Your Maker Is Your Husband

Hello All,

Today, I wanted to take a rare opportunity to be personal in a way that I usually avoid. In the past couple of weeks, a local church has been having 21 nights of worship, and my son and I have attended a few times. Each time that I attend, it’s resulted in receiving a vitally necessary message that keeps me going or that gives me a new sense of vision. The last time that I went, God cornered me right in my greatest spot of weakness. But, before I get to that, let me give you a review of the past week.


El Buen Pastor
My son and I headed to an orphanage around an hour outside of where I live called El Buen Pastor. I had been planning to go there since around November of last year when one of my sons, Elvis, left to live. But, I had no idea where it was, and it took the people at 21 months and months to get me a phone number. Another one of my sons, Jorge Torres, left in January to return to El Buen Pastor (as he has grown up there his whole life except for the months he spent in 21 due to bad behavior). Words cannot express my happiness at seeing my sons after so much time apart. They both came running to meet me, so excited, because neither of them had ever had visitors and spend every visitors’ day reminded of their lack of family (or their distance). Jorge, 13, never knew his parents as they both died when he was young. He does have two older sisters, but I don’t get the impression that he sees them often. Jorge is brilliant, positively brilliant, and has a very good heart. Elvis melts my heart. He has the greatest smile and most genuine laugh and such a willingness to serve. Elvis, 14, is just now learning to read and write because he grew up being the sole caretaker of his parents. His father is handicapped and can’t walk, and his mother has mental problems. He has an older sister who also has mental problems, and the story as I understand it is that Child Services went to confiscate the older sister’s baby when they also found Elvis. Elvis was selling firewood in order to bring his family food—and who knows how long that had been his life.

I talked with the psychologist, the social worker, and the director of El Buen Pastor, who were so supportive in letting me come visit since normally they only allow blood relatives, and they all expressed a concern about Elvis’ wanting to leave. He is worried about his family, which I completely understand. The social worker told me that she hopes to visit his home which is even farther away from my house than El Buen Pastor and that they had seen pictures of Elvis’ home in a dangerous area that is basically a shack made of tarps, scrap plastic, and scraps of wood and metal. I really want to help my son and his family. I really want him to be able to take advantage of the opportunity to study without having this pressure of his family’s well-being constantly weighing on his young shoulders. Knowing that we often have teams from the US, Canada, and Denmark who have an interest in building homes (and perhaps that would include some of you who are reading) here, I talked with the social worker who is going to work on getting me some more information. If there would be any possible way to build a simple house for Elvis’ family and find a way to get them a sustainable income or regular help, I want to find it. I am a firm believer that love looks like something, and in this case, I believe it’s undeniable that it looks like a home and an income. So, I’m in prayer that God would open those doors to help as possible.

It brought me so much joy to spend time with Elvis and Jorge (along with Josuan, who, of course, came along because he is stuck to me like glue). The boys were so proud to have visitors, someone on the outside who cares about them. When their friends were staring at the only gringa mom and came over to ask about me, both of my sons were shy. We’ve been apart for a while, and I’m still on trial with them in terms of whether or not I’m worthy of trusting as a mom. So, when their friends asked them who I was, Elvis got a big smile as did Jorge who shyly didn’t know how to answer. Finally, he quietly said, “A friend?” I smiled, and Josuan quickly jumped in, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know that she’s your mom?” Josuan has had more time with me than any of his brothers; thus, it’s a lot easier for him to accept me as his mom. I laughed and explained, “As far as I’m concerned, they’re my sons.” Visitation days at El Buen Pastor are only once a month, but I plan to continue visiting every month.

The director and I talked about where the children go once they turn 18, and once again, I was presented with an obvious need. Elvis is counting down the years before he can leave to return to his family, but once Jorge is old enough to leave, where will he go? He doesn’t have parents, and I don’t get the idea that his older sisters are very stable. They still obviously have some time before they’ll leave, but my mother’s heart is already beating, “With me! With me! I want them to come home with me! They belong to me!” And then reality sets in, and I’m reminded that I don’t have a father for them or a house to take them to.



Josuan, Marvin, and I being silly at Teen Challenge

Take two--I had pictures of John and Jesús too, but they accidentally got erased.

Teen Challenge


The following day, I went to Teen Challenge with Hermano Nati, Oscar (one of Nati’s adopted sons who lives on the streets), Josuan, and Hermano Walter’s family. On the way to Teen Challenge, God surprised me by reminding me of something that got all of this started—a simple phrase that has turned my world upside down, “Don’t hold back.” You’ll soon understand why He told me that. It is always such a joy to see my sons. In fact, I think I forget when I’m away from them how much I love being with them. Sunday was such a big surprise as well. They have a very free worship service, and worship is where my heart convenes with God’s heart. And, as in any relationship, the interactions we have vary—sometimes, all I can do is cry while other times, I find that I can’t contain my joy with what my Daddy God is doing, so I have to dance. Going to Teen Challenge and seeing what God is doing in my sons fills me with such joy that even when I try to stifle myself, eventually, I just have to dance, especially as my son on crutches is jumping on one leg beside me. Much to my surprise, the pastor called me up front as an example to the rest of the family members of what worship can look like, and he gave me a rare opportunity to give a testimony. I barely kept back tears as I explained that I have never been a mother before, but when I was six-years-old, God told me that He had told my parents to name me Sarah because I’d be the mother of nations. I explained that while it seemed like coincidence, I ended up at 21 and met my destiny—my sons. And, when I see what God is doing in the lives of my sons, how can I do anything but be full of joy? Jesús and Marvin came to join me up front, and I encouraged the families to surrender it all to God—their worries, their fears, and their children. And, I told them that it’s really just as simple as stopping for the One—God, to listen and to obey—and stopping for the one person in front of them. And I beamed with great pride in saying that while I didn’t give birth to my sons, I do love them as my own. When I returned to my seat, Josuan was in tears, and when we talked later, he explained that something just touched his heart in hearing my words and made him cry tears of joy.

The pastor came up afterwards and told us that Josuan could come to stay the Sunday after his next orthopedic appointment which will be April 28. I only half-believe that, but we’ll pack his clothes and be ready anyway.

Jesús is doing well. He is such a character. Marvin informed me that Jesús has sold all of the clothes and shoes I sent for him in exchange for more food. I can’t even be mad about that. I just have to laugh. My child is such a trip. Sometimes, it’s a struggle to balance giving attention to all of them because Josuan has jealousy issues (he seems to think he should be an only child), Marvin is the class clown who likes being the center of attention, and John is usually very reserved and needs sought out which sometimes leaves Jesús as the child tugging on my shirt sleeve saying, “Mom, Mom, Mom! Look at this! Mom, look at me!” And then when I look, he has nothing to show me and just wants to bury his head in my shoulder. Ha ha. I love all of my boys so much. They are all so unique.

Marvin--Could my child be any more precious?

