New Season

Hello Again

Though unintentional, I’ve been on a blogging hiatus for a few months. Since getting back from the States, things have been busy, and I’ve been trying to process it all. I’m coming up on my fourth anniversary as a missionary to Honduras, and I’m happy to see how God is stretching me and making changes in my life. It’s easy to feel like one is in the middle of a tornado when transition periods strike, but I would always prefer the uncomfortable whirlwinds to the stale, murkiness of stagnant waters.

Right now, there is no normalcy or routine, which is both good and frustrating for my schedules, to-do lists, and plans personality. I’ve been in the midst of still teaching English classes, getting further involved in ministry in Ojojona, examining the vision for Family of Promise Ministry, meeting lots of new people through the pastors in Ojojona, still meeting my obligations for my remaining kids, caring for my relationship with Raul, and dealing with the ins and outs of transportation issues, working to help Raul better manage his business, life in general, etc.


Words of Life
While in the States, I had a wonderful time of visiting with my family and seeing friends. I also utilize time in the States to read. Reading is one of the best ways I have to replenish my spiritual forces, challenge myself, and continue learning. The best way I know how to explain what God is doing in my heart and life right now is by sharing what I’ve been learning through reading and through the encounters God is giving me with people of honor. Just to give you a glimpse of what God has been using to speak to me, here is the list of what I’ve read or been reading:

Scary Close by Donald Miller – This book opened my eyes to see how untrue I am to myself and who God created me to be whenever I let fear of rejection dictate how I act (or hide) in relationships. I’d grown accustomed to giving the people what they want (time or resources) or hiding instead of giving them what they need at times—though may not want—(correction, exhortation, teaching, discipline, a solid “no,” etc.). The only area in ministry where I was able to maintain a backbone balance of love and discipline was with my children—they’ve been great sources of growth and developing bravery and character in my life. Being in ministry (especially after already dealing with lots of ministry situations that have been painful) is scary. Giving all of yourself (not just time and resources but personality, advice, opinions, and spiritual gifts) to others is a very vulnerable place to enter. As an introvert, it’s incredibly difficult. There is definitely a need for discernment in ministry, and I don’t regret having used discernment in what I choose to invest myself in whole-heartedly. However, that same guardedness can be detrimental and rob us of destiny if we are finally led by God to the prepared arena and still don’t want to jump in for fear of rejection or due to old wounds that tell us we’re always destined to be rejected. We fear pain so often, when God is the Author and Finisher of restoration. I can’t count how many times God has stitched my heart back up with threads of forgiveness, truth, and unconditional love even in the midst of humans who have failed me. When we really understand who we are in Him, we are free to be ourselves fully and unapologetically, even if the way we challenge others could cause defense or rejection. We’ll never really know the depths of our relationships until we take our shoes off, let our hair down, and present the profound flaws and gifts we have before one another.

The Ultimate Treasure Hunt by Kevin Dedmon – This is a book I have yet to put into practice but plan to. I’ve never been the type of person who is prone to sit down next to a total stranger and start evangelizing. That is often because I hate small talk, I feel like the majority of people I encounter (even here) have already heard the Gospel spiel, and I am more prone to want to offer more meaning to their personal situation. In general, this usually requires prolonged attention and listening and relationship rather than an instant-gratification speech or repeat-after-me prayer. I can’t get past the question of “What good does it do for them to “pray the prayer” if they have no one to disciple them or teach them who they are in Christ?” (Jesus did say to make disciples, not just to meet a quota of people who’ve repeated the Sinner’s Prayer.) But, they both obviously have their place. To me, the technique of “treasure hunting,” or using Holy Spirit-given words of knowledge to total strangers to initiate prayer for healing, salvation, or whatever else—basically giving someone a supernatural encounter with the love of Jesus—, is the best marriage of the two. And, the best part is how it deepens our relationship and intimacy with the Holy Spirit. My difficulty in putting this into practice has been when I mentioned previously—fear of failure or rejection, feeling like I have nothing to offer, etc., but I’m getting there.

The Biblical Guidebook to Deliverance by Randy Clark – This book is short but incredibly eye-opening. I recently read an article in which missionaries expressed what they wish they would’ve known before coming to the field. One echoed response was the need to be schooled in spiritual warfare. I second this whole-heartedly. I have learned extreme lessons in spiritual warfare from being in Honduras—whether it’s been in seeing demons manifest and people delivered, physically seeing angels, realizing the reality of generational curses, seeing the effects of witch doctors, or seeing the demonic influence my children’s attitudes. It’s the reality that the majority of the US church does not see or does not acknowledge or emphasize. I have no idea where I would’ve gone in my little town (apart from reading books and listening to messages from other places and other people) to learn the lessons of spiritual warfare that I’ve needed to learn here. Thus, I applaud this book by Randy Clark because it gives a glimpse into the world that lives beyond our senses and how to combat the roots of what causes much destruction that we simply explain away. “My people are destroyed by lack of knowledge” (Hosea 4:6) is the absolute truth, and if we were to lift up a generation of people skilled in spiritual warfare, we would see drastic changes in our worldwide spiritual climate.

The World’s Greatest Revivals by Fred and Sharon Wright – I don’t really know fully what God’s doing in me or what He’s preparing me for, but He has drastically been expanding my vision and globalizing my mindset. Reading this book was an awesome way to get a bigger picture of who God is and how He moves. It makes me want to be a part of a movement so much bigger than myself, to be a small building block in the construction of His Kingdom on earth. This book also really emphasizes that the current wave of revival still sweeping the earth deals with the paternity of God and how to recapture the understanding of what it means to be sons and daughters of God. This is exactly what God is restoring in my heart in terms of ministry right now. He’s teaching me how to be free in ministry because of His unconditional love and delightful covering of grace.

The Happy Intercessor by Beni Johnson – For a long time, I never really considered myself an intercessor because I’m not the kind of person to get up, get on my knees, and yell petitions for hours at a time. (That is completely my Raúl though.) I used to run, and while listening to worship music, God would often talk to me and place people on my heart to pray for, but my form has never “fit the mold” of what Christian society says is intercession. With that said, I am, by nature, incredibly empathetic. I have the gift of receiving the emotions of others as if I were a sponge, and it doesn’t matter if it’s standing in line at the bank, reading a comment on Facebook, or sitting in a worship service, I can’t stop intuitively “reading” the crowd. To be honest, I haven’t often seen it as a gift because I haven’t known how to use it. Often, it’s just been a source of exhaustion, and a reason for me to hide at home rather than going out into people-crowded areas that can fill me with anxiety and burdens with no warning. But, this book was so helpful in pointing out how to use that gift and that while my form may not fit the expectations of others in religious circles that I am very much an intercessor though it often comes in periods of intense worship, through prophetic painting, dance, travail, and just loving unconditionally those that no one wants to deal with. If intercession is essentially stepping in between God and others as a vessel of mercy, then that is exactly what I’ve done and continue to do with my kids and others in my life.

Encountering God through Dance by Saara Taina – For probably all of this year, God has been speaking to me through dance. This is very weird for me because while I’ve loved to dance (bob up and down more than anything else, ha ha) in praise, and it’s incredibly common and accepted here, I’ve never considered myself graceful. I never had formal dance lessons as a kid unlike many of my friends, and while I did participate in church dramas as a kid and learn some sign language, I just never saw myself as a dancer. But, God is shifting my paradigm of who I am in ministry, and it’s been prophesied over me various times in the past couple months (and had been prophesied over me in the past also) that the area in which God is going to use me for delivering and ministering to others is largely in worship. So, this book was great for expanding my thinking of the purposes and prophetic impact of dance as well as the Biblical basis for using dance in worship.

Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers – This book is amazing. My friend, Beth, insisted that I read it (even buying me a copy), and it was well worth it. It had been a long time since I’d read a book of fiction. The whole premise of the book is a reinterpretation of the story of Hosea and Gomer. Though it’s difficult for me to put into words, God greatly used this book to expose me to a new depth of His love and to continue molding the orphan spirit out of my heart and thinking. It does a great job of putting into words how we can be such paradoxes of desperately needing love but so quickly rejecting real love out of fear. It gave me hope for healing for myself and others.

School of the Prophets by Kris Vallotton – I’m currently reading this book, and it’s been a great pairing with what I’ve been learning even just from the beginning of this year starting with the course I took on the prophetic in Tsebaoth Ministry. I’m learning more from Pastor Edgar in Ojojona, and I’m exciting to see what God is able to do in and through my ministry as a result of increased understanding.

Digging the Wells of Revival by Lou Engle – I will likely finish this book today, and I’ve never read anything like it. I had never heard of Lou Engle until I had the opportunity to hear him speak in a conference last year. His stories are crazy, and his life and ministry really are a testimony to the new level God is calling us to. This book, like The World’s Greatest Revivals, is greatly widening my vision and my understanding of what God wants to do. The way that Lou Engle not only values spiritual history but capitalizes on it for the expansion of God’s strategies is inspiring and mentality-changing. So often, we see the new generation want to reject the revivals and movements of the older generations. And, the older generations often want to build an altar or monument to the old movements and camp out there without ever believing that God has new movement planned. The scorn between generations is such a tactic of the enemy to limit our fruitfulness, but if we would learn to both honor the generations before us and their movements while challenging them to go deeper, be more radical, and move forward with God’s renewed creativity, we’d see new harvests unimagined. In the Kingdom, there is a law of multiplication in place. In ministry, Jesus said we’d do greater things than He did. For me, that means that I don’t ever want to be in competition with my spiritual children. Hands-down, I absolutely want them to do greater things than me. I want my ceiling to be their floor, their launch pad, into the next great movement of God.


