her, staring.  

Then she'd open her mouth like she was going to eat my backpack.  

She'd smile big as she could, then in a flash she'd be sticking out her tongue.  

Her eyes were wide as saucers.

"What is she doing??!"  I said.  

Then I realized, she was looking at her 'funny faces' 

in the reflection of my sunglasses, 

hooked onto my pack. 

 Maybe she'd never seen a mirror?  I don't know.  

She was, to say the least, intrigued.

Let Go. Let God

I remember this girl in the village, so simple and content with her cup.  Some days, we need to just let go of the world and do exactly what we see in this image.  We just need to be still, to hold out our cup and wait for the Lord.  The blessings will come and the cup will overflow. Amen?

Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.

1 Peter 3:8-9

Provision

We are thankful, there is a company that will pay me for my skills in photography and design, which will in turn finance my family to live in Haiti. We're trying to figure out what the next move is with our studio, if we should put it on the market.

We can't leave with a mortgage. A close friend said if we could cover the cost of the mortgage, we could borrow it out to local ministries while we're gone.

Gertrude's Blessing

She's 'Mom' to the kids in the orphanage these days, but in many ways I find Gertrude to be so much more.

She is a prayer warrior, an encourager, a spirit-lifter, a role-model, and a follower of Christ.

When she found out I loved her cooking, she took it upon herself to take a normal meal and turn it into a masterpiece.

She used the skills and the means that God had placed before her, and she found her own unique, creative way to bless and encourage the people around her.  I think her cooking could grace the cover of any Haitian cuisine magazine.

She was too shy to let me take her picture and would always turn away, and although the shot below isn't crisp and tack sharp, it's one of my favorites of Gertrude.  In the waning light of the late afternoon, I found her in her home, chopping away to make yet another special meal for us, and all with a smile on her face.  

On the night we left she made my family a special dish to take with us on our journey.  It was a french-braided hot-pocket of sorts, a work of art in my opinion.  The next day in the airport when I realized I'd accidentally checked our traveling money inside our luggage, it was Gertrude's supply that fed my family and nourished us for breakfast and lunch. It was bursting with flavor.

The granola bars that were in our backpack became our supper, and by the look on my daughter's face, they was no match compared to Gertrude's hand-crafted creation.  She made them out of love, and we will never forget Gertrude's Blessing.

Francia Singing On Top of the Orphanage

We all went up on top of the orphanage, to try and find the quietest spot in the compound.  There's still alot of background noise from down below, and even from up above. As you can hear in the beginning, I had to reprimand a bird.

This is Francia, singing the song I didn't get to hear her sing in church. Maybe you'll recognize it?

Here I Am to Worship

Lucy (and Francia) Singing

The Sunday morning Patchouko and I set out to climb the mountain I knew I would miss church.  It didn't bother me much, because it's all in Creole and I'm lost after about 5 minutes like some school boy staring at the rafters with ants in his pants.  But, when I got back I found out I'd missed Francia singing during the service.  I told her I was sorry to miss it, so she said she'd sing it again for me.  

Little Lucy found out I was going to tape it, so she, being the little rascal she is, could only stand to be quiet for 1 song, and then she just couldn't handle it any longer, so she stole the spotlight.

John Bouloute

The first time I met John was up on the mountain last year.  He was living near where my sponsor girl lives. Right away, this kid knew when the camera was on him, and every time I looked at John, he was already looking at me.

Last year we knew his situation was rough, and when he came down the mountain with us to the orphanage, I had no idea that he would soon be living there.   Lynn, who was there on her first trip at the time, found a shirt that was a perfect fit for him, and he was bubbling.

It wasn't until months later that I found out he was living in the orphanage, and when I got back in February, he instantly recognized me.  He picked up with me like I hadn't even left, and gained an incredible amount of respect for me as soon as he saw me popping wheelies on the orphanage bicycle.

He had a bit of a crush on my daughter, which I found I am not at all ready for, and while I would tolerate the daily flowers he would pick for my 'sweet pea',  the day I saw him look at her and raise his eyebrows up and down, it was time for an entirely new talk, father-to-misguided-young-man.

After a few days we were back to being buds, and when he saw me carrying the girls' backpacks for them as we were coming home from school, he tried to show me his solidarity by carrying a few of the other kids' packs as well.  It was hard for him, but he resolved that he was going to prove something to me, and that was the end of it.  His eyesbrows wrinkled and his jaw set, John walked all the way home loaded down with school books, always making sure to stay in front of me, leading the way.

John has always had this tough-guy defense, this display of perfect confidence and steely attitude, so it was hard for my family to be there the day his mother came for him.  She'd been in Port Au Prince, leaving John on the mountain in a very similar way my girl Oberline has been left, but now she was back and she wanted her son.  The rest of her children, she says, were lost in the quake.