Marvin and I spent a lot of time together later that day, and I got an eye-opening conviction that I wasn’t prepared for. I love adoption, but I am very cautious to not take hold of the position of mom or as family if it’s not been given to me. When my child has family, I am cautious as to what depth I adopt my kids because I don’t want to make their families feel bad or create a sense of competing for the child’s love. That is not my heart. I see the whole purpose in my adoption as a way to break a cycle that exists so prevalently in this country. So many parents have grown up abandoned, as orphans, in extreme poverty, in abuse, in neglect, in indifference, or in various situations where they didn’t feel loved. How is a parent supposed to give a Love that he or she has never received? Thus, the cycle continues with their children. So, my heart and belief is that God is loaning me my sons so that He can love them back to life through me to send them back to their families to give the Love that their parents likely never received. That is how I believe that He is going to restore families. But, like I said, I’m cautious as to how deeply I adopt, so as not to take a position that isn’t mine. I didn’t get so deeply involved with Josuan until it was evident that his mom wanted nothing more to do with him. (But I believe God is going to restore that family in His time.) I, honestly, have been relatively hands-off with Marvin and John. I apparently met Marvin at 21 but didn’t remember him, and he didn’t really remember me. I re-met him the first time I went to see John, and from that first day, he was my son. But, because I knew he had family and John as well, I’ve never sent them anything or been responsible for their needs (in any capacity). I didn’t see myself as their sole support system, and thus, have held back so as not to step on their family’s toes. But Sunday changed that.

Marvin is a talker who likes to captivate my attention when I go. We spent a lot of time together walking and taking extra food I’d cooked around to the various tribes where the boys often don’t get visitors, just to spread some love. Marvin started by telling me that being up front with me and hearing me talk about how much I love him made him want to cry because it touched his heart. He said, “Explain something to me, Mom, because I don’t understand. Why is it that when you leave, I get sadder than when my family leaves? Why is it that when you don’t come to visit, I miss you more than when my family doesn’t visit? Why is it that I feel more love for you than I do for my own family? I love my family. Don’t get me wrong. But, it’s just not the same kind of love. It’s not as deep as the love I have for you. You’re more of my mom than my own mom.” I had no idea that this was so. And how crazy is that when the most I’ve ever done for Marvin is visit him, give him food when we visit, and love on him? I pray for and love him like he’s mine, but my outpouring of that love tangibly has been limited. I’ve been holding back. The same goes for John. Marvin and I talked about his mom’s own childhood and how it’s difficult for someone to give a Love he/she has never received. Marvin’s parents haven’t visited in close to four or five months.

The other eye-opener for me was John. The last time I went to visit, John was going strong and encouraging Josuan. This time, John was discouraged and ready to leave. I didn’t get too much time to talk to him because his girlfriend was there to visit, but even though he was verbally assuring me that everything was all right, I know my son better than that. He recently had his first visit outside of Teen Challenge. After so many months, they’re allowed to leave one weekend a month to visit family or whoever. His options of where to go given his past history are relatively limited, and this will be the case when he completes his time at Teen Challenge as well. (Once again, my mother’s heart wants him with me along with Jesús, Marvin, and Josuan.) Talking to Marvin and seeing John made it evident to me that my boys need more than what they’re getting—especially from me.


Take Charge of Your Family


All of this brings me to how God rocked my world just a few days ago. I went to Tsebaoth, the church here that is having 21 days of worship, prepared to hear from God. I was fervently praying for John because I don’t want to lose him. He is too valuable. He is too important. I don’t ever want to see him return to the life he had before. And, as I was praying for John and asking God what I should do, He made it clear that I need to stop holding back. “Take charge of your family, Sarah. If you don’t fight for your sons, who’s going to?” And as He said those words, He began to play images in my mind of the kinds of things I need to do—things that I’ve felt nudged to do by the Holy Spirit but haven’t because I haven’t felt capable. He started to make it clear that my greatest responsibility right now isn’t to a ministry; it’s to my family, unconventional though it may be. And, if that means I have to let go of “ministry” to take care of the family that He’s given me, then so be it. That was the first day of revelation this week which was following the next day by another, much grander revelation.



Your Maker Is Your Husband
 And this is where it gets really personal. The truth is that I’ve been holding back because there is a part of me that has been waiting for God to give me a head for my household because I didn’t want to be a single mom. I have never wanted to be a single mom, and I never thought God would ask me to do so, especially since children need both a mother and a father and because of the stigma attached to single motherhood. (You have no idea how much respect I have for single moms as a result of this short, short experience I have of being one!) After fielding my fair share of comments from Christians like, “The greatest decision of your life right now is who you’re going to marry,” I was afraid of what it would look like to other Christians to be the single, 23-year-old mom of teenage, drug addict boys. (I still stand by the truth that the greatest decision of my life at any given point in time has been and always will be whether or not I will obey Jesus no matter how large or small the request.) But, if God can ask Mary to get stuck in with the stigma of getting pregnant out of wedlock, so He could send Jesus, He can ask me to be a single mom to fulfill His perfect will too. He just doesn’t do things according to our societal expectations or to make us look good, righteous, and holy according to religious norms. He’s too creative for that. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to go ahead and accept the role as single mom. I didn’t want to accept the perpetual exhaustion, the constant lack of support from another parent, the questioning of whether or not I’m making the right parenting decisions, or the financial, emotional, and spiritual pressure and responsibility for these precious lives. I thought perhaps if I just held out a bit longer and kept begging God (as if He doesn’t already know), that He’d go ahead and give me the father for my children, and I wouldn’t have to take on a spiritual role that I don’t feel capable of.

None of this single motherhood is a surprise. When I was living in Mexico in 2010, God kept reiterating that I was going to be a mother to nations, but He also kept reiterating Isaiah 54:

“Sing, O barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the Lord.”Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities. Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is his name…”

And Isaiah 49:

Lift up your eyes and look around; all your sons gather and come to you. As surely as I live, declares the Lord, you will wear them all as ornaments; you will put them on, like a bride. Though you were ruined and made desolate and your land laid waste, now you will be too small for your people . . . The children born during your bereavement will yet say in your hearing, ‘This place is too small for us; give us more space to live in.’ Then you will say in your heart, ‘Who bore me these? I was bereaved and barren; I was exiled and rejected. Who brought these up? I was left all alone, but these—where have they come from?’

Don’t get me wrong—God has also made it clear that He does have a husband who has been set apart for me, in His time. But, even reading those verses as the blueprint for my future, I kept rationalizing that God wasn’t going to make me be a single mom. Clearly, He must have been speaking metaphorically or symbolically. Nope—the hour has arrived, and He is asking me to accept what He has made me for at this time, a single mom. I’ve always known that my nations of children are non-negotiable for any potential husband. At 23 (almost 24), I’ve never had a boyfriend largely in part due to the calling of God that He revealed in my life at an early age. Throughout my youth, there have been various guys who have passed through my life who didn’t have the same heart or calling, who didn’t necessarily treat me all that well, etc., who I could’ve convinced myself (and sometimes tried) were good enough for me, but the dream of my children and the loyalty to God’s call on my life never permitted me to settle…because they weren’t good enough to be the father of my nations of children (who, at this point, didn’t even exist in my world). But, there is a difference between motherhood and nations of children in theory and lots of adolescent sons in the flesh which cause those thoughts of, “Who on earth is going to want to be my husband if it means fathering adolescent drug addicts, orphans, gang members, thieves, the poorest of the poor, and the ones who no one else wants?” I know that this question is ultimately irrelevant because the husband God has for me, who I’ve waited so long for, will and does have the same call of God on his life. I’ve had my share of guys (before moving to Honduras and while living here) who have tried to tack themselves onto my dreams and my calling when it’s evident that they don’t have the same heart that I do. And, while I could go along with it for a while when my sons weren’t real, now that they are, I’m not willing to let anyone play with my sons’ hearts, which means being their dad isn’t a privilege just anyone can take hold of or joke about to try to stir up my feelings.