Update on Our Story

For those of you who have kept up with the characters in my little life story, here is an update on how everyone is doing. It’s been an adventure, and while I know that God is ushering me into a new and different season in ministry, I also know that His promises and redemption stand true for the ages even if I haven’t seen them manifest yet.

Josuan has been in Ojojona living with the pastors in their House of Faith for four months now. It hasn’t been easy for him, but I am grateful to see with spiritual eyes how God is preparing him for his future. I had become a crutch for my son, so the distance between us (though I still see him often) is creating a greater dependency on God for him and is teaching me how to improve this area for future spiritual children.

Marvin has been living with his family since April. He works and says he goes to church, but he’s also lapsed into various old lifestyle habits. That is sad, but it’s also not surprising. He’s needed to suffer to recognize his need to make some stern choices. Is he ready to serve Jesus whole-heartedly and without putting his own conditions or not? Does he recognize that he can’t do it on his own or not? He says he wants to go to Ojojona, but I am not convinced that he has fully decided. So, we’ll see what happens.

Jonathan is still in Teen Challenge, and we’re in the midst of clearing up some legal situations he has pending in order to be able to send him to Ojojona with Josuan and the pastors.

I don’t have a lot of communication with Estefanny. That has mainly been because she has stayed at the church where I had been attending mainly for the kids. While God shifted me to Ojojona, where there is a shared vision and a church equipped and focused on dealing with street kids, she stayed in the other church to continue to be a part of the dance ministry. I worry about her at times because of attitudes I see in her and actions that really require discipline, but I’m not in a place of authority over her, and she hasn’t shown much interest in continuing to keep close to me or even to her brother. But, she is young, and I know that she does have a personal relationship with God. He’s holding her in His hands.

Erick (and Cristian, who I had been told was murdered) is in the boys’ juvenile delinquent center. I don’t know how long their sentences are, but Erick’s sentence is expected to be a minimum of two years, maximum of nine (consequences of disobedience and rebellion even before he left Teen Challenge to live with his mom).

Elvis went to live with his family, and I haven’t heard from him since. Jorge, however, continues in the orphanage and is doing well. He has a personal relationship with God and is disciple by the pastor of the orphanage.

Joel and Bladimir live on the streets, constantly doing drugs. And, we’ve never heard anything else from or about Jesús since he left.

God had said that I would only be left with a remnant from this season, and that is exactly how it has evolved. But, even though the short-term outcome is heartbreaking in many cases, I am so grateful for this season because I’ve learned so much. I recognize that this time has really been a preparation for greater long-term fruit. And, who am I to despise small beginnings (Zechariah 4:10)? One thing is for certain—I never again want to let ministry take the place of personal intimacy with God. It’s an ongoing temptation without a doubt. But, fruit flows from that intimacy. Rest and resources and strength all come from His presence. It’s all about ministering to His person before any others.

Perhaps my greatest fruit from this season has been Raúl. I stumbled into fighting for Raúl. He was in the middle of a season of discouragement and avoiding healing from deeply inflicted wounds. He never stopped loving God, but he completely lost sight of how much God loves him. I was just looking for something to do in terms of taking care of him, cooking for him, or whatever. But that soon evolved into a personal mission to fight for him—his calling, his ministry, and for him to see his own value to Jesus—because I didn’t see anyone else fighting for him, reaching out to him with love or hope, or calling him back to the arms of the Father. It was a long-suffering labor of love in the midst of indifference to win the battle against pain, but the reward has been priceless. Words cannot express God’s faithfulness or how I’m overwhelmed with a sense of victory when I see Raúl worshiping God in total abandon. I longed for so long to see his heart healed, his spirit free, and his burdens lifted. When I started fighting for him just as I have fought for my kids, I never expected that mission to have such a personal result. I didn’t expect that in seeing him restored and reconciled with God that I’d also be encountering the man who has the call complementary to my own. I didn’t expect that making the choice to love him unconditionally even in the midst of the pain that it caused me would eventually lead me to falling in love with him. Though I was obedient to God’s leading, many times, I couldn’t see the framework that God was laying for our relationship. Now, of course, I’m unspeakably grateful that I obeyed even when I didn’t want to, and my faithfulness in the midst of his indifference was God’s reward to Raúl, because after being with someone who betrayed him terribly through cheating and mistreatment, he’s never been so secure in the fidelity of a godly woman. And, his gratefulness shows in his treatment of me. We’ve been together for over a year now, and while we’re always going to be in the process of maturity, I am so blessed to see numerous breakthroughs that God has given us over the past year. I am thrilled to know that in the midst of so many trials (mainly with ministry and my kids) that “normal” couples don’t face, we’ve weathered the storms together with Jesus as our guide. It’s a promising start to whatever more God has in mind for the future.


A Visit
My story is expanding with new characters as I become more involved with the ministry in Ojojona. And, it’s a wonderful feeling to be developing a new support system. Next month, my mom and my sister will be coming down to do a project of expanding housing for future street kids where Pastor Edgar lives. I am excited for them to meet my new friends (and old ones that they haven’t met), and my mom is thrilled to finally get to meet her remaining grandchildren.


Blessed
To end this update, I just want to express my gratitude towards God. The past couple of months, I have been astounded by His provision and His faithfulness. After giving away my little car at God’s leading, and still being in the process of saving to buy another vehicle, within days, God provided me with transportation when Raúl unexpectedly bought a car in a deal with someone who owed him money just so that I’d have something to drive around because he didn’t want me riding on the bus. (I think he loves me…and I think he’s a keeper.) And, I’ve been amazed by the provision that has poured in from unexpected places even as I have been extending finances to others in need at God’s leading. I am blessed by God’s abundance as He cares for me, His daughter. And, I pray that He extends overflowing blessing to all of those people who have honored me with their prayers, their finances, their e-mails, their communication, etc. Honor is essentially believing in someone else, and I feel so privileged by the way that you all have believed in me—or rather Christ in me. He is so worthy. From season to season, from glory to glory, He never stops being worthy of it all.

All my love,
Sarah


PS Here are some pictures from this year. I am awful at taking pictures, but these are some of what I have on file.



Graduating from Tsebaoth's prophetic course in January

Raúl and I at graduation

 

The congregation in Ojojona that used to meet under a makeshift structure of wood and plastic

The construction team in Ojojona when they started building the new structure for the church

The new church structure in progress. Though not pictured, it now has half of the roof. It still lacks the rest of the roof, the walls, and the floor.

Pastor Edgar, Pastor Daniela, and their son, Daniel. They have a newborn son also, Edgar.



Raúl's birthday in May



Camping with my family in June



Xiomara, one of the young people who lives with the pastors



Christian, a boy who lives with the pastors

Joseth, lives with the pastors



Alex, lives with the pastors



Luis, lives with the pastors

Eduard, also lives with the pastors



The cabin my mom and sister will be helping to build onto for more housing for street kids

New Birth for Old Remnants

Hello All,

The word that God gave me for this year was “presence,” and while we’re headed only into the month of May this year, I am astounded by how He is revitalizing me and my vision of the future with His presence. Really, this journey of going deeper into His presence and His person started with stumbling upon that conference in Ojojona in January. Only days earlier, on New Year’s, my dad had sent me a text message that I saved to my phone because he touched so clearly on a heart’s desire: “Happy New Year! I love you Sarah. I’m praying that you are strengthened, encouraged, and that the Lord ties you into a source of help and real fellowship in Him.” It’s been quite a journey since I moved here. I came with the idea that I’d be doing certain jobs and be part of family (at the Eagle’s Nest girls’ home), but that idea was quickly shot down only within months of moving here when the Eagle’s Nest closed. Since then, it’s been a lonely trek of finding my way, my niche, and my divine calling in this country, and more often than not, it’s not what others around me would push me into to (nor what I’d push myself into either necessarily).

Just being real with you for a moment, I want to ask: Have you ever felt like an orphan? I don’t really mean in the sense of not having biological parents. I mean as a follower of Jesus. Have you ever felt like maybe you’re in church but you don’t feel like you belong? You love Jesus with all your heart, but this institutional program thing just leaves you hungry for something else, something more? You’re in a ministry, but you’re the black sheep that no one “gets”? You’re looking at the spiritual horizon and see things that the people around you don’t see, and you think, “Is this just me? What’s wrong with me? How can no one else see this?” I want to be careful to honor all of the churches and pastors and spiritual fathers who have played a wonderful part in my process as a lover of my Savior. And I’ve hesitated to write about this although it’s been a forceful undercurrent in my life since I was very young because I want to be an instrument of honor and unity and not of division or blame. I am grateful for every person who has spoken into my life and every place of worship and season God has brought me to and through, so I in no way want to criticize. But, I know that I can’t be the only one who has felt like there’s got to be more.

