Missionary Salary

I have lost heart. Every time I try to figure out how to make this ship work it gets more expensive. I cannot spend $10,000 or more right now. I just don’t have that kind of money to put into an adventure that may fail. If this is something that G-d wants me to do, he will need to provide the funds. I will continue to pray but I don’t want to think about my ship anymore if it is not going to happen.

I started learning how to play soccer yesterday. My neighbors are good teachers. They do not laugh at me or get mad when I accidentally break the rules. I think I am going to buy a soccer ball so that I can practice.

Anita and Joshua and several others have told me that my being here is not a waste and that I should take advantage of it as a time to grow in the L-rd. I just don’t know. It is hard to think about what I could be doing back home. I just don’t know.

A Turn for the Worst

Every moment it seems like another thousand challenges rise up to meet me, each carrying a little dollar sign in their back. I just realized that the price Juan estimated for me did not include rigging, safety equipment, travel expenses, or any other piece of equipment that we need for the boat. I hate to see my dreams drifting away. This project is too much for me. I cannot do it on my own. God will have to come through in a big way if I am going to succeed at this.

A Long Awaited Post

I made a mistake. I asked God to either make this adventure into a good story, and one characteristic of a good story is that it requires sacrifice. As I sat on the porch of a neighbors pulperia, tasting the forest meat that we hunted earlier that day, I asked Juan what he thought it would cost to buy the materials for our ship. He thought about it for a while.

“Costara, mas o menos, tres millones de colones.”

“Tres millones!? Pero yo no tengo este cantidad de moneda!”

“Cuesta mucho hacer un bote asi. Un galon de pintura cuesta como venticinco mil.”

Translation:

“It will cost, more or less, $6,000.”

“$6,000?! But I don’t have that kind of money!”

“It costs a lot to make a boat like this. One gallon of paint costs like $50.”

I went home that night disheartened. $6,000 is a lot of money to spend on a boat that may or may not actually work. If I could be completely assured that I would succeed, I could justify the $6,000 easily, but it is harder to risk that kind of money on a pipe dream. As I fell asleep I resolved not to think about the ship anymore unless I magically came across some source of funding.

My resolution lasted about 12 hours. After I finished mowing the lawn with a weed eater this morning, I started thinking about my promise again. Is my word valueless? Is keeping a promise to a friend not worth the risk of loss and failure? What about Juan? Is it not worth $6,000 for him to have an adventure and finally get to see the United States? What about me?

I imagined myself at the end of my life, thinking over all the memories that I love and all the relationships that I cherish. As I lay there on my death bed, will I say, “I sure am glad that I saved that $6,000 to go toward a nicer camera and a better apartment?” Or will I look back and say, “Remember when my friend Juan and I built a ship and sailed to the United States together? Remember when I did something crazy to keep a promise to my friend Amanda? Remember what it was like as Juan and I pulled up to the share in Tuscaloosa, Alabama and all of my friends were there to meet us? Remember Amanda’s face when we pulled around the bend and the town of Valdez swung into view?”

I have to spend some time thinking about this. I want to commit to this adventure, and I think that is what I am supposed to do, but before I can go for this completely I need to talk to my wise counsel. I need to seek the advice of my elders.

Good stories involve risk.

Dear Dad

I wonder sometimes how much of my personality and character come from you and mom. I think about the influence that you have had on my life, and the values that you have instilled in all of your children, but especially the ones that you have instilled in me. I do not think that I could have been blessed with a better set of parents. You and mom have modeled a good life for me.

You have taught me to value my relationship with God above all else, and to value my relationships with people after that. Each day as you study and apply the scripture, you set an example that I want to follow. Your critical analysis has taught me not to take things at face value, but to consider everything that I see, hear, or read in the light of reason, experience, and the things that I know to be true. You have also taught me that just because someone is wrong, it does not mean that it is my duty to correct them, a lesson that I am still learning. You have taught me the value of discipline and taking care of your body through careful eating and exercise.

Your accomplishments make me want to do great things. I am so proud every time that I tell people about your ultra marathons, the time you ran 100 miles, the time you ran down a rabbit, and the list goes on. I want to be like you. I want to know everything and to have done everything like you. I want to sail like you, and maintain my own home like you. I want to appreciate the outdoors as much as you do. I want to travel and learn for my entire life like you have done.