The truth of the matter is that one of the reasons I’ve been struggling so much with single motherhood, even just with all of this time with Josuan, is that I’ve taken it the wrong way. My big brother, Hermano Nati, has called me out on this before, especially on particular days where I was ready to throw in the towel by telling me something to the extent of, “Yes, Sarah, you have more time to wait before he can go to Teen Challenge. But it’s all in how you take it. All of this is in how you take it. You can take it as a blessing, a chance for God to teach you more, a preparation, or you can take it as a burden, an exhaustion, or as something that you’re just supposed to survive.” To be honest, there are days when I’m completely taking single motherhood as a punishment with thoughts that venture into, “God, after taking such good care to not be in relationships, to maintain purity, to wait for the husband You have for me, why on earth do I have to be a single mom? It doesn’t seem fair.” What a mindset, right? …as if I should somehow be earning the husband God has for me. Of course, it doesn’t work that way anymore than it works to earn God’s grace or love. The truth is that I’ve been so exhausted that I have been just surviving, not even really taking the time to learn everything God is teaching me because my mind, my emotions, and my body are just completely shot. This, however, isn’t inevitable. It comes from priorities. It comes from waiting for a man to be my husband or the father of my children instead of embracing Him as my husband and embracing myself as whom He has called me to be at this time.

The second night at Tsebaoth, I was once again turning over God’s words in my mind about taking control of my family, and He said gently, “Sarah, Your Maker is your Husband. If you will treat Me like your husband, the head of your household, and the Father of your children, you will have the strength to take control of your family, because it will be Me doing so through you.” And He began to show me ways that He had already been taking care of me like a husband—in His provision when I needed it most, in His protection when my son and I were robbed, and in giving me little gifts that I didn’t even notice because I was too tired to be looking.

“And, if I’m your husband, you can ask anything in My name, and I’ll give it to you.” That’s the first time I think I’ve ever felt the motive of that verse. I’ve always had a fear in asking God for things (not that it necessarily stopped me) because I didn’t understand why He would want to give it to me. But, oddly enough, in these days of great violence and drug massacres and hearing stories of my son’s old stomping grounds, I find myself asking God for territory—specifically drug and gang territory. I want those areas to spiritually belong to the Kingdom of God, and I want God to give them to me. I surprise myself even as the prayers escape my lips because who asks to go into the heart of the darkness? Who asks to be given drug addicts and murderers? Who asks for the area where Kevin, my little brother, was kidnapped? But, I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life . . . and mixed in with these prayers for territory, I began to understand what that verse means as I thought of the King and Esther. “Ask for anything, my love, and it will be yours…” Of course, it will be hers because he is in love. Of course, what I ask for in His name will be mine because He is my Husband. And, just like that, I understood what God was trying to give me—what had been lacking. You see, I want a radical love. I want to see people healed and raised from the dead—not to be a spiritual big shot but because Jesus said we’d do greater things than He did. I want those things to be outpourings of God’s love that bring people into a relationship with Him. But, in hearing testimonies from all over the world about the relationships that radical missionaries like Heidi Baker have with God, I knew that what was lacking for me was that level of intimacy with God.

I liked the idea, but the truth is that I had no idea how to relate to God as a husband. I can relate intimately with God as a Father, but the phases in my life where I’ve come close to relating to Him as a husband are very few and far between. (One would be during my road trip with Gabrielle in the summer of 2011, a time we happily call our honeymoon with God.) This is partially because my love languages (if you’ve ever read Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages, you’ll know what I’m talking about) are quality time and physical touch. The lack of God in the flesh is daunting sometimes, and what does it mean to take quality time with someone who you can’t see? (in a form that isn’t a devotional or some spiritual/Christian norm) I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying I didn’t know how. So, I asked Him, “And just how do I treat You like my husband?” This isn’t really that difficult of a question for me especially since I’m well known for being Miss All or Nothing, and when I love someone, I give 110% even if I’m receiving absolutely nothing in return. This can mean making food, spending amounts of money I’d never spend on myself, dropping everything to do errands or favors I don’t have to do, writing letters of affirmation, being completely available to spend quality time the second the person shows any interest in spending any time with me, and giving hugs or just being physically close. I cannot hide when I love someone, and in general, I can’t do so half-heartedly. So, even though I am in this situation of single motherhood out of love first and foremost for Jesus, He doesn’t have my 110% if He doesn’t have my priority of time, closeness, and attention as much as a human being does. He’s not really my husband if I’ll drop everything for someone else before I’ll drop everything for Him. And this realization was greatly convicting, and in my weary heart, almost guilt-inducing (which, I know, is not from God).

So He showed me an image of us on a date. He told me, “Start like this—make a candlelit dinner. Let’s eat together. Let’s talk. Let’s dance. Just let Me hold you. Take the time to dress up, to feel pretty.” And, this idea is not only completely foreign to me because I’ve never dated, but it’s also completely foreign to me because the thought of doing all of this for a person who isn’t before me in the flesh would make it seem like I’m doing all of this for me. This thought is the thought that brought me to tears because it made me realize that what God was asking me to do was just as much or more for myself than it was for Him because I don’t do nice things for myself. In the year and seven months of living here, I can’t think of a single time when I’ve taken the time to make food that was especially enjoyable or that I even really like just for myself. Usually, I scavenge and am content with whatever I happen to find in Alvin’s house or in my own cupboards that is easy. I’ve taken tons of time to cook and bake for the girls at the Eagle’s Nest, Raúl, Raúl’s family, Alvin’s family, neighbor kids, my sons, etc., but I never ever take that time or spend that kind of money to make something just for myself. Never. To me, it’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.

As a missionary, there’s often that looming thought in the back of my mind that I’m financially here due to the generosity of other people. I don’t earn my living here. God sends it to me through other people. And for that reason, when it comes to my own personal spending, I’m extremely frugal and cautious. When it comes to spending money on anyone else, on the ministry, etc., I hold nothing back. But, I usually wait until I get some birthday or Christmas money or a donation specified only for me and not the ministry that I’ll actually spend money on myself—and it’s usually for a necessity like a pair of shoes. It’s not that I don’t have the money; it is simply that I feel guilty (not even necessarily due to other people; usually it’s due to my perception of God).

Guilt has been one of my biggest struggles throughout the majority of my life, but this has especially been the case with this adventure with my son. I feel guilty when I let his nagging make me frustrated. I feel guilty when I start to pull away because I’m so emotionally exhausted. I feel guilty when I’m not spending enough time with him. I constantly battle that question of, “Am I a good mom?” And, I don’t have a husband to affirm that for me or to encourage me, so that question is often unanswered. So, when God tells me to take the time to rest in His presence and spend time with Him like a husband to build our relationship (which I would completely do without guilt if I were married to a man), it’s like He’s giving me permission to rest, to take the time to listen to His affirmation, and to just let Him hold me. Ms. Carla, my children’s pastor when I was much younger and a family friend, told Gabrielle and I while we were road tripping that while she was a single mom, she used to go to places like parks and sit down to talk with God like her husband, putting her arm around air like He was physically there to be intimate with Him. I so admire the intimacy that Ms. Carla has with God, and more so, I can see how that intimacy with God deepens the love she has in her marriage. That image has stuck in my mind, and now, I understand why.