For those of you who may not know me personally, I was raised in church all of my life. My family was the family who was there every time the doors were open, and my parents always held a position of leadership as elders or youth pastors or children’s church pastors or part of the children’s ministry team. I grew up as part of that legacy and learned to do what anyone in church leadership asked me to do regardless of my age. From that willingness (and religious though unconscious desire to earn God’s love—as if it’s not a free gift to receive!), I found myself writing an entire Vacation Bible School curriculum of skits and puppet ministry and directing adults two or three times my age in dramas when I was 11. I took on the position of youth pastor in a church with my mom as my only constant support system with a group of mainly teenage boys when I was 15 because supposedly there was no one else. And through lots of experiences like that, I kept God very much at an arm’s length trying to earn His love because in my heart I felt very unworthy of His love and had many childhood wounds that hadn’t healed because I had tried to forget them rather than let God deal with them.

When I was a junior in high school, I had this idea of what my life was going to look like, and when that naïve vision shattered through a series of revelations, I felt lost. I was always the girl with the plan. But that shake-up of my world and my mission of perfectionism brought me face-to-face with my Heavenly Father as He asked me, “Are you ready to really let me have your life? Are you ready to let me lead you on an adventure?” And, I was. Even after being raised in a home that supported missionaries often with great financial sacrifice and a father who urged me constantly to go on a mission trip, I hadn’t been interested. But, after hearing a message from a total stranger in a camp where I wasn’t a camper but just a camp worker for a summer job, I encountered the reality of how many people didn’t know Jesus, how many people didn’t have clean water, how many people struggled just to stay alive and find food to eat, and how many needed to know that perfect love. It wasn’t a tearful or dramatic call. It was simply a decision to let God fully have me and a knowing that I was about to become a person so far from my original limitations at 17. Months later, I took a short-term mission trip to Honduras, and the rest is history in the making.

Loneliness has been a theme in my life for as long as I can remember. It’s been a force that has made me draw so much closer to God and has pushed me to be brave in the face of timidity even since childhood. It’s given me a maturity I wouldn’t have reached in any other way. My parents raised me even as early as kindergarten to purposefully seek out the outcasts to be their friend even if no one else would. They taught me to defend the defenseless. And, for whatever reason, since 5-years-old, that was so ingrained in my mind that it became my personal mission even when it made me an outcast too. As I grew up, I felt very different, very solitary for as long as I can remember. It might have been because I was homeschooled when others weren’t. It might have been because I was a passionate Christian in the midst of normal teenage angst. And, while that feeling different shouldn’t have been so prevalent even in church, it was. At 12-years-old, while my peers were talking about boys and clothes, I was reading Tommy Tenney’s The Godchasers and was consumed with wanting more of God’s presence. This longing was aided by being in a church where a real outbreak of a Holy Spirit revival was present—miracles, unity, hours and hours of non-stop worship, prophetic words, and just a genuine feeling of being at home in His presence.

When my family had to leave that church because of my dad’s job change and a move, it really devastated us. I don’t think we’ve ever been the same since as individuals nor as a family. We had been so wrecked in God’s presence that the idea of “normal” church just didn’t satisfy anymore no matter how much we tried to pretend. We were still in church, but we all just kind of lost ourselves because we felt like we’d lost His presence. We had never learned that we could be a catalyst of that same presence in our home and community. But from that move, our family became the black sheep of church. We had tasted more of the Holy Spirit, and everywhere we went, we challenged for more and were met with staunch (though understandable) opposition from well-meaning folks who simply hadn’t been wrecked as we had. They didn’t know what they were missing, and the idea that something more could exist was a paradigm challenge difficult to handle.

After I got back from Honduras, I was a mess of questions. I got back to the US on a Sunday and from that Sunday in church, for four years, every time I entered any church service, all I could do was cry. I couldn’t even explain why I was crying. I was just overwhelmed every time I was in church. A close family friend and the pastor of the church where my family and I had met the reality of God’s person once told me, “Do you know why you cry every time you’re in church? The Holy Spirit is letting you feel the grief that He feels in not being welcomed even in His own house.” The questions I wrestled with when I got back were also difficult to handle. I couldn’t understand how the prosperity gospel I often heard in churches in the US could possibly apply to the Third World country I’d just visited. Something was skewed in our thinking. Something was wrong in our interpretation of God’s love, ministry, and favor. Why did we seem to think that we should be exempt from suffering when I’d just witnessed so many Christians in Honduras suffering with a smile and triumph in their hearts? What was I supposed to do with the stories I heard of Honduran teenagers who were murdered by their own friends whenever they decided to leave their gang to become a follower of Christ? How did that fit in the cookie cutter spirituality I witnessed every Sunday morning? What was I supposed to do with the reality of martyrdom when the most suffering a Christian close to me would go through for their faith would be being subjected to an elected government that didn’t agree with their political agenda?

 I spent a lot of those four years outside of church because I just couldn’t handle the way my reality was shifting in the midst of things I saw to be nothing more than a routine façade. And, I have to tell you, that being out of church was so necessary for me. I needed that time to get to know God on a real, personal level beyond being spoon-fed. I needed that chance to ask Him all of my questions and realize that He’s not daunted by my doubt or uncertainty. He’s not frightened by my challenges because He is the answer even when religious depictions of Him don’t live up to His rightful personality and standard. And, in the midst of longing to know Him more, He also brought me to a place of facing the wounds I’d stealthily avoided letting Him deal with while I was in church. Perfectionism and earning man’s approval in church had been the Band-Aid that I’d slapped on a broken bone of not knowing how to really receive His perfect love. Without that placebo effect in church, I was left with only myself. Who was I without that system of earning religious points? What did it really mean to be a child of God? He found me and healed me so much more deeply than I had ever even realized was necessary.

At 13, when my family had moved for my dad’s job, I was in one of the darkest places of loneliness I’d encountered yet, and I had no other refuge other than my family and God. I had no friends. Being an “import” to a town where everyone is normally “born and raised” made it so difficult to break into the social structure and make friends—even worse for someone so shy. But, in that time, I just passionately fell in love with reading God’s Word with the Holy Spirit at my side. And, the verse the Holy Spirit gave me over and over and over again was Isaiah 58, especially the part about rebuilding ruined cities. I didn’t know it then but that was part of the call God had placed over my life. Years later, when I spent a summer in Honduras, a woman (who I later learned to be Raúl’s spiritual mom) gave me a word referencing Isaiah 58 and telling me that I was going to be a rebuilder for many young people who were currently desolate ruins.

When I decided to respond to the call of being a missionary in Honduras, I had no idea what that was going to look like. I didn’t go to missions school or seminary. I knew that my connection was Alvin Anderson and Manos Extendidas, and I had felt so captivated by their heart for street kids, for seeking treasure in forgotten people, and so at home in their ministry family. So, I decided to come, thinking that I’d be a teacher here and trying to figure out what my formal place was. I was up for whatever Alvin wanted me to do although God kept telling a very dumbfounded me, “Your call is not dependent on Alvin or Manos Extendidas. Even if at some point you’re not connected to them, you’re still called to Honduras.” But, in the last months of my senior year of college, I went home unexpectedly for a weekend and stumbled upon a documentary on Netflix about a woman I’d never heard of—Heidi Baker. Seeing her life as Mama Heidi amongst rescued street kids in Mozambique and hearing her wild story of passionate love for her Savior, tears just streamed down my face, and I watched it over and over and over again because I found myself—everything I’d ever wanted to dream or hope was possible after a childhood of supernatural missionary stories to a church encounter with the presence of God to developing a passion for missions in Honduras—in her story. Her testimony instantly made me a very different kind of missionary even if I didn’t realize it at first. No one had ever taught me that fruit in ministry comes from intimacy with the Holy Spirit, and most of the time, the examples I had were the contrary of missionaries running around like busy, crazy people with their personal spiritual lives as an afterthought because “that’s just ministry.”

In the past three years and seven months of being a missionary, the theme of being a black sheep has continued. It drives me crazy. Anyone who knows me well knows that I don’t like to make waves. I hate calling attention to myself. I am a very submissive person who likes to sacrifice my own preferences for those of others. But, God so captivated my heart that I cannot budge when I know He’s the one making me stand. I have to be honest with you that there is a cycle in church and ministry of wanting results and having something to show for our work that we often carry yokes that do not belong to us. When we’re overburdened and carrying weight not assigned to us, that often makes it much more tempting to shove other people into positions where they don’t belong and are not called by God simply because we’re cracking under the exhaustion and that person is another warm body who can do something to alleviate our stress. This was a hard lesson that God taught me at 15, and it has kept me from being so quick to do whatever someone tells me to do in ministry. I always say that I have to pray about it first, and a lot of times, my answer is no. It’s a policy that hasn’t made me popular to say the least. But, it so necessary that we guard our hearts in ministry. There is so much church hurt all over the world because when people are not treated with love for who they are and who God has called them to be but for what they do and what results they bring, they start to feel used. It’s religion versus relationship. Relationship loves others unconditionally for who they are whether they do something productive or not. Religion is conditional love based on the actions and results of others. It sends the message that you’re only valuable if you give forth results. That’s a dangerous message to send when we’re wearing a badge of Christ’s name and supposedly representing God’s nature.