Thank you for teaching me to hunt and to shoot. Thank you for teaching me to travel. Thank you for teaching me to read everything and ask lots of questions (and follow up questions). Thank you for teaching me to have a good sense of humor (well, I don’t know how good it is ^_~ ). Thank you for teaching me to run, and helping me understand math and science. Thank you for trying to teach me about birds and plants. Thank you for giving me my first knife at the age of 5 (I miss that knife). Thank you for teaching me to make my own decisions and be responsible for those decisions. Thank you for teaching me that physical comfort is not the most important thing.

You have raised me from a child to a man, and that means so much to me. The best gift you ever gave me was telling me that I was a man, and that whatever decision I made would be a good one. The second best gift you ever gave me was your combat knife (that is my favorite possession).

I have too many fond memories of you to list them here (I guess that is a good thing), but I will mention a few of my favorites. I remember getting my first knife from you. I remember catching my first fish in yellow stone with you. I remember shooting my first deer at Mr. Wilsons with you (heart shot from a shooting house). I remember when we would go hunting off of the ground, and we would take turns sleeping. I remember running with you to get ready for my first season of Cross Country. I remember hunting for sharks teeth in Galveston with you. I remember when you took me to Costa Rica for the first time. I remember guiding the canoe at Tuscoba with you. I remember most of our hunting trips. I remember when I first started coming into your office in campus as a little kid, and then as a university student. I remember hiking barefoot across the Alaskan tundra with you. These are just a few of my favorites.

Basically what I am trying to say with this letter is that you are the best Dad ever and I really love you. Thank you for helping make me who I am today. Thank you for being the best Dad that anyone could hope for.

What Fools These Mortals Be

As I am sure you have gathered from reading my blog, I am a little bit crazy. I make a habit of referring to myself as a schemer on a regular basis. About every two or three weeks I have some crazy new idea which almost never comes to pass, but which nevertheless manages to get me excited. This week my idea is to build a ship.

Now I know that sounds ridiculous. How am I going to build a ship with no experience and little money while sitting on a farm in Costa Rica? Before you write me off completely, let me tell you a little bit of my story.

Three years ago I told a friend of mine that after she graduated, I would build a boat and that we would sail together to Alaska. I built her a toy boat, and a bamboo raft, but I never kept my word to my friend. As I was sitting on the front porch of our farm house, looking at the canoe that my fellow missionary Joshua had made, I began to think about my friend back home. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could finally keep part of my promise by giving her a canoe that I had made? But how could I get a heavy wooden canoe back to Alabama?

I started thinking about myself paddling back to Alabama in a canoe. No, I would definitely need something bigger, and preferably something with sails. I thought about a larger outrigger canoe with sails, but then I imagined myself being carried out to sea in a tiny little craft, waves crashing over my head, no land in sight. I would definitely need something bigger than a canoe if I wanted to cross the Caribbean. It was then that I had the idea to build a ship. I wanted something small enough to be managed by one or two people, but large enough to travel safely in the sea. Almost immediately I started drawing up plans for my small sail boat. It would be about 30 ft. long, 10 ft wide in the middle, with living quarters below deck and triangle sails above.

I am not so unrealistic that I believe that I am going to succeed at building a seaworthy vessel, but every day I become more hopeful as my designs are refined. The biggest challenge that I face at the moment is determining if this is just a silly idea that I have for my own gratification, or if this adventure actually has a purpose. Is keeping a silly, half-joking promise to a friend sufficient justification for building a ship and having a great adventure, or is it just an excuse. Does keeping my promise mean anything to anyone other than me?

L-rd please rescue me from my brothers in Christ!

Please Father, protect me from the extreme right wing of dogmatic Christianity that preaches that there is something spiritually wrong with me because I do not feel extreme conviction at the idea of drinking alcohol. Please deliver me from my brothers in Christ, who stand and point at me (with 3 fingers pointing right back at themselves) to condemn me for having friendships with sinners, for not being as conservative as they are, for not condemning anyone who partakes of alcohol or cigarettes or who listens to non-religious music and dances, for not wanting to loudly and dogmatically evangelize anything with two legs and a pulse. L-rd please give me your peace and fill me with your love to the point that it cannot help but overflow into the lives of these people. I earnestly want your help in this L-rd. I am in a desert, begging for a sip of the water of life that will allow me to love my brother instead of being disgusted by the words of his lips.