God told me when I was 19 that I would never truly be able to be intimate with someone else until I was fully intimate with Him. So, He’s been stripping away layers of old wounds, healing as He goes. He’s been taking years to draw me closer through difficult experiences. He’s been there while I’ve been emotionally beaten up by myself and others, and we’ve reached a level of intimacy as Father and daughter. And, I’ve kept asking, knowing that He’s not going to give me a husband until we’re intimate, “Are we there yet? Are we intimate yet?” Ha ha. I imagine that if I have to ask the question, the answer should be obvious.

The truth is that I’ve known that the love of God is extravagant, and I’ve been learning more and more how to love extravagantly, but seeing God through the lens of my own guilt or through a lens of unworthiness has kept me from accepting His extravagant love for myself. It’s the reason that I’ve come so close to settling. It’s the reason that I constantly fear failing Him. It’s the reason that I struggle with doubt when I come to Him asking for the very desires He’s placed in my heart. It’s the reason that I accept mistreatment and feel like it’s what God has for me to endure because it’s what I deserve. (I know, on the contrary, that the beauty in accepting mistreatment comes when one knows precisely that God’s love runs deeper than the mistreatment and that we accept it not because it’s what we think we deserve but because persecution for the Kingdom makes us blessed.) It’s the reason that I haven’t known how to delight in Him—because it means letting Him delight in me, which I haven’t felt like I deserve. And, I now know that God has permitted Josuan to be with me for so long to bring me to this breaking point because if my relationship with God doesn’t go deeper and more intimate, my life as a missionary, as a mom, and as a Christian will level off and never ever reach its full potential. I can accept my life as a single mom because He not only gave me permission, but He designed this phase within His perfect will to make us more intimate.

To close, I want to give you a glimpse into some verses that have rocked my view of the character of God. My son and I have been discussing tithe a lot in his time with me, and in our research, I came across Deuteronomy 14:22-26, a fairly standard passage on tithing but one that inescapably reveals God’s nature as an extravagant lover.

Be sure to set aside a tenth of all that your fields produce each year. Eat the tithe of your grain, new wine and oil, and the firstborn of your herds and flocks in the presence of the Lord your God at the place he will choose as a dwelling for his Name, so that you may learn to revere the Lord your God always. But if that place is too distant and you have been blessed by the Lord your God and cannot carry your tithe (because the place where the Lord will choose to put his Name is so far away), then exchange your tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the Lord your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like: cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish. Then you and your household shall eat there in the presence of the Lord your God and rejoice.

This is the God of the Old Testament! He does not change; He was an extravagant lover then and is one now. He told the people something that in the realm of frugality or work ethic makes no sense! I send 10% of all of the support that I receive to some other part of the body of Christ—this means that 10% of my support goes to support missionaries in places like China, Uganda, Mozambique, and India. But, I can’t imagine taking that 10% just for the sole purpose having a celebratory dinner for me and God. It would scare me to spend that kind of money (from the smallest amount to the greatest) on something that on the outside would look like it’s just for me. But that’s what He ordered! He told them to enjoy, celebrating in His presence, by eating 10% of their hard work for the entire year. He told them to buy whatever THEY wanted to eat and enjoy. And, just as He is doing for me, I believe that He did this just as much or more for His people than He did for Himself. He is ordering them to take the time and the money to enjoy their blessings so that they know that their lives aren’t about their work. Their lives are about His extravagant love. The other thing I notice that I feel like I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of is this: The way that God chooses to spread His Name, take His Kingdom territory, etc., is through obedience to go where He says and through showing His extravagant love. Can you imagine the places where God led His people to spread His Name? “What is this giant crowd of people doing here, eating and drinking and celebrating? Who are they? What are they celebrating?” “They came because they’re celebrating their God’s blessings. Their God told them to eat 10% of their harvest for the year to revere and rejoice in His presence.” What person isn’t going to want in on a God who gives you everything and then demands that you use 10% to enjoy yourself in His presence?

I want to be a good wife to God. I want to let Him love me. I want to be intimate with Him, to let Him saturate every aspect of me, even my most guilt-ridden corners with His extravagant love because I see clearly now that it is only through this extravagant love that He is going to spread His name through me. It is only through His extravagant love and our being in love that He’s going to give me Kingdom territory. It is only with Him as the head of my household, as the Father of my children, and as my husband that I can be a good mom, an effective and joyful missionary, and a radical lover of others.

Just let Him love you extravagantly . . . It will turn your world upside down in the best way possible.

All of my love,
Sarah

Violent Love

My son, Josuan--have you ever seen anyone so lovable in your life? I think not.

Hello All,

What a whirlwind couple of weeks it has been! I spent my Easter week taking an adventure with my son to Oropoli, the small pueblo where he is from that is an hour further on the same road where Yuscaran is. This was my first road trip as a driver here in Honduras, and even though it was only three hours away, in some ways, it was worlds apart from my reality. We stayed with my son’s grandparents, who raised him until he left for the streets at age 12. They’re both in their eighties, and they live in a house in the middle of nowhere—you wouldn’t believe the places I drove my little car—with no electricity or indoor plumbing. We took some food with us because I never like to go places empty-handed, and it was good that we did. We spent peaceful days going to swim in some hot springs and in the river, and we ate coconuts, mangoes, and yucca grown on their property. We listened to the radio by candlelight at night and went to a Church of Christ service with Josuan’s uncle, whose life has completely turned around after being an alcoholic who was in jail for a time. It is very tricky to be an adoptive mom to someone who still has family. His grandparents were very sweet and accepting of me, and his grandmother told me that she considers me to be part of the family. But, I looked at this living situation and this woman who spent her life mercifully raising my son (and she obviously does care greatly for him), and I couldn’t help but feel like, “Who am I? What qualifications or right do I have to be raising this kid?” Hearing my son calling me “Mami” in front of his grandmother and being sensitive to her feelings or being constantly loved on and embraced by my son in front of his family was surprisingly very difficult for me because I didn’t feel like I deserved it. I have a month and a half of being his mom in the sense of being the one responsible for him compared to the years his grandparents have struggled with him. And, quite honestly, even as my son was giving me hugs and telling me, “I love you so much, Mami,” I could feel myself just freezing up inside and building walls around my heart because I didn’t feel worthy of that love. I’m perfectly comfortable being the one loving, serving, and giving, but when that love is reciprocated, I have great difficulty in receiving it. When we went to the church service with Josuan’s uncle, in typical God-fashion, in a worship service that didn’t include any flash or instruments and consisted of dry voices and worn song books, He found me. He reminded me of the very same thing He told me in October of last year when I was convinced that God had picked the wrong girl to be a missionary here because I didn’t feel like I had enough patience or compassion to do a good job. He told me, “I chose you. You’re Josuan’s mom because I chose you. That is what qualifies you.” And I couldn’t help but cry as my son wrapped me up in his arms and buried his head in my shoulder because there is no greater privilege or greater reassurance than that the God of the universe picked you.

It was a good trip, very eye-opening. I can see how my son went astray, and I can see much pain that resides in each member of the family. And, as I was praying that God would show me how to love them, I think the answer I received was that my role was to love Josuan back to life, and through Josuan, God’s going to do the rest of the restoring in the rest of the family.