I give you this lengthy history partially because it’s letting me process but also because I know that I’m not alone in this battle. Even though I’ve been hesitant to cover this area of my life, this is me, guys. And, this history gives you a glimpse into the reason my father sent me that text desiring real fellowship for me. When I was in Tsebaoth’s School of Prophets in January, they were talking in a class about spiritual paternity and how that relates to our relationship with biological parents. My relationship with my biological parents is great, so I felt like the ministry time of forgiving biological parents and letting God heal those wounds didn’t really apply to me. But, in an instant, God had my number. He said, “What about spiritual parents?” And He took me on a journey through a series of visions in my mind where I was in each and every church I’d been a member of but had been rejected for being so different. Each time, I was an orphan girl outside of the locked church just longing for a home, for spiritual parents to see my value as a person and not for what I could do for them. But, there I was alone and cold and rejected. And, each time, at each location, Jesus came and scooped me up in His arms and let me cry on His shoulder. He never left me an orphan even when no one else saw any value in me. And, after being rescued from each location by Jesus, He whispered in my ear, “Little one, they didn’t even know their own value. How were they ever going to see yours?” Even in the midst of great hurt in church, because of my parents and my upbringing, I’ve always done the best that I can to forgive. But, in that moment, I let God lead me through each situation with each spiritual father or mother and declare, “I forgive them. I honor them. And I bless their ministry.” And, I truly honor each one because each one, though imperfect, has had an impact on my process and who I am today. Each one taught me something, and each one is so greatly loved by God and so highly called by God that it’s only appropriate that I love and honor them as well.

I had no idea what this year was going to hold. Honestly, since I’ve moved here, a lot of the time, I’ve just been holding my head above water, doing my best to stand even when I feel so alone. Over the last three years, I’ve received countless words (a lot of times from complete strangers) about how even when I’ve had to stand my ground that I’ve never stood alone because God has always backed me. It’s been hard to know that’s there’s more that God has to offer of His presence and to push and challenge those around me to reach out for more when a lot of time, they’re only interested in the status quo, the routine, the man-made and man-pleasing program.  But this is a prophetic call—to see beyond a desolate city to a treasure that will be discovered and can be rebuilt. How do we get the sweetness of orange juice? It’s only through the pressure of squeezing the fruit. If the orange were a person, I’m sure it’d hurt. I’m sure it’d balk at the challenge and pain, but without that force, there is no sweetness.

All last year and the beginning of this year, God pruned me to the most painful point I could’ve imagined. But, I am so thrilled to say that we’re starting to bloom again. The sweetness of the orange after all of that pressure is starting to spring forth. I couldn’t be more excited. New things are coming. It’s a new season. God told me last year back in August through a young lady at the Go Conference in Nashville, “When you’ve been standing alone, He was always with you. God is honoring you, His daughter, for every time you forgave. May you even now get a very clear grasp of your value, that you would not struggle with knowing your value. He’s beginning a new season for you. This is not a season of more pain but of abundance, favor, and His face shining on you. You’re going to find people in your life who love you as well as you love others. God examines the depths of your heart and finds an obedient daughter. He is healing those wounds inflicted by those who misrepresented His love.” I can’t tell you how many times between September and now that I reminded God (often in frustration), “You said you were bringing me to a new season where the pain stops. You said You’d bring people to my life to love me well. So? When??”

I had no idea the blessing God was bringing to me whenever I stumbled upon that conference in Ojojona. The pastor, Edgar, and his wife, Daniela, are my age, but I have never encountered people who honor or love me so well. I see in them everything I’ve believed is possible for Honduras but hadn’t seen yet. They truly live by faith in all provision, and they have countless, supernatural miracles to show for it. They live for God’s presence and are committed to doing missions in and through the Holy Spirit only. They are radical, obedient lovers of Jesus and lovers of forgotten people, and because of that, we are such kindred spirits. They were a refuge for me when Josuan went back to the streets, and I am so happy to say that they are now that refuge for Josuan.

Josuan spent about two and a half months between the streets and a center with loose rules. He’d leave the center, go get high, steal, get beat up, and come back to the center. They’d take him in, help him, and get him set  up in high school again only to have him leave again days later. All during those two months, I was battling the spirit of death that was after him. I have come to learn that when I have dreams that something is chasing me, it’s because it’s chasing my children because that’s how the enemy gets to me is through harming my children. I kept having dreams that a spirit of death was after me, trying to kill me. I’d already seen the demon of death over Josuan before he left my house, and Pastor Edgar had told him in that conference that there were demons of death surrounding him but that God was his refuge. A few times during that two months, I got reports that Josuan was dead. At one point, I spent two afternoons looking for him—one in the morgue looking for his dead body because he was rumored dead and the other in the hospital looking for him amongst the unidentified patients. As it turns out, he was nearly killed by gang members when they asked him if he’d like to work for them. When he said no, they beat him up and left him unconscious in the market. He spent two days hospitalized. All during that time, God was at work in his heart. I kept offering him the option of going to Ojojona, but he kept refusing. I finally reached a place of peace where I wasn’t worrying about him, really had him placed in God’s hands, and was even prepared for the worst even as I pleaded for the best. Then, one day, around three weeks ago, out of nowhere, the center called me and said, “Please come get your son. He’s tired of the life he’s leading, and he wants to start over in Ojojona.” I picked him up that same day and took him home with me. He spent two days at home with me before I took him to the pastor in Ojojona. I was very cautious at first, but it soon became evident that he was, in fact, my real, very repentant son. And, he is doing to very well in Ojojona. He just got back from a retreat where God gave him a vision. Josuan had spent his 18^th birthday in February in prison because he was taken in for being accused of assaulting and robbing people on a bus. In the vision, he was face-to-face with God in the midst of a great party of worship, and God told him, “This is the birthday party I’m giving you.” When he came out of the vision, someone handed him a piece of cake. This is stuff that only God can do…bring the prodigal sons home.

A month before Josuan wanted to go to Ojojona, during an evening alone with God, I asked Him why I felt like such an orphan, why rejection in church and ministry seemed to be so ongoing in my life, why I was losing fruit in Josuan, etc., and God said so clearly, “You’re fighting a spirit of abortion in ministry. Look up the stories. You are a redemption baby. You were called to be revolutionary.” So, first, He led me to Samuel, then Solomon, then Moses, then Jesus, then John the Baptist, then Joseph, then Jacob and Esau, and even to Heidi Baker who was born after her mother fought with sterility. He made it clear to me that every time someone was fighting with sterility or there was a decree by government to kill babies or there was a baby that died before a child was born that this was really a demon of abortion that was impeding that fruit for fear of a calling being fulfilled. But, the sons and daughters born as a fruit of that faith and obedience struggle are revolutionary.

My mom has always been very open with all of us kids that when she was 16, before knowing Jesus, she got pregnant and had an abortion. It’s been part of my mom’s life work to speak out against abortion because she knows personally the pain it causes and the difficult process of healing afterwards, and she’s always compassionately reached out to pregnant women in crisis pregnancy centers or women who are scared to be single moms without being judgmental or hateful. I was her first child born after that abortion, years later after she had met Jesus and gotten married. I’m the redemption baby. And, if Biblical history teaches me anything, it’s that that means that I’ve got a revolutionary call, but because of that call, Satan’s going to do everything he can to abort the fruit God has purposed for my life. I have struggled with fear; with feeling like I couldn’t do ministry on my own; worried about being a single, adoptive mother, etc. which all sounds like similar reasons to why a pregnant woman would convince herself to have an abortion. And, for the past six months, I’ve been having dreams about being pregnant and having a baby (pregnancy in prophetic dreams is representative of ministry) all alone, with no one to help me, and frustrated by that lack of help. So, God started dealing with that fear and really ask me, “What would you do in ministry or in life if you weren’t afraid?”

Only a few days before Josuan called me, I was in a home worship service Nelly was having. She had me as one of the people leading worship with a group of people from various churches and ministries. While I love to sing, I don’t have a very strong voice. I’ve only led worship once, and while God will give me spontaneous songs at home or even on my own in church services, I’d never sung a spontaneous worship song in front of other people before. But, during that home group, God started giving me a song (in Spanish). I was so afraid to sing it. I didn’t feel qualified. Fear of failure or fear of what the people there would think. But, God gave me my moment, so through tears, I sang it out until I felt released to stop…
I reject abortion. I reject abortion. I’m not an orphan. I’m Your daughter. I reject abortion. I reject abortion. I will give birth to what You placed in me. I reject abortion. I reject abortion. The victory is mine. I reject abortion. I reject abortion. I will give forth fruit because I’m Your daughter. I reject abortion…
The day that I left Josuan in Ojojona, I was driving the hour back home, and God said to me so clearly, “If you would not have sung that spontaneous song I gave you even though you were afraid, Josuan would still be on the streets. That is the impact your small obedience can have.” That revelation blew me away.

God has been faithful to preserve my remnant with Josuan, but there has been more loss. Elvis left the orphanage after two attempts to escape and much rebellious behavior to live with his aunt. He called me the other day, but he lives hours and hours away from me on the border with Nicaragua. He concerns me because he will be raising himself at 15, is accustomed to street kid life, and is surrounded by drugs and drug traffickers where he lives. Apart from Elvis, Marvin is no longer with me.