With mixed emotions John and Gertrude, the house mom, packed the bags, and we all came out to see him off.  At first there was the tough-guy John, ready to tackle his great new adventure, but when I came to him and hugged him, all that came to mind were three words.
I said, "John, don't forget: Jesi renmen ou." (Jesus loves you.)
I kissed him on the side of his face, and hot tears began to stream down his cheeks.
That impervious smile was gone, and his eyes spoke volumes.

His mother is excited to have him back, and as he left we prayed for him.  I hope someday to see him again, to see this boy who is already looking at me, with a great big smile on his face, and eyes full of courage.

Bread

I'm fairly positive it was my dad who defined true obedience to me.   I can still hear the words of the ex-Marine, and I can still remember the healthy attention that he commanded by his presence alone, when, in a  moment of attitude or disrespect towards him or our mom,  he would speak this most simple phrase:

"When I say 'Jump!', boy, you say 'How High?!"

You knew by the look in his eye and the curl in his lip that you'd better grasp that final warning and turn your heart, or else.

While I don't have the experience or the pleasure of being taught under the United States Marines, to this day I have a healthy respect for any man or woman who served.  With my own kids, when it comes to obedience, there's not much lost in translation.   The same idea holds true.

Obedience is simply doing what you're told the first time, without asking why.  
How many times as kids did we ask the universal 'Why?' only to get the universal 'Because I said so.'
The number of times I've found myself in my father's shoes...it's almost comical the way God puts us on the other side of the fence.

In reality, the truth stares us down when it comes to obedience.  It boils down to a matter of the heart, to your attitude.

To hear God's call for our lives we need to have that same level of obedience, and availability.  Before we can be available we have to grasp that kind of obedience without condition.  If we first give pause, to question, to judge, or to try and reason for understanding with the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth, then we become sticks in the mud,  immovable and unavailable.

Just like the Israelites in Exodus 7, God calls us into the Wilderness so that we might worship Him. 
Would they have gone out with any bounce in their step if they'd known they'd wander for years, for generations?  Had God explained the Manna or the water coming from the rock, the pillar of fire, or the parting of the Red Sea....would they have understood?

When we listen to Him, when we obey without condition, and when we are completely abandoned and given over to His purpose,  it won't matter what Wilderness we find ourselves in, what circumstance or predicament has befallen us, because He will be with us.  

When we find, like Paul in closing his letter to the Philippians, that we can be content regardless of the circumstances, whether well fed or hungry, we realize that we've come under the watchful eye of our King. And when He is truly our Lord, our Shepherd, we shall not be in want.

A couple of days ago God did some serious rearranging of schedules, and we found ourselves surprised with 18 people for supper. All of us in beginning our day had other plans.  But God had His plan.  He brought us all together, as just another weave in His Masterpiece, and it was time to eat.

In our freezer were 5 pizzas from our friends who volunteer at a church in town, giving away food.
In the back seat of another friends car was a big sack of bread, given to him by a local bread maker, who'd made too much and yet had the forethought to use the extra as a blessing to someone else.

There were chips, there was soda, and there was even ice cream!  In plenty!
We were provided for,  and so abundantly that there was bread left over enough to take around to family and friends.  When there was still more bread in the sack, we walked over to a neighbor around the corner, out raking her yard, and told her of the provision. She picked out her loaf with a grateful heart. Her neighbors were out in their driveway, and so we gave her an extra loaf to give to them, and watched as she walked over to them, holding in her hands yet another unexpected gift.

My wife thinks maybe there's a book in my future, and tends to remind me that these are just blogs.  "Keep it short and sweet" she says,  "there's more impact that way."

I think maybe that's how God sees it with us.  If He told us the whole story of our lives, word for word, He'd certainly lose us somewhere along the way...  We need to be content when He calls and doesn't explain Himself... because it's for our own sake, because He loves us.

He's just keeping it short and sweet.

Lighthouse Lucy

When the girl I sponsor came down the mountain and decided she wanted to follow Jesus, she mentioned that she didn't own a bible.
It was Lucy, this little burst of sunshine, that ran fast as she could to her room to grab her own bible.  She scribbled out her own name and wrote my girl's name, Oberline.
So, now I call her Lighthouse Lucy, because in the darkness, she's a beacon of light.

Ministry Map

It's wasn't a random thought about where to begin in Haiti.  This month it's been 1 year in the making.

These roads and hiking trails were GPS'ed and marked for a purpose, and this will be the starting point for the ministry of Bibles for Haiti.

Shine Like Stars, Philippians 2, and Patchouko

Someone recently asked me,
"You say you want to give out bibles, but what else are you planning to do? What do you see yourself doing in Haiti, I mean, besides just handing out bibles? You say you're just a laborer in the field, but you're so much more..."

My answer to that is simple, and maybe one that needs to be more publicly understood.

