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Guillermo Tepal (far right), ordained on July 28, 2009, was one of my first students to graduate and begin pastoring in 2004.  He has pastored two churches including his current assignment in Ciudad Mante, SLP.  He has a wife and two children.

Also ordained (left to right) were Israel Osuna, pastor and Northeast District Supt.  He finished his work through the Ciudad Valles extension.  Graciela Ramirez, wife of our National Supt. and director of the Puebla Bible School, graduated from the Bible School and from the Nazarene Seminary in the 1990′s.  She is also pastoring our campus church in Puebla.  And Alfredo Lara, pastor in Ciudad Valles, also finished his work through the extension.

Some things make me nervous, I’ll admit it.  But few things (or maybe nothing) can really scare me anymore.  Being truly scared, or staying that way, might imply a lack of faith in our God.  Still, there’s nothing like being nervous to test your faith. 

When the swine flu was first announced and Mexico was making world headlines, we found ourselves less than 100 miles away from the "epicenter" of the outbreak.  People were dying, and we were being told that humans had no immunity. Mexico took drastic measures closing schools and non-essential businesses nationwide.  Our city of Puebla seemed eerily like a ghost town as most were afraid to venture out.  Those who did wore surgical masks, a visible reminder that anyone could be contagious.  It seemed only a matter of time before we all got a potentially deadly case of the flu.

Yet, other than taking common sense precautions, there was nothing we could do!  No medicine, no vaccination, no chance of getting away from the disease.  All we could do was trust in our God, that He would watch over us and be with us, even if we got sick.  Were we nervous?  Of course.  Were we scared?  Not really. 

Just when it was looking like the swine flu was calming down and that it wasn’t quite as deadly as was feared, our world was rocked again. Literally!  On May 22 we found ourselves again at the epicenter, this time of a 5.7 magnitude earthquake.  I felt the kitchen table shake back and forth and it was like someone bumped hard into the back of my chair, only no one was there.   It was an eerie feeling, one I don’t really like (this wasn’t my first earthquake in Latin America).  Like the swine flu, this earthquake turned out to be relatively benign.  No damage was done, and Susie didn’t even feel it as she was walking across the living room.

But I can’t help thinking about these kinds of things: swine flu and earthquakes.  Our block house with poured cement floors, ceilings and roof would be an instant death trap in a serious earthquake.  The swine flu could easily have been as bad or worse than was feared.  We went through both totally unscathed, by God’s grace and mercy.  

One thing God has taught in our years as missionaries is that there is no better, safer or happier place to live in the whole world than in the center of His will.  It certainly doesn’t mean we’ll always be 100% trouble-free, or even free of swine flu and earthquakes.  No place is 100% safe anyway.  But I’d much rather die where God wants me than live outside His will.  The best thing we can do for ourselves and even for our children is live in total obedience to our God.

"If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."  Daniel 3:17-18 (italics added)

Last week (Jan. 27-31) I took a trip to our central district in the state of San Luis Potosi.  It’s about a 9 hour drive north from Puebla to an area called "La Huasteca", a tropical plain between the mountains and the Gulf of Mexico near Tampico.  I taught a 4-day super-intensive course on Theology II to some of the central district extension students in the city of Xilitla (pronounced hee-LEET-la).  And I also participated in the belated graduation ceremony for two of our Puebla students who finished last year (while were in the U.S.) and are now pastoring in this district.

I don’t have a lot of profound thoughts or reflections as a result of this trip, except to say that many of you must have been praying for the class to go well and for safety in travels.  God answered both prayers.  I had been dreading this trip and the class, not because of having to teach (I love the teaching!), but because this area of Mexico is typically hot and humid year round.  I don’t do well teaching in the heat for 7 hours a day! 