When Josuan left, Marvin and I pulled together for a period of time, comforting each other. But, I knew that wasn’t going to last too long. Lying has always been a major battle with Marvin, but new and more lies were popping up all the time. He had started smoking and being very rebellious with Raúl at work. So, I sent him for a week to Ojojona (before Josuan was there) to give him a chance to reflect on what he wanted because he was ready to go back to the streets. He spent most of that week in behavior that was so far beyond acceptable that it really brought me to a breaking point where I confronted him and said, “Look, you need to decide what you want. You don’t want to continue in Bible school. You don’t want to work, and my house is not a hotel. This is a ministry. If you don’t want to have anything to do with Jesus, you don’t belong here. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. We don’t serve demons of lying or drugs or stealing. So, you decide. You live for Jesus, and you kick those demons out of your life. Or, you let them stay, and you leave with them.” That night, I prayed and said, “God, if this kid really does want to change and still has the will to do so, let me know. But if not, give me the strength to send him on his way.” The following morning, he got up, happily gave me a hug, said he was going to church, and then went directly to steal from Raúl’s business which he’d been doing for months. Raúl caught him, and I personally packed his bags. Now, he’s living with his family. He has shown up at church and at Teen Challenge, and we’ve talked and are on good terms. I didn’t leave him without an option. He knows fully that if he wants to avoid street life that he can return to Teen Challenge or can ask to go to Ojojona. But, he told me directly, “Mami, I’m not going to go to either of those places yet because I don’t even know what I want or who I want to live for.”

Jonathan had a drug relapse even while in Teen Challenge only two days before he was to complete his year. This was not surprising to me. (We have a saying in Honduras about how it takes people a while to show their claws…it’s true.) But, that resulted in the pastor not letting him have temporary leave or letting him leave permanently so quickly. God actually used this because the plan has been to send Jonathan to Ojojona, but with Jonathan not being allowed to leave yet, it’s giving Josuan time to get settled and firm beforehand.

So, it’s the end of an era. For the first time in two years, I’m alone. I still have kids, but they’re not directly under my care. I still love and pray for my kids, including each one that I’ve lost. But, it’s time for a new season. I cannot tell you what a relief it is for me to have Pastor Edgar discipling and disciplining Josuan. And Josuan is so thankful to be there because he’s learning new things about the Kingdom of God every day. He still wants to come home and be with me, but that’s not happening right now. After two years of single motherhood, I’m at rest.

And, as part of that rest, I’m headed home for a month from May 25-June 25. After four years of praying that God would radically call my brother to give his whole life to Jesus and send him to the mission field, he is answering that call and is headed to Mozambique, Africa because he was accepted to Heidi Baker’s Harvest Missions School. I am so excited (and jealous) for him! He heads out at the end of May for three months, and God has been unspeakably faithful to bring in the finances to send him. I couldn’t possibly be prouder of my baby brother or happier with God for answering my prayer. If any of you would like to be in touch or visit during that time, feel free to let me know via sarah.crickenberger@gmail.com .

In the mean time, I’ve been turning a new leaf by teaching English classes. (Raúl may learn after all!) I teach to three different groups—a group of various people from various ministries, the people from Alvin’s church, and the young people at Pastor Edgar’s ministry in Ojojona (including Josuan). It’s going well, and I think God is really using these classes for two purposes beyond just language learning: 1) It has started to change the way that people look at me. The people I’m teaching are all people I know from ministry. Some have known me since I’ve moved here, but they see me as quiet, timid, not very authoritative, etc. That’s primarily because it really takes time and effort to get to know me. I’ve done the absolute best I can to avoid positions or the spotlight. I’ve tried to minister as quietly as possible to forgotten people. But, that’s also meant that the people in my life of ministry often have no idea who I am or what I’m capable of because they’ve never spent quality time with me. Pastor Edgar actually told me, “You know, you seem so quiet and reserved. I’m surprised how easily you manage and direct your classes with authority and ease. You could probably preach. Have you ever preached before?” Ha ha. Uh, yeah…numerous times since I was 15. And 2) It’s building my self-confidence as a leader. I know, perhaps better than anyone except God, what I’m capable of. But, I also know that no one else really expects me to be a good leader because I’ve been in hiding…trying not to get hurt any more, trying not to make waves, trying to be obedient to God without drawing attention to myself. It makes leaving that cave to lead just a tad more difficult when I know that very few people have seen my potential and have me pigeon-holed as something that I’m not. But English class is helping.

This post is incredibly long (sorry about that…just needed to be real about some stuff…maybe it helps someone), so I’m going to finish up. But, I will say that in the midst of Family of Promise Ministries finally being legal (we’re still lacking some final steps we have to complete before February that cost $700 but are still officially legal) and in the midst of just lining up with Pastor Edgar and comparing visions and feeling like one is the puzzle piece that has been missing for the other, new, big things are coming! The majority of the people on my board of directors for the ministry have felt like orphans in ministry. We’ve kind have been wandering about  without direction, but in sending me to Ojojona and in meeting Pastor Edgar and Pastor Daniela, I feel like God opened a door I needed but wouldn’t have known how to find. I’m so excited for all that the future holds for me, my kids, my ministry, and my US family. God has so much more for us...let's go after it!

All of my love,
Sarah

An Identity Chronicle

Hello All,

I think oftentimes I’ve written about the story that is my Honduran family, but I’ve avoided writing about my story as a missionary. With my family getting ever smaller and with my truly having to cling to the promise of Isaiah 54, I’ve had to face myself in many ways. The loneliness, at times, is devastating, and I’ve been grappling with that question of identity all over again. For the past two years, I’ve been mami. I’m still mami, but I have so fewer people to fight for, so much less to throw myself at 100% in abandoned service that I feel as if I have to recalculate who I am. In short, I’m in a transition phase from 100% mami to 100% I don’t know what, and to be blunt, at times, I’m bored. Since moving here, I’ve been committed not to move in ministry or mission without God’s leading even if that means I have to wait for Him and feel useless, which is pretty much where I am right now. In losing Josuan, the child who first made me a mami, I’ve had to ask myself if losing Josuan has meant that I’ve lost that part of myself or if I’m mami simply because God made me mami. The real answer is, of course, the latter.


But, I think at the heart of this season that God had already prepared for me is finding the green beneath the deadwood. It’s getting past the pain of what’s been lost, choosing not to harden my heart (which would only bring spiritual death anyway), and to let God show me how to unearth what will actually grow.


It reminds me of a chapter from The Secret Garden:
“Will there be roses?” she whispered. “Can you tell? I thought perhaps they were all dead.”
“Eh! No! Not them–not all of ’em!” he answered. “Look here!” He stepped over to the nearest tree–an old, old one with gray lichen all over its bark, but upholding a curtain of tangled sprays and branches. He took a thick knife out of his Pocket and opened one of its blades.
“There’s lots o’ dead wood as ought to be cut out,” he said. “An’ there’s a lot o’ old wood, but it made some new last year. This here’s a new bit,” and he touched a shoot which looked brownish green instead of hard, dry gray. Mary touched it herself in an eager, reverent way.
“That one?” she said. “Is that one quite alive quite?” Dickon curved his wide smiling mouth.
“It’s as wick as you or me,” he said; and Mary remembered that Martha had told her that “wick” meant “alive" or “lively.”





I have four rose bushes that Raúl planted for me the last time I was in the States, but the ants here eat everything. So, two not only survived but are thriving and will soon bloom. But, two are so pathetic-looking, just dry and lifeless. There are days when I’d prefer to be deadwood, to cover myself over and not let my heart be vulnerable again. There have been days in the last three and a half years when I’ve told God, “I don’t want to love anyone any more. It hurts too much.” But, I always let Him have the last word.


Revealing the innocent green has come in small moments of hearing His voice, usually when I least expect it. I’ve been asking a lot of questions about who I am, and just as it was my senior year of college and first year here, I’m again grappling with that truth that I am not what I do.