I feel God is asking me to bring bibles to the people of Haiti.  I feel like He's opening the doors for that mission.
Now, if I strap a dozen bibles onto my pack and start walking up into the mountains of Haiti, and I go with the wrong attitude, by the time I've gone a mile, those bibles will feel like a mill-stone around my neck, like a giant sandbag pulling me down to the earth.  Each step will become a burden and my heart sinks deeper and deeper into the chore.  By the time I hand that bible to a Haitian, will I have any love?  Will there be any joy or any light?  Or will I be tired, exhausted, frustrated and hurried, wanting to just finish my 'job'.   Right now, as a photographer, I load a very heavy backpack and walk up and down 30 miles of mountains in Haiti to photograph 1500 kids, so they can be sponsored back in the States.  More than once someone has lifted my pack and groaned, wide-eyed at the weight of it, followed by the curious question of 'how in the world?'
All I know is that if I'm grumpy about that pack or the miles I had to walk to find that child, will that little boy or girl feel any love from me as I bark out orders for them to smile?  More importantly, what will the people back home see, the child, or the fear masking the child?

If I take that same task of carrying those bibles and choose instead to view it as my mission, my privilege, then those bibles don't bring me down.  In contrast to the wrong attitude, those bibles don't weigh anything.
I get to carry the Living Word, God's Love Letter to a hungry soul!
When I hear someone ask me what else I see myself doing besides handing out bibles, the first thought that crosses my mind is, "Can there be any higher calling, anything more worthwhile or of greater eternal value?  Can there be any greater privilege?"

You see, this way, when I hand a bible to a hungry soul, there will be love.  There will certainly be light, and there will be joy, because of the respect and the reverence that I hold for the book that I'm giving.
Because I know it to be so much more than just a book.  It's not a brick, not just some mass, some weight, in my pack.   It's the Word of Life. Within the pages of this book I find a scripture that tells me that I get the opportunity to shine like the stars in the universe as I hold out the word of life.

('Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life–in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing. But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you.  So you too should be glad and rejoice with me.' Phil. 2:14-16)

Do you understand that it's not just the physical act of holding out that bible that Paul is speaking of, but the attitude in which I do it?  Without complaining or arguing.  That even if I die, being poured out like a drink offering, that I should be glad and rejoice for the opportunity that I was given to be the ambassador of Christ.... that you too should be glad and rejoice with me?   Do you understand that it's an investment in eternity, and not a debit to our short mist of life on this Earth, to give our everything to bring the Good News?

To share this vision, you will first have to be like-minded. We have to be one in spirit and in purpose.

Would you consider Jesus Christ to be one of the greatest teachers to have ever walked this Earth?  Can you deny His skill, if after 2000 years we are still talking about the words that came from His mouth?
Would you consider Jesus to be a great leader?   Millions have followed Him to receive salvation.  Can you deny his ability to lead when you read the accounts of the men who abandoned everything to follow Him, and then tell His story, even at the expense of their own lives?

I've been told I should write a book.  I've been told I have the gift of teaching, and also that I am a leader.  But if I'm going to be useful to Christ in any of those gifts, I need to look at my Mentor for my example.
My attitude needs to be like His.

Jesus humbled Himself and became nothing.  He took the very nature of a servant!
The greatest teacher, the greatest leader, and He did what?  Read Philippians 2.

My mission is not to secure or entertain a lofty, more exciting role in God's plan.  I'm not laboring for the ambitions of writing a better script,  hoping someday for the real-life Broadway show starring me.
I'm content in the awesome responsibility of carrying His word.  I have found a need and I am meeting it.  I see a thirsty soul, and I have a cup of cold water.
My reward will be the souls I find in Heaven, who are there because they read what was between those pages.
It will be, to me, the best story ever told. While they may never know my name, by the incomprehensible  power of Jesus, we will share the same name.

Here is my brother, Patchouko.  When he sees me show up at the orphanage, he knows that he and I are are in for alot, and I mean alot, of walking.  He knows that we're going up, and down, and up, and down those mountains.  He knows that he'll be asking, more than a thousand times,  'What is your name?' and "What grade?" to a child in front of him.  He knows hundreds of them won't be on our list, and we'll be writing them on a dry-erase board as new sponsors.  He knows many of them we'll never find.

He knows that there is a great deal of work in front of us and that we'll be leaving early in the morning, probably skipping lunch, and coming back late in the day.  Even then, he knows we won't be finished, because we'll shoot until there is no more light left to shoot.  He knows he will be leaving his wife and his little boy, and that he'll be translating tens of thousands of words for me.
Do you know what he says when we start down the first step of the first trail together?
"I'm excited to accomplish our mission together."
Do you know what he says when he sees me beginning to break down in the middle of the third week, when I don't know if my knees will take another step, but I want to make a surprise trip to the top of the mountain to find the girl I sponsor, to see how her living conditions truly are as a slave?
He says, "I will come with you."
"Patchouko, you don't have to.  This isn't for sponsor pictures or for Mission Haiti.  I'm going to find the truth about how she's living." I say.
"I will go." He smiles.
"Why would you do that?" I say.
"To encourage you." He says.

Here is my brother Patchouko.  We share the same name.