It was still at least 80 when I arrived there after dark on Tuesday night.  However, the next morning it was overcast and misty in Xilitla, which is up the mountainside maybe 1000 feet above the plain of the Huasteca.  The sun stayed hidden all that day while I taught, and the fog was even thicker in the evening.  Each of the four days of class was about the same: cloudy, misty, some rain and unusually cool.  We hardly got above 70-75, and I had to keep my jacket on most of the time.  Thus, I was able to keep up my energy and stamina for the long class days, and we got through all the material.  It was probably one of my best presentations of Theology II to date.

I’m not usually one to see a miracle or even answered prayer in good weather, nor do I see Satan’s hand in disagreable conditions (the Bible NEVER shows Satan in control of the weather, only God).  Weather is weather, and "it rains on the just as well as the unjust".  God would have helped me in any kind of weather.  However, I am extremely grateful for another unusually cool class week (this also happened to me last fall in Teotitlan).  I paid a small price for it because my host didn’t have a hot water heater for morning shower/baths!  But I do believe God was answering prayers (yours and mine) for this class to go well.

Thanks for praying!

What a privilege it was to return to Oaxaca this week (Jan. 4-6) and speak at their Youth Camp about the call to ministry.  Camp was held at San Pedro Ixcatlan, an area even further southeast than I’d been before in Mexico.  It was a nine-hour drive, seven of which was through the twisting, winding mountain roads of the "Sierra Mazateca".  The views were breathtaking, even if the roads were treacherous (I don’t think they’ve discovered guard rails yet in Mexico!).   The camp area was absolutely beautiful, situated on a reservoir that covers hundreds of square miles in southeast Mexico, emptying into the Gulf.  The temperatures were in the low 90′s and it was sunny all three days.

Who wouldn’t consider it a privilege to be able to minister in "paradise", to go and "suffer for Jesus" where it’s sunny and 90 in January?  But that’s not exactly what I mean.  I mean I consider it a great privilege just to be called into full-time ministry anywhere in the world.  And that’s what I preached to the young people at the Camp.

Have you ever read C.S. Lewis’ "The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader’" from the Chronicles of Narnia series?  Near the end of the voyage most of the ship’s crew is afraid to sail on into the uncharted waters of the "uttermost east" and are on the verge of mutiny or desertion.  Caspian, the king and leader of the voyage, wisely addresses his crew with a little reverse psychology: "Friends, I think you have not quite understood our purpose.  You talk as if we had come to your with our hat in our hand, begging for shipmates.  It isn’t like that at all.  We … have an errand to the world’s edge.  It is our pleasure to choose from among such of you as are willing those who we deem worthy of so high an enterprise.  We have not said that any can come for the asking…. Aslan’s mane!  Do you think that the privilege of seeing the last things is to be bought for a song?"  After Caspian promises great rewards if they’re successful or a glorious death if they’re not, all but one of his crew petitions for the privilege of sailing east to the edge of the world and possibly on to "Aslan’s Country".

I felt led to speak to the young people in the same way, that being called into full-time ministry is only for a privileged few.  I shared the story of Gideon (Judges 7) and how God had reduced his army of 32,000 to only 300 men. They were the fortunate ones who had the great privilege of participating in God’s miraculous deliverance of Israel and the defeat of the Midianite army (who probably numbered over 80,000).  God selected only those who first of all answered the general call that he gives all of us, secondly those who didn’t tremble with fear, and thirdly those who were prepared and trained for battle. (Only 300 men didn’t drink from the very vulnerable posture of lying down with their faces in the water!)  Of course, the application for that third point was being trained in our Bible School or extensions!

I admit I was nervous and felt I was taking a big risk with this approach.  After all, we have a great shortage of pastors in Mexico and need as many as possible to answer to the call.  Over these past five years it has seemed like pulling teeth to get people to answer the call to study and go into full-time ministry!  But at the end of the message, I gave an invitation for those who believed God was calling them in all three of these areas (my three points in the message).  I said, "I’m wondering if there might be one or two, possibly three, out of this group of 100 young people who would stand and acknowledge the privilege of being called into full-time ministry.  After all, that’s about 1%, roughly the same percentage of Gideon’s army of 300 out of the original 32,000." 

