Our 32 Year Journey to Honduras

Through the years, I have had many people ask me "What are you doing in Honduras?", "How did you know that God wanted you to be a missionary?", "How did you choose which country to go to?",  etc.  These questions are not so easy to answer.  It is kind of like trying to answer questions like: "How do you know when you are in love?",  "How do you know there is a God?",  or  "How do they know how fast the speed of light is? Who could go fast enough to measure it?"  And when it comes to knowing what God wants from us, He may speak to people differently. (Adam - face to face, Moses - a burning bush, Mary - an angel, etc.)  All I can do is share with you how God spoke to my heart and the circumstances that brought us to the country of Honduras.  From the time that I felt God's call at age 13, till the time we arrived in Honduras to live, has been a journey that has taken 32 years:

Both of our parents were active members of the Calvary Baptist Church of Grand Prairie, TX, at the time of our births.  For that reason, the two of us became regular church attenders at a very early age! How blessed we have been because we were raised in Christian homes and we both grew up under the ministry of Dr. Earl K. and Louise Oldham.  We spent our formative years sitting under a long line of Biblical Sunday School teachers and, as teenagers, our examples and teachers were loving, fun, and uncompromising youth leaders.  Many of those godly men and women who have had such a deep and abiding influence in our lives are now in the presence of the Savior Himself.  However, those saints who have not yet left this earth to receive their Heavenly reward continue to teach and affect our lives as they maintain their testimony and faithfulness to the cause of Christ and His church!  We do not take such a blessed and godly heritage lightly.

In 1970, immediately after high school graduation, both Mike and I began attending the Bible Baptist Seminary. Shortly thereafter, we began carpooling to college with one another to save on gas (wish we could find some of that $.25 gas now!).  It was during those first few months of Bible College that we began dating and two years later, in June of 1972, we were married. 

After completing four years of Bible College, we were ready to head to the mission field! However, Dr. Oldham, our pastor and the president of our college, wisely counseled us to, first, go and work in another church for a year and gain some practical experience.  (I think this was his way of really saying, “You two need to grow up first!”.)

Therefore, taking his astute advice, we packed our belongings and our 6-month-old daughter, Kristy, and moved to Deer Park, TX, and the Central Baptist Church where Bro. Charles Dunn and his sweet wife, Shirley, took two “green kids” under their wings and helped to “grow us up”!

Instead of one year, we ended up staying for five.  (I guess we were slow “grower-uppers”.)  While there, Mike worked as the music director and general “flunky”, and we both worked in the capacity of youth directors.  It was a wonderful and blessed five years… years in which we gained much practical experience in the ministry, gained much spiritual insight, gained many precious, lifelong friends, and gained an addition to our family…  our son, Brandon.  To this day, we continue to glean from the godly mentoring of Bro. and Mrs. Dunn and, even now, we maintain contact with many of our “kids” from our youth department.  During our time there, the Lord graciously blessed our bumbling and feeble efforts to lead those young lives to love and serve our wonderful Savior.  Some of those struggling teenagers of yesteryear are now serving the Lord as preachers, missionaries, teachers and grandparents! How very proud and thankful we are for the godly decisions many of them made.  Even today, some nearly forty years later, we think about and pray for those of our “kids” who have strayed from the Truth and have turned their back on the Father.  No matter how old we get, or how old they get, we will always love and pray for them and they will always be our “kids”!

In 1979, we went back to our home church for one year so Mike could take some additional Bible classes at the college.  It was difficult to leave Central Baptist, but when God says, “Go!” you obey!  During our time back at Calvary, he worked on staff for Dr. Oldham as the Visitation Minister.  And after the year was up, Dr. Oldham invited Mike to stay on as a staff member, assuring him that there were further opportunities for him there.  However, Mike believed God had different plans for us, so, in the summer of 1980, after he had completed his classes, we prepared to leave. 