Josuan with his Mamá (grandmother)

What a little man...

The hot springs

The river

 

                                            Josuan's Papá (grandfather) and I
Motherhood

I’m the kind of person who gives 100% or nothing. This has been true in my short span of motherhood as well, but there’s a catch to this aspect of my personality. I only have the strength (especially as an introvert) to give 100% of myself when I have a set deadline and know how long I have to last until I can rest. Thus, because I received my son in a baby-like state when he couldn’t walk, I set myself up doing everything for him even though he’s 16 because he couldn’t do it himself and because I was so afraid of being a bad mom. (I’m way more difficult on myself than anyone else ever is on me.) Thus, even though I’ve been exhausted not just from washing laundry by hand, trying to figure out how to feed someone who after spending years eating out of dumpsters is surprisingly a very picky eater, and from running between Raúl’s house and my house but also because I have someone demanding my undivided time and attention at all times, I just kept telling myself that it was just until he goes to Teen Challenge—not much longer. Thus, he was being a bit spoiled, really, after he could start moving around on crutches because I thought, “How long am I going to have him with me? I might as well take advantage of the time together.” So, I took him to his first movie and his first time to the circus. I’m learning so much about being a parent, more than I could ever express, but I will say that one of the joys I’ve discovered in being a parent is seeing the wonder on your child’s face when he or she is experiencing something for the first time. It makes the world seem new again. So, these were definite joys, but the exhaustion and lack of time to be by myself to reflect, recharge, and even just to sleep has been wearing on me.



We invited Raúl to the circus with us...



My boys in their crazy pink shirts. I promise you that my son has other shirts; it's just that the pink one is his favorite. What can I say? Josuan thinks the world of Raúl.

The honeymoon phase has worn off. Thus, my son gets angry when he doesn’t get his way, and as a single mom, I have absolutely no one to back me up. Thankfully, he’s never back-talked me or gotten physical in any way; he just acts like a five-year-old all angry and serious and looking back at me every so often to see if his behavior is going to make me cave and give him what he wants (it’s not). My child is so precious that I have to laugh at this moment (that I’m thankfully not on mom duty because Raúl is graciously giving me a break) at the fact that he fake sneezes, acts like he’s falling with his crutches, or repeats Raúl’s jokes or phrases or the nickname Raúl gave me that I hate (La Jefa—the boss woman) over and over just to get my attention, but it does wear me out. I am learning to say no and how to tune out nagging. I’m learning not to let my fear that my kid is going to leave me and return to a life of drugs keep me from disciplining him when he needs it. It’s not easy, and like I said, I’ve been telling myself, “Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer.”


In the past week, I’ve had three people on separate occasions tell me that I’m looking really skinny, and I don’t get the impression that they’re complimenting me. It could be because I don’t even remember to eat, or if I do, it’s an orange or a piece of bread or whatever happens to be within reach as I’m running out the door to make sure my son has eaten, has done his physical therapy exercises, or is ready to go to his doctor’s appointment. Sleep is also limited because when I get home from whatever has occupied my day and after being surrounded by people or bombarded with, “Mami, look at this! Mami, I want this! Jefa, please? Jefa, why not?”, my brain needs some time to digest and recharge even before it’ll let me sleep. My grocery bills are outrageous. My house is in a general state of mess. And, it’s more or less a miracle if I can get through a day without crying at some point. I say all of this and know that none of this is new for many of you who have years and years of being parents. This, however, is all very very new for me. I never thought my first child would be a 16-year-old with drug problems who’s lived for the past four years on the streets off and on. I never thought I’d be a single mom. I never realized I’d be fielding questions like, “Why can Hermano Nati’s children go to do street ministry with you, but I can’t?” or comments like, “Mami, please don’t tell people I’m your adopted son. I don’t like the sound of that. People don’t have to know I’m adopted.” It, of course, does not matter that we look incredibly different, nor does it matter that I usually can’t even pass for 23 much less old enough to have a 16-year-old son.


Thus, when we went to the Teen Challenge office for what was probably a fourth or fifth time, I was begging God to have mercy on me. We’d gone on April 1, waited all morning, and were told that he should wait until Friday, April 5, just to give him more time to recuperate. We come back on Friday, wait all morning, and were told by the pastor that he’d definitely go on Monday. I thought I was going to collapse with exhaustion, and that weekend we spent together nearly drove me to my breaking point, but we’ll get to that in a second. We go on Monday of this week, wait all morning, and the pastor sends his assistant to tell us that they won’t accept him until he can walk without crutches. I nearly cried. The assistant told me in English, so my son is excitedly asking me, “I’m not leaving yet? Are we going home?” and I’m trying to fathom how I’m going to maintain my sanity for another month and half at least. I let him know what was said and let him into the car to wait for me while I pay for Jesús. I’m doing my best to breathe, but all I can envision is dropping my son off at Raúl’s house and going to Raúl’s business to collapse into exhaustion tears. But, when I enter the car, I see pain all over my son’s face, and he tells me bravely, “If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, if you need to, you can put me in Casa Alianza. It’s ok.” I just about died, and just like a defibrillator shocking me back to life, I feel a surge of love within me that screams that there is no way I can do that. It would be the greatest mistake of my life. So, I pull his face to look at mine, stare into his eyes and tell him, “Honey, there is no way I’m going to do that. You don’t stop being my son just because you’re not going to Teen Challenge yet. You don’t stop being my son just because I’m tired. I’m going to find a way to take a rest, and I’m going to be okay, and we’ll be fine.” He looks away, unconvinced, and we start talking about how I need help. Now that he can wash his own clothes, he needs to. We can bring my little two-burner stove to Raúl’s, so he can help cook some of his own meals. I need him to quit nagging me so much about practicing to drive, etc. and to learn that when I say no, I mean no. We stop to get groceries, so the whole process can begin again, but before we get out of the car, I give him a hug and tell him, “You’re not a burden. You’re my son, and I love you. Don’t worry. Don’t feel bad. We’re okay.” And, within hours, he’s back to himself, telling me, “Jefa, I’m been thinking about what I want for my birthday…” His birthday is in February, ladies and gentlemen.


Violent Love

This past weekend, I had my first experience of the violence that gets proclaimed in every newspaper in Honduras every day. Because I thought I was only going to have my son for another weekend and because I was wondering what I was going to do with that time, I decided to teach him how to drive. The fracture is in his femur, so he can move his feet just fine. We went to a place where Estiven had told me to go with Benjamin months ago whenever I was practicing driving. I hadn’t had any problems there—it’s just an empty spot on the side of the main road heading towards the city—so I figured we’d be okay. We were there for an hour or so, and I was loving the look on his face as he’s telling me excitedly, “Jefa! Look at me! I’m actually driving!” We were talking about leaving and were stopped, so he could practice the equilibrium of the clutch and accelerator when two guys headed towards us. They looked serious, and I thought they were going to tell us we needed to leave. Had I been in the driver’s seat, I wouldn’t have waited for them to get to us. I would’ve just left. But, I wasn’t in the driver’s seat, and my son can’t drive that well yet. I knew we were in trouble when they came to both sides of the car casually and confidently. The young man on the side of my son yanked the keys from the ignition and had his other hand beneath his shirt. “Give me all you’ve got, or I’ll stick a bullet in you. You’re walking home.” I won’t lie—at no point in time did it cross my mind that he was actually going to shoot me or that I could die. We never actually saw a gun. That may be a little absurd seeing as Honduras is the murder capital of the world, and life is so cheap here. But, it just didn’t cross my mind. Instead, I was telling God, “Please, not my car. Please?” I apparently wasn’t moving fast enough as they took the cell phone I’d loaned to my son and his $5 watch. So, the guy looked at me and told me again, “Give me what you have, or I’ll shoot you!” The other guy on my side thrust his hand inside the door to feel my pocket, so I handed him my cell phone. He grabbed my purse, but I told him, “Wait, I’ll get the money out for you.” I don’t know why I said that other than the thought of losing my debit card, residency card, driver’s license, etc. was just too much, and because like I said, it never actually occurred to me that I was in physical danger. Surprisingly enough, the young man waited for me to take out the near $35 dollars and let me keep my purse. They also didn’t take my rings, and when they were leaving, they threw the keys to my car back at me.