When I first moved here (and I think this is really the case for any missionary), I was doing my absolute best to assimilate. That was the primary goal. And, for me, that also meant being willing to toss much of my US cultural customs to the wind. For a long time, it was easy for me to assimilate here because I could so quickly dismiss my country. I didn’t feel like I belonged in the US anyway even when I was there—too much materialism, too much convenience, too much competition, too much religion, too much ignorance about how the rest of the world lives, too much self-ambition. I didn’t want to be associated with any of that. And, frankly, the more articles I read about millennials, and the more I observe my own peers via social networking, the more I feel like this discontent is a generational reality. We want something real even if we have nowhere to turn to find it. So, my focus in my first year or so of living here was being like them—like Hondurans—as much as possible. I learned the language well. I picked up street vocabulary and gestures (that still make my family laugh). I learned how to cook Honduran food and take buses to my destinations. I went to urban areas and rural areas. I went to different churches and spent time with different families. I ate whatever was given to me—cow intestine soup, beef tongue, cow udder, chicken feet, and fish head. I washed my clothes by hand (still do). I bathed from a bucket with cold water. (I’ve upgraded now to heating water on the stove.) I rode in the back of pick-up trucks and learned how to drive in the chaos of motor bikes and cars where stoplights are often obeyed only when police are around, the speed limit is relative, and passing is fair game really anywhere. I didn’t buy imported food but learned to eat rice and beans for every meal every day when necessary. I learned to flow with Honduran time. In short, I did everything possible to smell like the sheep I hoped to have some part in shepherding to Jesus. But, I will never forget the realization, that try as I might, I would never fully be a catracha (what Hondurans call themselves). As much as my heart churned with frustration, the way that God made me (thanks possibly in part to my mother’s prayers for a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child) made it impossible to just blend in. In Honduras, though I hate calling attention to myself and would rather hide, there is no escaping me. And, I remember tearfully sending an e-mail to Alvin, struggling with being such a white girl and feeling like I just didn’t belong—not in the US, and not really here either. The majority of people here see me and think of money, a chance at a visa to go to the States, and someone to do their English homework. Many people assume that I’m judging their poverty or that I can’t speak Spanish. I’m the only white girl who lives in my neighborhood, which means that everyone knows me. I walk down the street, and people I’ve never seen before call out to me by name. And, one only has to reach my neighborhood and ask anyone where the gringa lives, and they’ll get to my house just asking around. For someone introverted, who had operated in such a longing to just assimilate and belong, the reality was hard to accept.


That, we could say, was phase one. Then I became mami, which brought its own criticisms and oppositions and questions about why my kids didn’t look like me and why I was so young. That was hard for both my kids and I to process. In the midst of so much rejection, I think as is natural whenever we are raising children (whether young and biological or older and adopted), I discovered a desire to share with them my childhood and my culture and who I was in the States. I think this is part of creating family. I took new foods to Teen Challenge, hoping to get my kids to try dishes from my home. I bought imported food items just so they could try them. I longed so much to continue the Christmas traditions that had been in place in my house with Raúl and my kids. I talked about my childhood. I talked to my kids in English, which sparked an interest in Josuan. I raised my kids hearing my dad’s words coming out of my mouth and using many of the same rules with which I was raised. I taught my kids how to save and manage money and be people of their word. And, in recognizing all the things that I’d had growing up with my family in the States, I think I valued some things about the States and began to re-evaluate my quick dismissal.


Culture shock really arrived late for me. I could deal with the slowness of Honduran time. I could eat the same dinner of beans, eggs, cheese, avocado, plantains, and tortillas night after night (and often still do). I could even deal with the general elevated level of danger and being robbed various times. But, what destroyed me and still makes my blood boil beneath my skin are things so much deeper—it’s the machismo and attitude towards women. It’s seeing women whose husbands openly cheat on them with their self-esteem in the dirt still faithfully ironing their husbands’ clothes and putting their dinners on the table and smiling at them knowing fully that after dinner they’re just going to go visit their mistresses then come home and give those devoted wives STDs. It’s been reversing my sons’ attitudes that it’s okay to cheat on girlfriends and boss me around or expect me to always be the one cooking and cleaning. It’s dealing day-in and day-out with people who are not ever true to their word, who make promises and never keep them, and even laws that are not enforced because the police are so easily bought and corrupted. (Is it any wonder than Hondurans don’t trust anyone?) It’s the lack of integrity. It’s the anarchy that ensues when a government is bought by the highest bidder in drug trafficking. It’s constantly being approached with an attitude (even often from Honduran friends) that I owe them something just because I’m a gringa or that if someone’s going to sacrifice in our relationship, it should be me. It’s the opening my heart over and over again only to be used, with the assumption that I’m just supposed to take it because I’m a missionary and that’s what I came here for. It’s everything that you would expect with a cycle of children raising children and adults who never mature. And, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about my adopted country—there are still lots of things we, from the US, could learn from Honduras. There are lots of things about the US that make my blood boil and brow furrow. But, I mention these things because they’re the very things that show us our need for grace and our need for a Savior and because they’re the reality that I live that is bringing me into a new phase.


Just last night, I was at Raúl’s mom’s house with the whole family. These are precious people I’ve been around for three and a half years, and I’m more than used to their tumultuous relationships and the loving yelling and the quirky personalities. Like many things, all of that was a novelty for me when I first moved here. Now, like many things, all of that is something I deal with. But, now that I’m in a relationship with Raúl, I wish that he could have the same experience with my family. But he doesn’t even speak English to be able to even call my family. I long to be known—not just as Honduran missionary Sarah but as toe-headed little girl Sarah and awkward homeschooled Sarah and overachiever student Sarah and proud-of-being-a-Crickenberger Sarah. I ache to have just one person have even a small grasp of what I left behind to maybe have more compassion on me. Just one person to make an effort to learn about my country, culture, language, and family as I have about Honduras. Just one person willing to sacrifice as much for me as I have for others. This is the human me talking. I am more than aware that Jesus made that all-important sacrifice. I am conscious that we take up our crosses, and we follow Jesus. I recognize that everything I do, I do for Him. I know that I’m not ever alone because He’s always with me. But, I also know that we are the Body of Christ for a reason. We weren’t created for isolation, and this is just me being real about what it means to be a missionary.


Raúl’s mom recruited me to help her make dinner (because I’m the girlfriend and clearly in this culture should be the one cooking), and I obediently started helping though I already knew how it was going to turn out because I know her. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the backward misfit in this culture or because she tends to see the worst in me, but I can’t do anything right—ever—which is particularly devastating for such a perfectionist who thrives on excellence. So much has to do with those tiny, unspoken cultural cues. It’s as simple as I’m respectful (according to my upbringing) and don’t like to invade anyone else’s kitchen or take control over someone else’s parade whereas her expectations were for me to read her mind and know exactly what I was supposed to do without her telling me. After two failures in her eyes over something so insignificant, I could feel the emotions climbing from the pit of my stomach towards my eyes, so I started breathing, calming myself down. Lucky for me, Raúl knows me enough to see when I’m reaching a breaking point, and he jumped in to save me, taking over the cooking before I could fail anymore (with his mother giving both of us side-eye). All of those thoughts and feelings from the previous paragraph were coursing through my brain, but I heard God say so clearly to me, “I like the way you cook.”
“Really, God, do You even eat? Are You like sneaking spirit bites whenever I’m cooking? How can You like the way I cook?”
“Because you cook with passion. I see the love and attention to detail and excellence that you put into cooking. I see your creativity when you’re making original recipes, and I made you that way. I like that you enjoy a gift I’ve given you when you cook. It’s a way of loving Me. I see that even when others don’t.” And the tears I’d been fighting so hard to hold back just dove from my eyes like liquid kindness overflowing from the fountain God was giving me.


And, this is the phase that I’m coming into—that I don’t want to assimilate to a Honduran culture, nor do I want to retreat to a US culture, nor do I want to be the missionary who is extremely busy because that’s what my examples are. I don’t want to worry about giving forth fruit or how much I fail or how much it seems I have failed with so many of my kids abandoning me. I just want to be His girl. I just want to bring Heaven to earth and let His Kingdom culture shine through me wherever I am. And part of the wick green that God’s peeling away to in my heart is that idea of enjoying who He made us to be and not being ashamed of who we are—white girl who sticks out like a sore thumb; single, too-young mother; una loca enamorada de Cristo included. I don’t want to be so assimilated that I turn a blind eye to a lack of maturity or enable the people around me to deny the excellence of honesty and maturity that God is calling them to. I want to be the example they’ve never seen before. I don’t want to be so comfortable with where I am or where I come from that I’m too lazy or ashamed to stand for His reign. I want who I am (not even necessarily what I do) to ALWAYS challenge those around me, to force them to see what’s possible. I think for the past few years I’ve been so focused on that element of sacrifice that I’ve forgotten how to delight in Him. It’s just been pain and suffering and nose to the grindstone determination to obey. What a novel idea—that enjoying and using my gifts, even something so simple as cooking, brings Him pleasure and joy. Being who I am, who He’s called me to be, without shame, without hiding, and without fear is a way of worshipping Him. That concept makes the idea of worship and spiritual warfare and ministry and living out the Christian life so much less of a burden and so much more of a natural, flowing rhythm of grace and identity.


I will eventually give you all an update on my kids and what’s going on, but for today, I wanted to put some thoughts, rolling like marbles in my head, a place to rest.


All my love,
Sarah

The Oil of Loss

Hello All,

If there was ever a time to ask for your prayers, it's now. I'm not even sure how to begin, and there's a great part of me that would rather hide than share a pain I can't even put into words. But, I recognize my desperate need for the support, prayers, and encouragement from my brothers and sisters in Christ.


As is usually the case in Honduras, things can go on undisturbed, positively boring in routine and normalcy until out of nowhere, within the snap of your fingers, the entire world has been turned upside down. I realize that I haven't written since January, so I'll try to give you some brief context. As I mentioned in a previous post, all last year God had me in a process of pruning, cutting the things, attitudes, aspects of my life that weren't ever going to give fruit. Usually, the image He gave me was of a tree burning. It has been painful to say the least. At the beginning of this year, I was really asking God for some direction and some understanding about the future and guidance for the next steps to take. But, He was so silent. The only input He did give me was the word "presence" and the guiding question of, "What would your life look like if seeking My presence was your absolute first priority?" So, that's what I set out to do--seek His presence in any way possible. This began unexpectedly with attending a conference with Raul at the peak of a phase of utter exhaustion...well, maybe I'm actually in the peak now. I don't know. At the conference, I was so tired that I told God I just wanted Him to kill me in His presence because I quite simply was not enough. I just wanted to lay myself on the altar and let Him consume me because I was so tired of myself and my limitations in the battles I was going through in life.