Because the call and the burden for missions was still very strong within our hearts, we thought that maybe God would allow us to go the foreign field at that time!  However, God’s will and timing is not always in harmony with our own, and Mike began to feel strongly that God wanted him to pastor a church. The “missionary” in us drew us away from the Bible belt, and we began to look at areas in the United States in which Bible believing churches were scarce.

Dr. Oldham, knowing that we were searching for the place of God’s will, recommended Mike to the pulpit committee of a little church in Tacoma, WA.  All I knew about Washington at that time was (1) it was on the opposite side of the United States from Texas, (2) it was bordered on two sides by the Pacific Ocean and Canada and (3) Mt. St. Helen’s had erupted a few months earlier!!  I had some serious doubts about Tacoma being where God wanted us, even though further investigation revealed that about 97% of the people in Washington did not attend ANY kind of church at all!  Sure, there was a spiritual need, but we had two small children!  God would not call us to take them to a dangerous place so far away from home and family, would He? Of course, He wouldn’t!

Well… silly me! I should have known better than to question the Lord and His will, because after many long distance phone calls and discussions with the men of the church, they asked us to come one weekend for Mike to preach in view of a call. 

When we arrived, it was cold, cloudy and raining.   At the airport, the entire pulpit committee was waiting to meet us (which, for me, was a bit daunting). I’m not sure what I was expecting when we pulled into the church parking lot, but it was certainly not what met my eyes.  The building had been built many, many years earlier (it qualified for the historical society… really)!  The drizzling rain and dreary sky seemed to accentuate the fact that the building was a bit run down and in desperate need of a new coat of paint. In spite of that fact, it was still a charming little building with a tall steeple and a bell… like something you would see on a Christmas card.   

Next to the church was the parsonage, a tiny house made about the same time as the church building except it seemed to be in much worse condition than the church.  The parsonage consisted of two very small bedrooms downstairs, a somewhat spooky room in the attic and two, very, very tiny closets… for the whole house!

In addition, the church was also very much in debt, and seven months without a pastor had left them with only a hand full of people. In fact, I noted that, on a “low” Sunday in our youth department in Deer Park, we had more than twice as many teens as this little church’s entire Sunday morning “crowd”! 

The next morning, Mike preached a wonderful message from Nehemiah to the small group of friendly people. Mike and I, as well as the message, were warmly received.  After lunch, we spent the remainder of the time before the evening service just visiting with the people and getting to know one another.  It was a day full of precious memories.

The next day, however, the ride back to the airport was no different from the trip we had taken on Saturday… cold, cloudy, foggy and dreary.  Nevertheless, for Mike and me, it had been “love at first sermon”, and we had no doubt that this was exactly where God wanted us! Two weeks later, this was confirmed when the pulpit committee called and said the vote had been 100%!  They wanted us to come!  They wanted Mike to be their pastor!  Therefore, once again, we packed up our daughter, now five years old, our three-year-old son, all our belongings and made the more than 1,600 mile journey to Tacoma, Washington.

The next fourteen years at Faith Baptist Church in Tacoma, Washington, were some of the most difficult, most fulfilling and some of the happiest years of our lives!  It was a struggle and very difficult at first.  However, after a time, God really began to bless!  We began to see visitors in the service regularly.  The youth department and bus ministry began to increase in size also. There were people being saved and baptized on a regular basis and, as the church continued to grow, the number of missionaries that our church supported began to grow as well and we were also able to increase their monthly financial assistance.  After three years of homeschooling our own children, we felt the need to open a Christian school, Faith Baptist Christian Academy, the school from which both our children graduated and that two of our grandchildren now attend.  In addition, God enabled us to pay off all the church’s debts and buy more land for the future. 

By the end of our thirteenth year there, attendance had grown to the point that it was necessary to have two Sunday morning services.  We had remained debt free and, by that time, had several thousand dollars in the building fund and land on which to build. Blueprints were drawn and we even had a groundbreaking ceremony for beginning the construction of a new auditorium!  God was good, life was good, we loved our dear people and they loved us!  This was the mission field to which God had called us!!!  And we didn’t even have to learn another language!!! (Although it is true that, in the beginning, people in Washington had a bit of a problem understanding my Texan at times!)