My son’s first response was, “You see how God is?” So, we had a long conversation about how there is no reason to blame God. If anything, we should be grateful. Nothing happened to us. They didn’t take some of my most valuable items, miraculously didn’t take the car, and what we did lose was minimal. “I don’t even think they had a gun. I wasn’t going to give them anything!” My son was fuming until I reminded him, “What makes you any different from them?” The majority of assaults like that happen because of drug addictions to crack—a drug to which my son is addicted. While I didn’t know it when I took him in, he later told me that he’d wandered the streets with a knife robbing people to buy crack. “Yeah, but that was me before! I’m not like that now!” “Josuan, everyone has a before. Everyone has a history. The only difference is a matter of time. There is hope for everyone.” “I hope those guys get cancer.” “Honey, let’s analyze here—when you were robbing people, it’s possible someone said something like that about you. Do you want to get cancer?” “No.” “Well, then there is no reason for you to wish that upon them. If anything, we need to forgive them and pray for them. What a sad life—a life you know well—empty and high on drugs without Jesus.”

I recovered my phone number the same day and called the phone number of the cell phone that I’d loaned to my son (since I didn’t recover that number). I don’t really know what I had in mind other than I wanted to witness to the thieves, tell them God loves them, and that I forgave them. But, they didn’t answer.

In the evening, I dared to ask my son, “When you robbed people at knife point, if they refused to give you what you wanted, what did you do?” “I stabbed them. I never killed anybody, but sometimes, people were bleeding.”

And this is the reason that I share this with you:
It’s not to scare you. It’s not even to prompt you to pray for my safety (although those prayers are always needed and appreciated). It’s to let you know something God made very clear to me through this experience. The only way to change a country as violent as Honduras is to love as violently as the thieves, rapists, gang members, murderers, and drug addicts rage. And that is possible! It is possible because I’m living it. My son used to be a thief. My son used to rob people at knife point. My son has stabbed people before. But, I look at his life, and first of all, I know that he is forgiven, that his past is no match for God’s grace. And, secondly, I see how furiously God is loving my son and how that is changing his heart and his life. I see the way that God is rescuing him from his drug addictions. I see the bravery and strength that God has placed in my own heart to take him in. I see the sincerity of his heart during worship services, and I feel so loved in his embrace. I marvel at his capacity to forgive his parents. I am surprised that he hasn’t left me for the streets because he truly wants to change. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that 1 John 4:4 is true:

 You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

So, why should I fear? Why should I feel weary? God has already overcome the world. My son may be one person, but this one person loved back to life, loved into the Kingdom of God, can wreak just as much havoc in the spiritual realm for the Kingdom of God as he used to wreak in the natural for his empty heart and drug addictions. It brings me to tears when he tells me about waking up from dreams of praying for people and seeing them liberated. It brings me to tears to watch him worship and know that the places God is going to take my son and the call of God on his life are so much greater than I can imagine. I am just one little person. One new, inexperienced, adoptive mom. But, tired or not, how can I not continue to stop for this one person? How can I grow weary in doing this good when I know that stopping for this one can mean that he'll stop for another one and can mean that Honduras changes one person at a time?

I'll leave you with the scripture that has been keeping me going the past couple of days:
Isaiah 40:27-31:
Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, "My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God"? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

All my love,
Sarah

Easter lunch with Hermano Nati, Hermana Martha, and family--they have been such a huge support system for me!




A Mother's Heart

 

 

Josuan and I at Teen Challenge before he broke his leg


Josuan
I went to bed last night with a text in English from my son, Josuan, still playing in my mind. “Good night mother. Love you forever.” We’ve spent nearly three weeks together while he’s been living at Raúl’s, and I’ve been going every day to take care of him. I wouldn’t trade these three weeks for anything in the world even though they haven’t been the easiest. It’s scary to be a mom. I’ve never been the only person responsible for someone else’s life before, and it’s a heavy responsibility that keeps me running to Jesus. Just two weeks into motherhood, I was already fielding questions like, “Mom, I have to ask your permission to have a girlfriend, right? How old do I have to be before you’ll give me permission to have a girlfriend?” I pretty much thought I was just going to have to crawl in a hole and hide because I couldn’t believe that this young man who has spent the past four years on the streets independently is willing to submit himself to my rules. But, instead, I called my own dad ready to laugh-cry telling him that I’m not ready to be a mom. Every day, I hear my parents’ words, advice, and rules leaving my own mouth, and while this is often a young person’s worst nightmare, it’s something for which I’m very grateful. It means that I have good parents. It means that I had a good example. It means that unlike the majority of parents in this country, even though I’m still learning how to be a good parent, I had a guideline and still have people just a phone call away who can offer me advice and direction.


I won’t lie—it has been a stretching three weeks, but God has been so faithful! Towards the middle of February, I was looking at my finances, having just made a payment to Alvin for what I still owed him for my car, and I was budgeting. I was thinking about what large costs would be coming to be able to budget myself until my next deposit at the end of the month. I was going to be fine, and I wasn’t worried even though I didn’t know how much the deposit from Outreach Christian Fellowship was going to be. But, then all of this with Josuan happened—an expense I was in no way expecting. When they told me how much it was going to cost to buy the pins to operate on his leg, I was mentally referring to my bank account to know if I was going to be able to do it. The money was there. Then there have been the expenses of paying a nurse to come to the house to clean his wound and take out his stitches. There have been the expenses of everyday living—food, water, and helping Raúl out. At the end of February/beginning of March, I was watching my bank account dwindle and laugh-crying because I had no idea how I was going to make it work. I knew I had the deposit from Outreach coming, but I never know how much it’s going to be. One month it was $25. Others it’s been much more. When I finally found out how much the deposit was, I nearly cried with joy but was even further surprised when I got a text from my mom telling me to call her about my finances. I thought, “Poor Mom, she doesn’t know that I already got the good news before she could tell me.” But, I was wrong. She had more good news—I had gotten more support sent directly to my house rather than just through Outreach. And, all in all, the money I received was the most I’d ever received in all the time that I’ve lived here. It was enough to pay off my debt to Alvin and has been more than enough to sustain my son, (Raúl), and I in the past month. And, in all of this, as I’m reaching out to my son and hoping that he’s learning that he’s not an orphan, God is teaching me that I’m not an orphan either. I have a Heavenly Father with untamed riches who always knows my needs and who provides right when I need it.