To be honest, since October, we had had battles with Josuan and drug relapses. It started when he went to his cousins' funerals (they were murdered) in his hometown. I didn't go with him, and I wasn't even aware that he had smoked pot there until the second relapse happened in November. He was working on a carpentry project, alone at the house. I had only left for about an hour, and his being alone and working was a totally normal part of our routine. But, when I came home, he was high on paint thinner. It was a moment of unplanned temptation where he fell. It was devastating, and we came so close to losing him back to the streets. (Details of that story at http://velvetashes.com/the-battle-of-rest/ ) But, at the end of the battle, he was repentant, so we began to pick up the pieces, find the root of his weaknesses, and do the work of restoring His relationship with God. He stopped working at home with carpentry, and I sent him to work with Raul at the tire shop. And, most of his independence was greatly limited for a period of time until little by little, he regained my trust. It wasn't long, however, until Raul was making comments that he looked like he got to work (just a ten minute walk from my house) high on marijuana. Because I couldn't always be there in the moment to see it for myself, I wasn't really sure if it was true or not. At the beginning of January, I went to visit the boys in the orphanage while Josuan went to his English class. He was set to come home and complete a ton of chores he had to do in the house, so it wasn't like he didn't have anything to do. But, when I got home, he wasn't home, and none of the chores were done. He came down the hill from my house at last, high on shoe glue. He denied it until the Holy Spirit made me see every detail--the smell from his breath, the string of glue on his shirt, and the dried toothpaste on his lips that he had taken with him up the hill to try to cover the smell. This was a breaking point because that toothpaste let me know clearly that this was no longer a fall but rather a deliberate return to his old lifestyle. And, that was a problem. I talked to him, and while he did finally admit to some of the truth, he didn't really see a problem with his actions. That, to me, was a terrible red flag, and I spent some time really asking God, "What do I do with this?" All of that happened the day before the conference.


I was at a loss. I was so exhausted from trying to protect him and also dealing with normal, everyday battles with Marvin's attitudes or struggles he was also having though not with drugs. I had next to no time alone to rest or reflect because I feared leaving Josuan by himself for fear he'd fall back into drugs. I had reached the end of myself. I was angry. I struggled with loving my kids. And, I had no joy. But, God did something at that conference. He did give me a small word in the morning, and my ungrateful reaction was, "Is that it?!" (I had to repent for that later.) It was an all-day conference that we had stumbled upon without really planning on being there all day. In the afternoon, Josuan and Estefanny, who were with me, wanted to go back to the city to go to church because they were tired and because she was scheduled to serve in the church. But, I hadn't received from God what I so desperately needed. Normally, I would have ignored my needs to fulfill my kids' obligations, but this time, I heard God so clearly ask me again, "What would your life look like if  your first priority was My presence?" So, we stayed because I wasn't going to leave without whatever God had for me. At the end of the service, Raul and I went up to give an offering together, and the visiting pastor prayed for us. We went back to the sidelines, and Raul began to talk about how strongly he felt God's presence whenever the pastor prayed...I had felt nothing. But, the pastor approached and told us, "When you do a prophetic act of faith, you allow God to release your lamb of sacrifice. Just as Abraham had his arm raised with the dagger to kill Isaac and God stopped him to give him the lamb of sacrifice, God is now able to release that lamb of sacrifice in your lives. What was impossible for you naturally, God is now able to do for you supernaturally in your life, your relationship, your ministry, and your finances." And, I could only cry when a wave of peace hit me, and I understood what God was saying. I was never going to be enough for the battle with Josuan, nor in many other battles I was going through. I was willing to place myself on the altar as the sacrifice to waste myself away in utter exhaustion for my children, but God released the lamb of sacrifice, Jesus, to be enough. That was the start of a release for me, an understanding that God didn't expect me to be able to protect Josuan from himself and to understand that my son had to start doing his part.


The following day, I was in church just worshiping God when out of nowhere I heard Him say so clearly, "At this point, if any of your children return to a lifestyle of the streets, it is not your fault. There is no blood on your hands. You have done everything possible." It scared me to hear that because it let me know that it was a possibility that I was going to lose someone, but it was also a great comfort to know that I had run the race and done my part. It's a word that I now cling to minute-by-minute.


During this time, Erick decided he was going to leave Teen Challenge at the end of his two mandated years there. His mom was completely against this idea as he could stay and still study in high school and because he had caused so many problems for her every time he was on leave. But, he refused to listen, and he left Teen Challenge. Within a week, he was smoking, not going to church, and living his life however he wanted. He still lives with his mom and works and studies, but he told her outright, "I haven't accepted Jesus in my heart. I don't want anything to do with that." After two years of fighting for this kid, you can imagine our devastation. This is the kid who almost died in a hospital after being attacked in a juvenile delinquent center, whose father was murdered, and whose brother was murdered (for being associated with bad stuff). Yet, he still wants to run from Jesus. I don't get it.


In the spirit of feeling released to seek God's presence and let Him take control of taking care of my kids, I went every night of a week-long worship service that a church here (Tsebaoth) was having. They have it every year, and I've gone every year for the past three years--and God always speaks to me there. I was so desperate to hear more from Him, and He did talk to me. He didn't give me the answers about the present I so wanted, but He did show me many, many things about the future and new doors and new ministry. During that week, Raul called me to tell me that Josuan had gotten to work an hour late and had arrived high on pot. I had no idea what to do because this was a very real problem, so I called Mario, a leader from Teen Challenge, who has been such a wise friend of our family and a great help to my kids. And, using the verse, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord," the same verse that God had given me in confronting Marvin about some issues we had had last year, he told me, "Sarah, you have got to put your limit. You tell him, 'The next time I catch you high, you leave my house.'" This was difficult for me to consider because I love Josuan and because I knew that he was in no way equipped to live on his own. Marvin, though still struggling with some areas, has matured to the point that he could live on his own and seek God and not return to the streets. But, Josuan was no where near close because he had grown so accustomed to depending on me, that I'd always be the person rescuing or keeping him from returning to the streets instead of taking responsibility for seeking God himself and making wise choices himself. That night in the worship service, one of the singers spoke for nearly half an hour about that very same verse, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." Though painful, I had my confirmation. So, I cornered Josuan the following day, and I told him that the next time I personally caught him high, he would have to leave. In other words, the next time he chose to get high, he would also be choosing to leave my house. He was quite angry about this and responded by blaming, manipulating, accusing Raul, and denying that he had been high at all--all reactions letting me know that Raul had been completely right.


One of the things God showed me during that week was that He was bringing a shifting from focusing on people to focusing on His presence. All this past year, the pruning I've been going through has been learning not to put my children as a higher priority than my relationship with God. My first ministry is to His Person. In a conversation we had, He told me, "Just like David had to leave his sheep to step into his destiny, you're going to experience a shift from pastor to prophet, from focusing on people to focusing on Me." So, I asked Him, "How much longer until the pruning stops?" That same night, when we had arrived (late, which I was frustrated about), we had to park in a location far from the church where there is a hill above. When we got out of the car, the entire hillside was on fire. This is relatively normal in Honduras as people set fires and they rapidly spread throughout the forests. But, we took a moment to look at this blazing hill towering above us, and I said to myself, "This means something." At the end of the service, just as I was asking God how much longer I would be pruned, we got to the car, and I had my answer. The hill that had previously been blazing was now mostly smoke and smoldering ash with only a few licks of flame left. I wouldn't be burning in purification for too much longer.


I so wanted more of God, so Nelly and I enrolled in Tsebaoth's School of Prophets even though it cost much more than I would ever want to spend on myself. To be honest with you, I've been struggling with lowered financial support since December and having to be careful in how I budget--and even so with car problems, Josuan's school supplies and fees, etc., have had to live off of some savings.


The School of Prophets was such an incredible blessing to me. Words can't describe how much I learned and how filled with God's presence I was during that very intense week of classes from 8:30 AM to 9 PM some nights. God showed me so many things (again, not about my present problems) and gave me confirmations and encouraged me greatly. It was a time of being strengthened that I had so desperately needed. And, most of the words I received there from God and from other people was that the time had come to stop being defensive against the enemy and to take offensive action. And, God laid it on my heart to have a meeting with my kids to pray over them, to take spiritual control over my house, and to establish worship in my house again. I learned what demons had been tormenting us, and I was ready to take a stand. So, on Sunday, February 1, we made it our first priority. I taught my kids about the demons that had been manipulating them and taught them how those spirits are given power in our lives--things I had learned from those classes. And, we had a time of worship where I prayed over them. I led them in renouncing those spirits that have worked so hard to cause destruction in their lives and our family. Marvin was very willing, but Josuan refused. I still prayed for him as God showed me a dark shadow descending over him, but it was a disappointing sign of what was to come.