To my surprise (which I’m ashamed to admit), young people began standing up all over the audience, beginning with two small boys on the front row who immediately shot to their feet!  It looked like about a third of the group of teens were on their feet or beginning to stand.  I said, "Please, not everyone!  Only those who know they are being called!…"  But they refused to sit back down.  I mentally counted 22 on their feet as I began to pray a special prayer over these "privileged few". I’m sure there were more that responded, probably around 30-35 altogether.

It’s not really reverse psychology.  I firmly believe it’s the truth.  Many people look at us who make our living (sometimes a meager one) in the ministry, especially missionaries, and say, "What a sacrifice!"  I don’t see it that way at all.  I say, "What a privilege!"

Thanksgiving just flew past us in a blur.  We almost didn’t stop to celebrate it because of all the things going on around here, and because it’s not a holiday here in Mexico.  But our Wesleyan missionary colleague, Nicky Peña, insisted on us all getting together for a traditional turkey dinner.  I’m glad we did.  After all, I truly am thankful for all that God’s been doing. 

One thing especially crosses my mind and amazes me every time I stop to think about it.  It’s the simple truth that God uses us (all of us) to accomplish His work here on earth.  God works through us, or sometimes, in spite of us and all our stumbling and mumbling efforts to speak grace and truth to those around us.  The Apostle Paul called it "the foolishness of preaching" ("loco" in Spanish!).  In some mysterious way, the Holy Spirit speaks to people through our words and actions, whether or not we’re especially good speakers (or doers).

This past weekend before Thanksgiving was yet another example of this to me.  The seminar on Holiness that I taught was well attended (four pastors and 20 plus lay people), and they all responded well to this simple, yet profound doctrine so basic to our faith (and denomination). 

But the kicker came for me on Sunday morning as I was preaching at one of the local churches in Tehuacan (two hours southeast of Puebla).  In accordance with the 50/50 vision God has given us for Mexico, I have determined that I’ll preach almost nothing but the Call to full-time ministry.  This time I even felt led to give a specific altar call for those who knew God was speaking to them about going into ministry.  I preached my heart out, explained the invitation I was giving, and then had everyone stand together as I prayed.  I prayed with my eyes open to see if anyone was coming forward.  I prayed extra long and with all the conviction I could muster in Spanish (sorry, but it still doesn’t just roll off my tongue like a native!). 

And nothing happened.  No one came forward.  I closed my prayer time praying for those whom I knew God was calling, but weren’t ready to make a public commitment yet (a parting shot).  And then I sat down as the lay leader introduced the closing song.  (The pastor was away for the Sunday, taking advantage of having a guest speaker!  This was not a problem to me as I had already spoken with him the day before.)  I knew I had done my best, and it apparently hadn’t made much of an impact.  It had been a long weekend, and I was ready to go home anyway.

I must admit I groaned inwardly as the lay leader stopped the closing chorus time and began to sum up my sermon again to the congregation.  It’s a typical practice in Latin America.  Though to me it seems redundant and even a bit insulting (as if I didn’t preach it well enough the first time), it really is their way of honoring the guest speaker by showing that his message is worth repeating; too important just to hear once and forget. 

And not only did this gifted lay leader do a masterful job of reiterating the message briefly, he also felt the need to redo the altar call for those whom God was calling into ministry.  I was not insulted; I was eternally grateful.  I knew in my heart that God had been speaking!  And sure enough, with the worship team playing in the background, a mature lady (probably late 50′s) stepped forward with tears streaming down her face.  I was not disappointed even though my message was aimed at the young adults and teens who made up more than half of this congregation.  She would have been enough for me, but as she "broke the ice", young adults, teens, and a couple more mature adults surged forward to acknowledge God’s Call on their lives.  I counted twelve altogether (could have been more) standing around the altar with tears in their eyes.