The year was 1993.  Our daughter, Kristy, had graduated from our Christian school the year before.  She and another of our graduates, now missionary Jason Tate, had an opportunity to work for a year in bilingual Christian schools in Honduras.  Mike and I felt the need to check out the Honduran families with whom they would be living and the schools where they would be working. The trip would also give us a chance to visit some of the missionaries that we had supported for years.

Therefore, it was in the spring of that year, that Mike, Kristy, Jason and I boarded a plane for Honduras.  During the trip there, Mike and I talked happily about how God had blessed: 1. First, our own dependable and Godly people were filling in for us during this mission trip. 2. Two of our church’s young people were willing to leave their homes and families to serve the Lord in a foreign land.  3. We had an award winning Christian school with a growing enrollment.  4.  We were seeing souls saved and added to the church almost weekly.  5.  In addition, upon our return we were to begin construction on the new church building.  God was so good and had so blessed us!

However, during that ten-day trip and while we were still in Honduras, Mike told me that he felt that God was calling us to Honduras.  I, too, had been deeply touched and burdened by what we had seen, however, I was not convinced that God truly wanted us to leave the church we had struggled so hard and long to build!  EVERYTHING we had worked and prayed for was finally happening! Surely, He did not want us to leave everything now!  After all, we were over forty years old, we had a daughter who would be starting college when she returned to the States the following year, and we had a new church building to build. In addition, the thought of leaving our church family was nearly more than I could deal with!

I figured that Mike was just “carried away” with everything!  We would go home, get back into ministry of the church, begin construction on the new building and start the new school year. Once we were home and back into the routine of things, he would realize that God did not really want us to leave Faith.  I did believe that, because of that trip, we would definitely have a greater, deeper burden for missions!  However, I was not necessarily convinced that it meant we had to leave our church! Nevertheless, I too wanted to be in the center of God’s will, so I told Mike I would be in prayer about it.

And so it was, that after ten unbelievable days in Honduras, we said our goodbyes to Jason and our 19 year old daughter, boarded an airplane and headed back home and to our church in Washington.  I left Honduras with mixed emotions and a heart in turmoil and, although much of those feelings had to do with leaving Kristy and Jason in a foreign country, they were not the only cause for my unrest.  I had much to think and pray about.

When we walked into our home in Tacoma, we had quite a surprise waiting for us.  Our precious people had come into our home while we were gone and completely remodeled our kitchen; new floor, new cabinet tops, freshly painted cupboards and appliances, new paint and wallpaper border, ceiling fan, a new refrigerator and even a teakettle that matched it all! THAT’S the kind of loving, generous people we had! How could we ever leave the precious family that God has given us to shepherd?

We immediately got back into the work and began planning for the new school year.  Meanwhile, both Mike and I were praying for God’s direction and the revelation of His perfect will for our lives. Thoughts of Honduras continually inserted themselves into everything I did… and not just because my little girl was there.  Every time someone asked me about our trip, every time I looked at the pictures, all I could do was cry.  Every time I walked into my beautiful kitchen, in my mind’s eye, all I could see was another kitchen that I had seen 3,000 miles away.

As we traveled down the twisting mountain road, the missionaries told us that we were going to have services in a community named Maracia.  When we stopped on the side of the road, it looked as if we were out in the middle of nowhere. I saw a small adobe house at the top of a small rise.  We got out of the car and followed a path up the hill to the house.  “How can we have a service here?” I thought. “There is just one house! Where are the people?” We followed the missionaries around to the back of the house where there were a couple of benches that had been set up outside.  Then, I noticed that there were people coming down out of the surrounding mountains, and some were bringing more benches and stools with them.

In no time at all, people were seated and ready for services. The preaching was punctuated by a crowing rooster, a mother hen with her chicks wandering around behind the preacher, and a snorting pig that was tied to a nearby tree.  At that time, Mike and I did not speak Spanish and could not understand a single word. However, the look of love and adoration on the faces of the believers as they sang hymns to our Lord was unmistakable.