In the past three weeks, my son and I have spent countless hours talking. We’ve been over every detail of the day he went back to the streets—where he went, what drugs he bought, how much they cost, who he hung out with, etc. We’ve been over a typical day in his life as a street kid. We’ve talked about his childhood, his past girlfriends, his past hurts, when he accepted Jesus at the age of 12, and his difficulty to forgive his parents. His sense of family is lacking especially since he grew up with his grandparents—with a sweet yet naïve grandmother and an alcoholic, womanizing grandfather who drank the family into great poverty and was abusive to my son’s grandmother. He has been shuffled around or has moved around from house to house, center to center, and has had numerous people try to help him. He’s gone through phases where he’s done well, been off drugs, and working, but they’ve never lasted more than a couple months. Hearing these stories of other relatives, strangers, and even other Christians who have tried to help him leave his drug addictions behind scares me and makes me think, “What makes me any different?” But, I’m not in this for results. I’m in this for love and obedience. But, it’s inevitable that the more time I spend with him, and the more he becomes mine, the more I love him. And, because of that love, there is a part of me so scared of losing my baby. But, this is all God’s work. I have to believe that God’s furious, raging love is enough to rescue my son. The frequency of my prayers for him have become like breathing, and I proclaim the words of Kim Walker-Smith’s song “Break Every Chain” over his life every day. There is power in the name of Jesus to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain. Sometimes, the conviction and authority I feel in declaring those words makes me feel as if I’m slashing the darkness with invisible power, with my song. My son confides in me that he thinks his grandfather practices witchcraft, and the more we talk, the more I realize that this drug addiction is indeed a chain—a generational curse. His great grandfather was a drunk; his grandfather is a drunk; his father who abandoned him is addicted to marijuana and alcohol, and he has a long list of drugs he’s addicted to. But, I make it clear to him that his life does not have to continue in that path. He can be the one to run to Jesus to break that generational curse. His life doesn’t have to continue like his fathers’ before him, and his children’s lives can be different as well.


This past Sunday, we went to Teen Challenge to visit my other sons, and they were celebrating Father’s Day here. The boys performed a drama to a song, “Donde Estas” by Alex Zurdo. The song is a like a letter from a son to an absentee father who perhaps sends child support but who has no real presence or role in the son’s life. Sitting beside Josuan and knowing his story—knowing that his father left for Mexico when he was little, knowing the only thing his father ever gave him was a treasured bicycle, and that the only father figure he’s ever had was a womanizing, abusive alcoholic—I feel the pain of my baby even though he’s looking forward seriously and saying nothing. I call you. I search for you. I don’t have any other attention. Where are you? Where are you? I’m your blood, your son lacking your love. Where are you? Where are you? I put my arm around him in an embrace, and he buries his head in my shoulder where the tears fall as he whispers in my ear, “I just don’t have a dad.” I hold him tightly, but what can I say? I love my child more than life itself. He’s my son. I’m his mom, but I can’t be his dad. I look up talking to my Heavenly Father with a broken heart, “Daddy, please be my baby’s father, and please give me a father for my sons.” On the way home, my son is explaining to Hermana Martha why he was crying, but he assures her, “It’s okay though. I may not have a dad, but I DO have a mom.” And I reply, “You have a Heavenly Father. And we’re trusting God to provide you an earthly father.”


This past Monday, we went to the Teen Challenge office to talk to the pastor. The earliest he’ll be able to go is April 1 because he has to go to his check-up first to know if he needs a cast or physical therapy and because the week of Easter, the Teen Challenge office will be closed. Part of me is incredibly exhausted and—I won’t lie—is looking forward to a rest. But the majority of me knows that when he does go to Teen Challenge, he’s going to leave a massive hole in my heart, my life, and my time. My days are spent visiting him, helping him with walking on crutches to the bathroom and the shower, and now that he can move around on crutches well, running errands with him. We celebrate little victories every day when he can move more or farther or easier on crutches. When I had someone else taking care of him during the days I had to help translate for the team from Canada who was here, I would call him numerous times a day to make sure he’d eaten, taken his medicine, and just check in because I missed him. My evenings are spent with my little family—Josuan and Raúl. Because I’m going through the trouble of cooking for Josuan and myself, I bring food for Raúl too. And we eat together and watch movies together before I go home. It blesses me how Raúl has helped me with Josuan, when he's concerned about buying him socks, or when he gives me advice when I'm at a loss for an answer. I like to watch my son joking with Raúl, and I can’t help but smile when he makes comments to me about how he wants to buy a motor bike just like Raúl and have the same hobby of motocross. Before I go to sleep, I ask God to hold my heart because I know that when my baby leaves, even though I know he needs to be in Teen Challenge, my heart’s going to break. I’m going to miss our little family.


This time has been so precious to me and has been such a God-given blessing for my son as well. He struggles often with the question of “Why me? Why did my mom abandon only me? Why did she keep all of my brothers and sisters with her but not me?” Initially, he was really jealous of his adopted brothers at 21, on the street, and Teen Challenge and told me often that he wanted to be my only son. I just had to laugh and tell him that he was going to have to get over it because God told me a long time ago that I was going to be a mother of nations. Since Sunday, though, I have seen a change in his attitude. He’s ready and excited to be with his brothers. And, I feel reassured to know that he’s going to be surrounded by love and family. It's going to be hard to let him go and put him in God's protective hands, but I'm excited to see what God is capable of doing in his life and heart. I don’t know what God is doing with my life; I don’t know what He has for me next. But, my life this year has opened my heart radically and has exploded with love, and I’m excited for the next adventure of obedience.


Teen Challenge a month ago during the church service



Teen Challenge



Hermano Nati with Josuan a month ago at Teen Challenge



Some of my sons with me at Teen Challenge a month ago--
Josuan, Marvin, and John

Teen Challenge

This past Sunday, I headed to Teen Challenge to visit my sons with Josuan, Hermana Martha, Ashley, and Marelyn. (Those young women are all involved in Yuscaran ministry and street ministry with me.) Words cannot express the joy I felt in my heart in seeing a much happier, much more settled in Jesús dancing up front during praise and worship. When I met my precious son, he couldn’t stand or walk or talk, but now, he is dancing for Jesus. Is there any greater miracle? Is there anything more beautiful? My child had no one. My child didn’t know where he was going to go or what he was going to do. The path of his life was leading to death through drugs and gang life, but now, I see joy on his face. There is hope for my Jesús just like there is hope for John, for Marvin, for Eric, and for Josuan. “Mom! I’m already changing because Jesus is helping me!” There is no greater joy for this proud mama. When the service was over, and we had all eaten together, Jesús wanted to take some pictures together. As I mentioned, they were celebrating Father’s Day, and my heart broke thinking of Jesús whose father died when he was around 10, but God is holding each one of my sons in His hands. “I want to get a picture in front of the mural of Jesus because God’s my Heavenly Father!”


It was a great day. Marvin entertained us all with jokes and took me around to see each house for each tribe. John had to work guarding the gate, but we got to see him when we were leaving. He and Josuan have known each other for a long time, and hearing my oldest son advising and encouraging Josuan blessed me in a way I can’t explain. John has such a gift of being a leader, and when I first met him a year ago, my dream was to see my son using that amazing gift of leadership for the Kingdom of God. Months and months of prayer later, here he is doing just that. I am so unbelievably privileged that I just get to be here to witness it. And it has been such a blessing to have people like Nati, Martha, Marelyn, and Ashley who are such ready partners in this motherhood and are there to encourage me and my sons.