What a joy it was for me to pray with most of them before the close of the service!  With my arms around them, or with hands on shoulders or head, I again prayed for all I was worth in Spanish.  Mostly I was drowned out by the worship team and the congregation who sang from their hearts.  But it didn’t matter.  God heard and still hears my prayers for these 12, who, through the foolishness of this Gringo trying to preach in Spanish, heard God speaking to them.

For this, I am thankful!

This past Sunday (Nov. 9) saw yet another first for me as a missionary: I officiated a double wedding.  Again in Teotitlan, Oaxaca, the couple who were baptized also wanted to solemnize their civil wedding with a church wedding.  Also, the pastor of the church and his wife wanted to celebrate their 25th anniversary by renewing their vows. 

By the way, the Mexican government only recognizes the civil wedding, so all officially married couples must first go to a magistrate before solemnizing their union in a church wedding.  So, even as an American, I’m allowed to officiate the "secondary" religious ceremony.

The wedding traditions in Mexico are, of course, a little different from a typical U.S. wedding (though those are hardly typical anymore either!).  Along with the traditional vows, the Mexican ceremony is rich in symbolism, using at least five other items besides the rings.  After the rings, the couple is presented with a new Bible, a foundation for the new home.  Next, the groom takes some "gold" coins (usually not real gold) and lets them fall through his fingers into the hands of his bride.  This is a rather chauvinistic symbol that he is sharing all his earthly goods with his new bride.  Then, the bride is presented with a bouquet of live flowers, a symbol of life and beauty.  Then, the couple is given a pair of special cushions on which to kneel, symbolizing prayer as another foundational element to their new home and relationship.  And finally, while the couple is kneeling, a decorative rope (lasso) is placed around them both tying them together "as long as they both shall live."

Please, don’t tell them about our unity candle ceremony.  If I ever have to do a double ceremony again, I don’t think I’d make it with even one more symbolic element!

This time I spent a week in Teotitlan, a medium size town just up the mountainside from a desert region.  It’s situated just across the Oaxaca state line from Puebla state, about 4 hours southeast of where we live in the city of Puebla.  I was teaching a week-long intensive on Church History there where we maintain an extension in our Southeast District.

Normally, Teotitlan is stiflingly hot and dry as it sits on the leeward side of the mountain less than a hundred feet up from the desert floor.  I brought only short sleeves for teaching and a pair of shorts to sleep in at night.  But in an unusual meteorological twist, we were blessed with “el norte”, a rare wind that sometimes blows out of the north drawing down cool mountain air and light rain to the hot regions.  Though I froze at night, the overcast daytime temperatures in the lower 70′s were just right for teaching.  I was sure someone was praying for me!

Then, taking advantage of the presence of the missionary, I was informed Monday night that they were planning a baptism on Wednesday evening for a newly converted couple from the Teotitlan church.  I had brought a few extra sermon notes along, because inevitably they ask you to preach at a moment’s notice.  But I was not prepared to officiate a baptism and preach a baptism message.  (I had never done it before in Spanish!)  Thankfully, I did have my laptop with me which has a copy of the Spanish Wesleyan Discipline, so I was able to copy down the ritual by hand.  On Tuesday after class I managed to whip up a new baptism message to be totally prepared. 

However, nothing could prepare us for the effects of “el norte”.  The church’s “baptistery” was none other than the parsonage’s outdoor water tank (see previous Oaxaca entry).  With nighttime temperatures down in the 50’s, the shaded tank never even had a chance of warming up to baptismal temperatures.  I only had to get wet up to my chest, but I sure felt sorry for our baptizees!  But they gamely, and even joyfully, made their public confession of faith in Jesus Christ.  I don’t think they even noticed when I, through chattering teeth, once messed up the usual order and said, “…in the name of the Father, Holy Spirit, and Son.”
By the way, the Church History class went very well, too!