After the services, the missionary’s wife told me that the lady of the house wanted to show me something. I followed them into a tiny lean-to that was built onto the side of their little adobe house. It was made out of sticks and, from between the sticks, I could see through to the outside.  The floor was dirt, and in the corner was a mud stove with a fire burning in it.  On the wall, there hung a crude, wooden shelf, about two feet long, which held a few dented, blackened pots. With the missionary’s wife translating, this humble Honduran woman, began to share her testimony. She told me that, for many years, her husband had been a mean drunk and had not cared for nor provided for his family.  Then one day, he had heard about the love of God and accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior. Since his salvation, she said, he had become a different person. He had stopped drinking and began to work his fields to provide for his family. He now cared for and loved them. She had just wanted to show me the new kitchen he had built for her, one that would never have been built had it not been for Christ and the salvation of her husband.  She, with such pride and tears in her eyes, had showed me her “beautiful, new” kitchen as a tribute to the Lord, His goodness and mercy, and the change that only He could have made in her husband’s life and in their family.

That humble little woman in Honduras was just as proud of her new kitchen as I was of mine.  However, those few minutes in that tiny kitchen made of sticks and mud seemed to rob me of the joy that I should have felt for my own!  I had so much!  I was so blessed!  

It seemed to me that, for most of us in the United States, the more we have, the more we want; we never seem to have enough.  In Honduras, those precious people have nothing!  However, when they receive Jesus as their Savior, they suddenly understand that if they have Him, they have everything!!!  HE IS ALL THEY NEED!

In that moment, I realized that, although I could not change their poverty, I could tell them of Jesus Christ and His love gift of salvation!  He could change their lives.  He could give them so much more than any material thing I could give! 

Suddenly, I knew I had an answer to my prayers and, although it did not make sense and seemed illogical, I knew in my heart that no matter how difficult it might be to leave, we could not stay!  If the God of the Universe wanted us to go share His Word, to give hope and life to the people of Honduras, then how could we ever be so selfish as to stay??? 

The night that Mike announced to our dear church that we felt God’s call to minister in Honduras, there were many, many tears shed. The tears came not only from our precious people, but from Mike and me as well.  However, after the service, we learned that God had been preparing their hearts as well!  Many came to us and, through their tears, told us that they were not that surprised by Mike’s announcement. They had seen how deeply the trip had affected us and, to a certain degree, had anticipated that God was moving our hearts in a different direction and to different type of ministry.  Therefore, we all began to prepare ourselves for the major transition that was to come.

Mike and I decided that the prudent thing to do would be to stay through the school year and train someone to take over the administration, ordering, and other responsibilities of the Christian school.  We also felt that it would be in the best interest of the church to forego the building of the new auditorium until the church had called a new pastor.  We loved our sweet people too much to leave them unprepared for running a school, with an unfinished building and without a suitable man to continue the work that God had begun in that place.  So, even though we all knew that we would be leaving at the end of the school year, we continued as always, except that, as a church, we were actively seeking the man that God had chosen to shepherd these people after our departure. 

I was thrilled about our delay in leaving, but I have to tell you, it was very difficult at times to keep from bursting out in tears!  During those months, I questioned the Lord many times!  Were we doing the right thing? Was this truly His will? How could I survive leaving these people? We had shared SO MUCH during those 14 years:  so many joys and blessings, so many heartaches and tears, new babies… as well as the passing of many dear saints.  Our children had grown up together and we had all learned together and grown together, both numerically and spiritually. To think of leaving this place, these people, literally made my heart hurt and my chest ache!  But, every time I thought that I just could not do what God was asking He, very gently and firmly, reassured my heart that Honduras was His perfect will for our lives and that He would be with us, guiding us, helping us, using us, and loving us every step of the way.