I do not want to slander my brother or hate him or condemn him as I am being condemned by him. I want to show him the same love that you have given me for those who do not believe in you. It is so much harder for me to have love for a fellow Christian who behaves in this way than it is for me to love a non-believer who is only acting according to the flesh by which he is bound. Please soften my heart L-rd and forgive me for hating my brother and judging him according to my prejudices. It is easy to see why non-believers so often hate Christians, but I ask that you would forgive me of that attitude and change me so that I cannot see why anyone would hate another person who is not blaspheming your name. Please forgive me for being equally guilty of the same actions that I am condemning.

Always the Cynic

Two years ago, my friend and mentor (and now brother in law) Ben was giving a talk to a group of Campus Life staff at one of our “three story evangelism” training seminars. I will never forget what he said.

“When I first heard about ‘three story evangelism’, I was not completely sure if I bought into it or not. It was not until I saw Andrew Bishop, who is extremely critical and cynical of everything, whole heartedly embrace ‘three story’ that I knew for sure that this is good stuff.”

Fifth Story

I have just finished reading Donald Miller’s latest book, and I am about to start reading it again. I talks about stories in a way that is real, but that still inspires me to make my own life into a better story.

Reading this book has really helped me to take a look at my life and start evaluating the stories that I am living. I have realized that most of the stories that I am living are really not great stories so much as great adventures. They are mostly fun and interesting and challenging, and I believe that they help me to grow, but they are also mostly self serving. Most of my life is done because of a desire to gratify my own curiosity, rather than a desire to serve others. There is, however, one exception. My time with Campus Life is the best story that I have lived. It is the best thing that I have done with my life, and it is something that I greatly miss. I want to live more great stories like that, rather than devoting my whole life to personal adventures.

Higher Pastures

The farm in Delta (the name of the region), is located on the banks of a river which floods every year. Like much of the Amazon basin, the land is actually highest at the riverbanks, sloping gently down into swamps and lagoons as you move farther from the river. Parts of our farm are high enough that they only flood by a few inches, while other parts can be submerged up to waist or even chest height.

Our cows need a place to rest at night where they can be dry, and because of this need, we are currently in the process of building a mound of earth which will act as a base for our future corral. We began the process by hauling old and rotting lumber into a large rectangle that is roughly 8 meters by 10 meters. Using two shovels and a wheel barrow we have spent the last few days hauling earth from different parts of the farm in order to raise the level of the ground by as much as two feet in places. When we finish, we will start construction of the corral that we need and eventually we will build a roof as well.

I feel like so little of my time actually goes to working on spiritual matters. On Sunday we lead a church service, and we do spend some time with neighbors, but it is a difficult transition for me to go from spending 20 hours a week working with students through Campus Life to spending about 5 hours a week leading a church service. It is such a different pace here.

I would love to be in the schools leading bible studies, but we have certain jobs that we must get done quickly before the floods arrive, and to travel to the schools and talk to the teachers in Jobo and Zapotal is an entire days worth of work, and costs about $20 worth of gasoline. We are going to try to talk to the teachers this Sunday, but even if we can get permission to start, we wont have time to visit all the schools until we have finished the corral, and Juan has finished the boat that he was contracted to build for the neighbors.

I have been praying and I ask that you also will pray for opportunities to share the gospel and talk with people about the word of God throughout the week. Also please pray as I am making decisions about whether to start teaching (English, and maybe math and reading) in a local school that currently has no teacher (they may not even want me to teach).

One neat thing did happen this week. One of our neighbors has a 15 year old sun named Alfredo. Alfredo loves to be around gringos, and the other day we invited him to eat with us. Before eating, we asked him to pray over the meal. He claimed that he did not know how, but after we explained to him that praying simply means talking to God, and gave him some ideas about things to pray about, he lead me and Juan in a wonderful blessing over our meal.