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"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Ephesians 2:10 I have always loved this Scripture, but it has taken on a new meaning for me as I have spent the month here in Jinotega. I always believed that God had a plan for me (a future for me with special works for me to do) but being here has brought specificity to this verse because I finally understand what those works are. When I am working, serving, and loving God here, I feel an indescribable joy - a joy that I know comes only from the Lord. It is here that I feel alive, like I am doing the very thing that I was made to do. As I read Ephesians 2:10, I know what those works are that God has prepared in advance for me to do.  This is it! What I am doing here on the mission field is what God has prepared me to do. That verse is no longer a general "good-feeling" Scripture, it is a specific lifestyle that I now understand applies...

"Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." This beautiful quote actually comes from the Westminster Shorter Catechism, and I love it's simple message. Our goal and purpose in life, that which brings delight to God and joy to us, is to glorify and enjoy Him. As I rode in the back of a pickup truck to San Antonio today, I marveled at the gorgeous countryside or rural Nicaragua. The morning sun illuminated the green mountainsides. The cool wind blew on my face. The puffy clouds rolled over the corn fields and coffee farms. I thought to myself, I am really enjoying every moment of this . When we arrived at our construction site in San Antonio, I jumped out of the truck with a sack of goodies. With much joy, I gave a new pair of shoes and school supplies to some of the children in the neighborhood. You might have thought it was Christmas day for those kids, and I can't tell you how many times they thanked and hugged me for those little black school ...

As I was working construction at a remote village this week, a lady approached me one day with a letter in her hand. She began speaking rapidly in spanish with a sense of urgency and importance, so I stopped shoveling and directed her to Eliud, our translator. I watched their conversation as she handed him the letter and he stuffed it in his pocket. After she left, I asked Eliud about the exchange. "What did she give you?" I asked. "These are letters of request," he answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out handfuls of crumbled notebook paper. There had to be more than a dozen handwritten notes, each one asking us for help. When Americans come to a neighborhood to build houses, word gets around fast. And so the requests come. At the end of the day, I went with Eliud to look at two houses of families that had written us requests. What I saw took my breath away. A 10x6 foot house made of four wooden corner posts wrapped in plastic bags for the wall...

The first thing I noticed when we reached the worksite today was the row of children and a woman sitting outside a wooden shed. Their bright smiles welcomed me, so I walked toward them and introduced myself. The woman was first to speak. "My name is Maria. This is my house and I am so thankful to God and to you for this new house you are building!" It impressed me how quickly she gave God the glory. She continued to introduce me to the five children sitting beside her, two of which were her own. They all blushed and smiled as I reached down to greet each one with a kiss. I already knew that today was going to be a great day. Our team of eleven people worked successfully today, not because we were experts at construction, but because we worked together as a functional team. Each person had something that they could do, something that they were good at. Some people measured and cut boards while others nailed them to the framing. Still others carried the boar...

"Buenos dias, Angelita!" I greeted one of the precious women who works at the Mission, cooking and cleaning for all of us. She stopped in the hallway and wrapped me in a warm, tight embrace. When I asked her how she was doing, she quickly answered that her baby grandson was very sick. From the discouragement on her face, I knew that this was really bothering her. As I looked into her eyes, I remembered a prayer that I had prayed that morning. Lord, align my heart with yours. Touch my heart with what touches yours . "Angelita, I want to pray with you." So there, in the middle of the hallway, we went before the Lord together. She held a mop in her hand and I held my backpack for the day's work in mine, but our free arms were wrapped around each other in sisterly love. It was a holy moment. This wasn't on the agenda. I had a worksite to get to. She had chores to finish. Yet if you asked me about the most important thing I did today, I wouldn't talk ab...

A quiet, peaceful darkness settled over Jinotega. A few stars twinkled in the twilight sky, but nothing shone as bright as the cross on the mountaintop, which illuminates every evening like the north star. Each night at the end of the work day, everyone gathers on the veranda for our devotional time. As we worshipped together, I looked around the circle at all the faces, some with bright eyes and others with closed eyes. Some displayed huge smiles while others showed sincere concentration. A gentle chill spread over my whole body, but I am not sure if it was because of the light breeze that blew through the night or if it was because of the beautiful, powerful harmonies in the songs of worship we sang.   Tears rolled down as my face as we belted out praises to the only one who is worthy of it all. At the end of this awesome week, it was the only natural and appropriate thing to do, and I have never heard it done with such passion. ...

"Not much has changed in a year, has it?" Mr. Mike said to me as we drove down the main street in Jinotega. I looked around at the buildings, the cars driving by, the people hustling about. We hit a large pothole in the road that bounced our heads in unison. "No, not much has changed since I was here last," I replied. We didn't say much as we continued driving towards the village of Apanas just outside of Jinotega. When we arrived, I smiled as I recognized the familiar layout of the streets as well as the mountains and lake that characterize the village. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Mike, things don't change very much around here, but this place is different." As we drove past the rows of houses, my mind flashed back to four years ago when I first worked at Apanas. Back then, the village was smaller. It was composed of several crooked lines of shacks made from cardboard, scrap metal, and tarp. Today when we drove up to Apanas, I noticed the gli...