Therefore, it was in May of 1994, with the installation of their new pastor, we left Tacoma, Washington, and Faith Baptist Church.  God has blessed the work there, and their new pastor has taken our beloved church to the next level.  They have continued to grow and today they have, not one new building, but TWO; a beautiful new auditorium and an education building that houses the school that we started so many years ago. They also have an ever-expanding mission program that serves to reach thousands around the world.  In addition, our son, after years of being gone, went back to the church in which he grew up, and has been on staff there for the last 11 years.

Three years after we said those tearful goodbyes, we arrived in Honduras to begin a new phase of our ministry. We had enjoyed our year and a half of deputation and meeting other pastors and churches.  We had survived a year of learning the Spanish language in Costa Rica.  Through it all, God was so good, kind, and gracious to us.  He continually reassured us that we were in the center of His will and comforted us with His presence. 

In 1993, we had made a ten-day visit to Honduras, but during that visit, I had no doubt that I would be returning to the United States, my home, and my friends and family.  Throughout our entire time there, I did not look at Honduras as a place where I might one day live and work!  Now, it was July of 1997, four years later and, as we boarded the plane for Honduras, I wondered how I would feel about my “new place of residence” when I arrived.  What would I do if, when I saw Honduras for the second time, I realized that it was too much of an adjustment for me, too difficult a life-style change?  What if we got there and I hated it? This thought haunted and terrified me and… I felt ashamed and worried that I might not only let the Lord down, but also all the people and churches that had made it possible for us to be there!  They were counting on us!  It was for this reason that I kept my thoughts to myself!

As our plane prepared to land in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, I nervously raised the window shade and looked down on the land below.  I saw brown, dirt roads snaking around and through the lush green mountains that were covered with dense foliage.  As we got lower and things became more distinguishable, I could make out tiny, mud-colored adobe houses scattered along side small, square patches of fields and along the snake trails.  Then we began to circle over Tegucigalpa for landing.  I looked at that large, sprawling city, through the small  window of my airplane, and once again I was amazed that, on the steep sides of the mountains that surrounded the nation’s capital, they could cram so many thousands of houses beside and, seemingly, on top of each other!  Closer to the airport, I could clearly see the dirty, brown river, the shabby city buildings and the narrow streets crowded with cars and people.

It was then, at that moment, that the feeling hit me… and the next thing I knew, I was crying!  I tried not to cry, but this “gut reaction” to seeing Honduras again, was so strong!  I had tried so hard to prepare myself for this moment, but the intensity of this sudden emotion so surprised and overwhelmed me that I could not keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. 

It had been in May of 1993 that we packed up or sold all our belongings and left Tacoma, our church family and our home.  After that, we spent the next three years eating and sleeping in other people’s homes or in hotels and restaurants. (There were even a few occasions when we slept in our car!)  For three years, we lived out of our suitcases. Our lives had become a routine of unloading, unpacking, repacking and reloading!  For three long years, we had been “displaced people” with no place to call “home”!

Now, after three years of living a life that most of you could never even imagine, we were finally arriving in Honduras!  It had finally come down to THIS… this moment, this time, this place and… this unexpected and shocking feeling!  As I looked out the window of that airplane, three words immediately came to my heart and mind. These three words hit me with such an unanticipated and startling force that, although I did not do it, I could have shouted them out!  “HOME! I’M HOME! FINALLY HOME!”

That brings us to present day, June of 2011.  It has been fourteen years since that second airplane ride to Honduras!  It has been fourteen of the most difficult, most challenging, most fulfilling and most wonderful years of my life!  Just as I could not imagine ever leaving our precious church in Tacoma, I now cannot imagine ever leaving our dear people in the mountains of Honduras! Of course, I love, miss and worry about our parents who are getting older and have challenging health needs. In addition, I believe that no one (and I do mean NO one!) could love and miss their children and grandchildren more than I.  However, Honduras is where God has called us… called ME… and it is in my blood and in my heart!  And, through the years, each time I fly back to Honduras after visiting in the States, when the plane begins to descend for landing, excitement begins to tie my stomach in knots, I begin to feel the sting of tears at the back of my eyes, and my heart begins to shout those same words:  “HOME! I’M HOME! FINALLY HOME!”