Some days, I feel like a terrible mom. Some days, I feel like I’m not enough or like I’m so tired that I’m going to collapse. Some days, I beg God to not make me continue to be a single mom. This role as mami is so humbling because I have no idea what I’m doing. Some days, I feel so overwhelmed when faced with the question from John or Jesús or Josuan of, “After my year in Teen Challenge, where am I going to go, Mom?” And, I don’t have an answer. A lot can happen in a year, and I certainly hope it does. And, it’s certain that I want my sons close to me, but we just have to wait on God because only He knows how He is going to provide for our needs. He has worked so miraculously in the lives of my sons with such little effort from myself that I have to trust that while I can't make anything happen, He is making everything happen in ways that I never dreamed possible. All He asks of me is supernatural love and enough obedience to say "yes" to Jesus when the Holy Spirit is tugging on my heart.

Jesús with his Heavenly Father

  

 Proud, joyful mother and precious son




Just spending time with my boys...



Street Ministry

For a little over the past month, Hermano Nati, Hermana Martha, and I have been going with a varying collection of friends that usually includes Marelyn and Ashley and sometimes others to give out food on the streets of Comayaguela at night. We go on behalf of Papi Alvin, who has already built a reputation and trust with the street dwellers, but Papi has never gone with our little group. As money permits, we go once a week. In the past couple of weeks, we’ve taken sweatshirts and sweatpants because God graciously provided the money to buy some bales of used sweatshirts and sweatpants that were at half price. We are doing our best to learn names and stories and just spend some time at each of our various stops. At one of our stops, that is primarily full of impoverished (and often hungry) families, we put on a cartoon movie about Jesus’ miracles and had a bit of evangelization time. The kids there are already asking when we’ll bring another movie.

Each stop is uniquely different, with different faces and different attitudes. Just like the dynamic of every class for a teacher is different, the dynamic of each one of our stops is completely different. The majority of our people are young people, but we see small children, adults, and elderly as well. One of the places we go is where my son, Josuan, used to hang out. I happen to like that spot a lot simply because it’s almost guaranteed that I’ll see several of my 21 boys. I see Jonathan from time to time and my son’s best friend, Fredy.

I think the biggest amazement for us as a group is less about what we’re doing for these kids—it’s more about what God is doing in our own hearts. We are absolutely compelled by love. We anticipate with excitement when the day approaches that we’re going to the streets because it’s like going to see our own children. God has given us a heart of adoption, and it’s evident not only in the love that He’s placed in our hearts but also in the ways that the children themselves call us “Mami” and “Papi.” While this has been the case for me for a long time in the IHNFA centers, etc., it continues with us that we go to a stop and see or talk to a kid and feel an instant connection that tells us, “This child is yours.” And while we go for all of the children and adults, there is a special search that takes place each time we go to a spot where one of our children lives. Our eyes scan the crowds methodically until we see our precious child’s face, or we ask around until we know where he or she is.

We have big dreams with this work, but we also have a commitment to obey only God’s direction. We’re not in this to build our own kingdom or frantically or forcefully try to make our needs be met or dreams come to fruition. There is a learning curve. There are no shortcuts with God, and if and when He means for us to have more or do more, He Himself will lead the way. For the moment, even though I’m sometimes overwhelmed by the need to have a place to take the street kids who want to leave the life of the streets, I’m almost afraid to have more on my shoulders because I’m overwhelmed with just one son who came from the streets. I need the learning curve. I need the preparation. I need God to give me the patience, wisdom, and endurance at His pace because if I go at mine, I’ll burn out. We’re making a start. We’re doing our best to be faithful in the small things. We know that there are more needs than just food once a week. We know that a sweatshirt can’t warm a heart like Jesus. But, we want to love in His way, not ours. We want to show them Jesus consistently not just in handing them a tract or giving them a sermon and ditching. We want to come alongside them. We want them to feel like part of a loving family. We want them to see Jesus in us as much or more than they hear about Jesus. We don’t just want to do the easy thing in handing them a sandwich, inviting them to church, and not taking the time to hear them and really see them. We want to fulfill the Great Commission to go into the darkest corners with the light of the Gospel rather than expecting a broken, often ashamed collection of beautiful people to have the bravery to grace our church doors. Jesus told us to go and preach the Gospel. He didn’t say go tell people to come to your church to hear the Gospel. And, as St. Francis of Assisi said, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.” We are the temples of the Holy Spirit which means that we can bring Him to them wherever we go. And the Gospel really is as simple as, “Stop for the One and stop for the one.” The Gospel sometimes looks like holding a sleepy child. Sometimes, it looks like a plate of rice. Sometimes, it looks like thumb wrestling with a dirty kid, high on shoe glue. More than anything, the Gospel is Love manifested, and it’s radical obedience, and we feel privileged that God is letting us be a part of his precious work with our friends and sons and daughters who live on the streets.

Some of our kids and I. The little guy in my arms is my special friend, Wilmer. He is SO PRECIOUS!



Benjamin and Nick



Marelyn and Ashley with one of our boys

Playing the movie in the middle of the dirt

This boy recognized me because he was at 21 during Christmas time and received a gift from me.

Ariel and I--he's one of my 21 boys, and he cries every time I leave.

 

Thomas with our kids

Sorting through sweatpants with Hermana Martha

Hermano Nati with his adoptive son, Oscar

"Morry" and I--he never wants to tell me his real name

The boy in the picture is Fredy, my son, Josuan's best friend

Sorting through sweatshirts with Hermano Nati

Junior (who is my 11-year-old son) with Nick

Canada Team
We recently had a great team from a church in Canada, Lifebridge, who took part in street ministry with us (as well as every other part of the ministry). These very special 18 people took the time to listen to our stories and to encourage us. We were so blessed by their generosity, their interest in the lives of our adopted sons and daughters, and their support.

Moises, Dave, and Junior



Some of the Lifebridge team

What's Next?

Personally, I feel as if I'm back to where I was a month ago. It's kind of a, "This is good. I know I'm being obedient to God. I'm tired but I'm full of joy and amazed by the depth of the love He's put in my heart. But, what's next? There's got to be more, so what's next?" That’s how I was feeling a month ago, like something was lacking. And that’s exactly when all of this adventure with Josuan happened. If someone would have told me even in January that I’d be taking care of a street kid (not just any street kid but my adopted son) in Raúl’s house for a month, I would’ve thought that person was crazy. But my heart has just burst wide open in a way I never expected simply by saying “yes” to Jesus. God Himself is teaching me. The Holy Spirit is giving me the wisdom and endurance day by day. But, once my son goes to Teen Challenge and this adventure is over, what’s next? I can’t be content with being a “normal,” comfortable missionary. I can’t be content with a “normal,” comfortable ministry. His love is deeper, wider, and more unpredictable than that. I can’t be satisfied with falling into a routine of what it means to love or what it means to minister when God has made it clear through this experience that He has more, He asks for more, and longs to let me be a part of more. I don’t want to miss any opportunity to become more like Jesus. So, Papá God, what’s next?

All of my love,
Sarah