God had also told me to sprinkle salt around my house as a prophetic act of sealing that territory as His (Judges 9:45...salt was also used in Bible times to supernaturally decontaminate water). So, after our meeting, I walked around my house, seven times as God told me to, praying and sprinkling salt. As soon as I walked outside my door, the smell of smoke hit me. The hill beside our house was on fire, and my house was filling with ashes. (I had just learned that ashes symbolize the past, mourning, and death within the Kingdom of God.) And, I thought to myself, "This is not a coincidence. This is retaliation." But, I put my house in God's hands. I left my house, and hours later, Josuan told me that the fire had reached our property and was coming ever-closer before the police finally came to put it out. It made me wonder what would have happened to my house if I hadn't obeyed. When I finally got home that night, there was not even smoke remaining. The burning had stopped.


On that Monday, I'd had Jonathan on leave and had to take him to the doctor. Josuan was also starting high school classes at the high school beside our house. He went and came back to the house with everything normal. Then he got ready to go to work and left. But, he came back to the house to go to the bathroom and left again. Not too long after, Raul called me to tell me that Josuan had arrived high on marijuana. I had told Josuan that the next time Raul called me, that I'd go and see for myself if it was true. I can tell you whole-heartedly that I didn't want to go. I drove down praying the entire way, "Please don't let it be true. Please." But, as soon as I saw those red eyes and started asking questions, it was so obviously true. He was livid and defensive, blaming me and everyone. And, before I even had the chance to tell him to leave, he was already volunteering. He left the business to get high on paint thinner. Then he went to the market to get high on shoe glue. I still had to leave Jonathan at the bus, and I didn't have time to let Josuan in to get his stuff. But, that night, he arrived at the house like nothing had happened. He came in, got himself some food, and acted like he hadn't done anything. I told him, "You have an hour to eat, get your stuff, and leave," but he replied, "I'm not leaving."


To make a long story short, he did stay that night, acting repentant, saying he knew he wasn't ready to live on his own, etc. To be honest, I didn't feel like he was truly repentant at all, but I told myself that I'd rather err on the side of mercy than on the side of judgment. So, he stayed after making me a list of all of the things he was going to do to pick himself up and to restore his relationship with God (like getting up early to pray and read the Bible, etc.). The following day he went to school, and I began to research just how many things he'd lied about. I went to Raul's business to retrieve his cell phone he'd left charging. He was on his last chance with me, and in my house, cell phones are privileges, not rights. When he found out I'd confiscated his cell phone, he had his excuse and decided to leave for good...which he did except that he left his things here. I knew he'd come back to try to manipulate his way back into the house, so I took Marvin and we got out of town for a few days to rest and so I could get a definitive word from God about how to handle Josuan. We went to the same place where Raul had taken us to the conference. The pastor offered to take Josuan in there since he works with young people and has a home for former drug addicts, so that was my option. God made it painfully clear that Josuan was the last thing being pruned from my life and that I was not allowed to be the one helping him this time because he had come to rely on me as a crutch instead of seeking God for himself. During the time we were out of town, Josuan brought one of his drug addict friends from the market to my house, where they got on my roof trying to get in, bathed with the water from our tanks, and slept on my porch. But, I returned to the city ready to face what I needed to.


Since returning, it has been an intense battle for Marvin and I. Just as I was for ten months, I've been struggling with stomach sickness, losing weight, battling nausea due to emotions, and having to force myself to eat. And, Josuan has lived in the rocks beside our house, bathing in my pila, and tormenting outside of my house every night while high. The first night, it was like hearing demons speak to me through my son--one minute he was crying and tapping my window and saying "mami" over and over, saying, "Mami, it's your son Josuan. I'm your son. Why don't you recognize me? Please, mami, don't let me get lost. Don't you love me?" It was heart-wrenching, and I can honestly say that had it not been for God adamantly saying no, I would've caved and brought him in. But, when I didn't respond and kept ignoring him, the voice changed, and it was angry and accusatory and threatening suicide. This went on all night. Marvin and I didn't sleep. The following day, I gave Josuan all of his stuff, and he had no further excuse to come to my house. Though sober, he cried at the top of his lungs that he'd lost everything and started cutting himself. I ignored him, and as soon as Raul got to my house, he flipped a switch like a little man and was proud and not crying. When I offered to take him to the pastor's home, he refused. That day, we went to Teen Challenge, and when I came home, he was high with all of his stuff in the rocks beside my house. I was beside myself with exhaustion. He had gone to the church high, and Estefanny was devastated and crying. And, Marvin and I were physically and emotionally spent. I talked to Alvin, and he counseled me to call the police if Josuan started bothering again with the mindset that it'd be better for him if he had somewhere to sleep and eat and maybe be sent to a center. So, Sunday night, he was outside Marvin's window, crying, cutting himself, saying nobody loved him, and threatening suicide. Marvin was beside himself, crying, and saying, "Mami, this hurts too much. I've never loved anyone like I love my brother, Josuan. Not even my own family. Why does this have to happen?" We've just been crying together. So, we called the police, and they took him away.


Yesterday, I went to the police station where they were holding him with the hope to be able to talk to him while he was sober. I was wrong as he had smoked pot that he'd hidden from the police even while in the jail. I presented his options of going to the pastor's to get help and be restored or that I was going to get him expelled from school (because I had signed to be responsible and he was going sometimes still but while high) and was going to put an order out that he legally couldn't come to my house. He said he was going to go to the pastor's house, but I felt in my spirit that it was a lie, that he was just using me to get out of jail. They were only going to hold him for 24 hours anyway, and they weren't going to send him to a center. He turns 18 tomorrow and will legally be an adult. So, I got him out. He no sooner got in the car before stating outright that he wasn't going to go. So, I told him to get out of the car, and he left, saying that it'd be better for everyone to assume he was dead. He arrived later at Raul's to pick up some stuff and was cursing me at every turn. Marvin and I got home last night, fearing his revenge. But, last night, we slept free from torment.


I don't think there are really any words for how I'm feeling right now. I have moments in the day when I just collapse in tears from so much pain, and there are moments in the day when I'm really battling anger and hatred because the betrayal is so great and the pain so searing. But, I choose over and over to forgive him and to focus on Jesus because I don't battle flesh and blood anyway. It's a struggle to be in this house and in this place where I have two years of memories with my son who I still love so dearly. Sometimes, I just want to abandon being a mom and just escape. Cleaning out his room was like a funeral. And, I'm not really sure which is more difficult--hearing demons speak through him to me every night outside my window or knowing that there is a spirit of death pursuing him and not knowing where he is or how he is. I've never known a pain like this, but I don't regret any of it. I don't regret loving my boy with all I had. I don't regret the hours spent together nor the stories shared. I don't regret the money spent or memories made. I don't regret the sacrifice of two years of my life because it was all for Jesus. Astoundingly, I have found myself in the midst of so much pain, looking up at a sunset or feeling a breeze and being overwhelmed by His beauty. He is still worthy. He doesn't ever stop being worthy even when I don't understand. And, I am captivated by something I heard Bill Johnson teach--that when we get to heaven, there won't be any pain, which means we have a unique opportunity to offer up to God here on earth offerings of praise in the midst of pain and suffering. It's a fragrance of worship that comes only from earth because there is no sorrow in heaven. I just want to lavish it all at His feet.


I still have hope for Josuan. I still love him, and I still intercede for him, asking God to have mercy for him. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if he'll return to Jesus or not. But, I believe in God's goodness. I declare that Jesus beat death, that Jesus still wins even when circumstances don't depict that. And, my kids and I are clinging to the truth that my son is a son birthed from a promise that God gave to me. Believe me that there are times that Satan attacks me with, "What's the name of your ministry? Family of Promise? Some family you have. They've all deserted you." But, I respond with the promise God granted me in Isaiah 54.


There are still a lot of answers I'm waiting on from God. There is a part of me that feels like this is the end of a chapter. The pruning is over, and that means new growth, new direction. But, I do still have Marvin and Jonathan, who I love dearly, and I want to love them well and ensure that they are given the greatest opportunity to succeed in their lives as sons of light. But, I also recognize now more than ever that none of this is about me. I can try to be the greatest mom on earth, but that doesn't guarantee a victory. It's all His work and His way. I've never wanted to seek His face more in my life than now. May we wash His feet with our tears, and may the pain of this loss be a fragrant oil to anoint His head.


Please pray for us. Pray for Josuan that God would break the chains of drug addiction in his life, that God would rescue him from a spirit of death, and that God would restore him as His son. Estefanny and Marvin need strength in their faith to keep moving forward and to let this be a wake-up call for them to take care of their relationship with Jesus. Raul has been faithful in being by my side. I don't know any other man who would've stayed through so many trials. I love him so much, and I have been so blessed to see him move into his destiny as a father. (He was the very first to buy food to take to Josuan in jail.) Please pray that God gives us strength to care for one another and let this difficulty bring us closer together as a family. And, I just need more of Him--His grace, His healing, His love that covers a multitude of sins, and His direction for the future.


Thanks so much for reading and for partaking of our story written by His grace.

All my love,
Sarah