Haiti/DR Video

My friend Mark Gould did an amazing job capturing our week of mission here!  Enjoy!

The Longest Day. . . Pt 3 The End of the Journey

Part 3: The End of the Journey

For the next several hours after arriving in the Dominican Republic, we stopped at 10 immigration/police check points where we were asked for our passports, made another stop along the side of the road for passengers needing to relieve themselves, and a dinner stop where everything finally got to Mimi.  Mimi had asked one of our new Haitian friends from the bus to buy a water for her. . . she gave her the only $1 we had.  We still had 2 $20 bills but were holding onto those for dear life at this point.  The lady at the restaurant began yelling at the woman and that was all Mimi could take.  The Haitian and Dominican women gathered around her and comforted her.  They paid the remainder of the water and gave her a plate of food.  Angels had arrived to minister to my wife in a beautiful way and even provided water from a rock and manna from heaven.  By now we were sure that this day would never come to an end.

So we got back on the bus. . . I used my roaming data to determine that we were still about an hour from Barahona.  Mind you we were informed that this was between a 3-4 hour trip and it was now approximately 7:30 p.m. and we had started our journey at 10:00 a.m.  I was beginning to feel a bit like Gilligan on a three hour tour. . . (apologies to those born after 1980 for that childhood reference).  At about 8:30 p.m. we rolled into the outskirts of Barahona and we were home free. . . or so we thought.

The bus “Mommi” who had promised to take us to the bus station in Barahona, determined that our time on the bus had come to an end and that the Americanos had to disembark immediately.  To her credit, I know she was looking ahead to the remaining 3 hour trip into the capital city and realizing this trek was taking too long even for the natives.  She informed us that the man in front of us who was also getting off the bus would insure our safe travel the rest of the way.  We were caught in a momentary panic.  “What do we do?”  “Are they going to rob us and leave us somewhere?”  Reluctantly and with a bit of encouragement from my wife’s new “angels” we got our luggage and put it into the back of a pick-up and headed towards Barahona.  

The driver was making good time, flying through the windy roads.  Mimi commented, “I like how this guy drives.”  Obviously we were anxious to get to our destination.  Just as she said that we passed a speed limit sign that said, “70 KM” and we both instinctively looked at the man’s speedometer to see how fast he was going.  It turns out the speedometer didn’t work and we got a big kick out of that.  I reminded Mimi that the bus driver was much more cautious and did not want to hit a pot hole (which I counted 745 on the journey) and blow a tire.  As if my words were prophetic beyond my expectation we hit a pot hole and blew a tire.  The driver continued to drive, slowed to about 80% of his previous speed and kept going towards Barahona.

Eventually we found a place to pull over and did so.  The tire and rim were destroyed!  Our new friends informed us that Barahona was only 3 KM in “that direction”.  We called our friends in Barahona and as we were talking with them, these friends flagged down a passing vehicle and we got into yet another vehicle with yet another person we do not know.  At this point and perhaps even before, Mimi and I are getting quite punchy.  We are certain that some people will accuse us of making this stuff up.... but it is true.

Less than five minutes after we were wisked into the second pickup truck, we finally arrived at the Barahona Bus Depot to meet up with our Children of the Nations staff.  A few minutes later we arrived at a land flowing with milk and honey which was expressed in exotic fruit juices, pizza, and a swimming pool.  It was 9:30 p.m. when we completed our journey, that we had anticipated being at by noon.

Promised Land Pool

Main Casa for Children of the Nations

A couple of side notes that we’ve discovered since we have returned to the states.

1. The bus trip to the border should have taken 1 hour, plus 1 hour through customs and 1 1/2 hours to Barahona from the border to equal 3 1/2 hours as we had anticipated.
2. The lake/border we crossed and several points considered getting out and wading through, is crocodile infested.  The salt-water crocs have made the lake (which has a high volume of salt in it) their new home and there have been many warnings issued by the Dominican government in this regard.  I’m really glad I didn’t know this ahead of time.
3. The DR is the second safest country in Latin America to Costa Rica.  We certainly experienced that as angels in the guise of fellow bus passengers and pick-up drivers on the outskirts of town delivered us to our destination.

Dorms in Tropical Paradise

So the question is: who’s going to the DR with me next summer?  I’m starting the recruiting today!

For the Longest Time. . . Part 2

Part 2:

As we arrived at the immigration and customs offices, and I do use the term loosely, we began to understand the gravity of our situation.  As we looked outside our window we saw several buildings and vehicles that were taking on water.  I presumed that the buildings were in fact the customs office.  It was obvious that in order to pass through the border I was going to have to take the passports through the water to the make-shift shelters that were set up.  

The passenger behind me graciously decided to “help” me through customs.  He took our passports, waded through the water to the Haitian Immigration office (I use that term extremely lightly, it was a table under a tarp giving shade to the workers).  Oh by the way, the "leaving the country tax" went from $20 to $30 with his “help” because after all, I needed him.  By now we didn't have much cash and we refused to pay the extra $10 for "help".  He insisted that he would help and so we were off.  He then proceeded to the Dominican immigration office (similar to Haitian immigration) and translated for me.  Once again, I paid the visa fee to enter the country and then took 2 of our 4 bags to the baggage check table.  The lady opened our suitcases, said “ropa” to the lady next to her and zipped it back up.  Upon completing this process, I did end up giving my new friend a $5 bill as a thank you for his help, which he took as a complete insult. He wanted $10 to which I replied that I didn't have $10.  We were rationing big time by now and I certainly wasn't going to give this guy my last $20 with who knows how much longer to go on the journey.  He was ungrateful but took the $5.  Mimi told me when I returned to the bus that he was complaining about what a cheapskate I was.  Oh well, he's right and I'd do it again under the same circumstances.

Bob & Dominican "Helper" at Customs Baggage Check

After about 20-30 more minutes of sitting on the bus waiting for our one mile trip through the lake to the promised land of the Dominican Republic, we were once again yanked off the bus and sent back to immigration.  Mimi and I had no idea what to expect.  The “Mommi” of the bus was yelling at immigration and insisting in Dominican indignation that we had already passed through and received our entrance visas, which we had.  It took 2 officers checking our documents a second and third time in order to release us once again.  We thought, “surely we’ll now be on our way.”  

Unfortunately, we waited an additional 30-40 minutes while there was extreme haggling going on regarding a lady (Dominican and Spanish speaking, but traveling with US passport) who had brought a television on the bus.  She was seated directly in front of Mimi on the bus.  They wanted her to pay the import tax . . . which was paid by “Mommi” after much noisy argument and consternation.  “Mommi” then took it upon herself to lay into the lady on the bus in no uncertain terms.  Even though I didn’t catch half of what she was actually saying, I’m pretty sure she was not inviting her to dinner at her home. I had to chuckle to myself. . . “was this the same sweet lady who was praying for us earlier in the day?” 

Also during this time, the Dominican “Sheriff” had made his way onto the bus to assert his authority. While he was checking documents and hassling the locals at the back of the bus, he was invading my personal space in a big way.  While this is not often an issue for me, the fact that his large frame and his 9mm pistol was jammed into my leg was not all pleasant.  I joked with Mimi about having to explain to people how I lost my leg.... “Well I was on a bus from Haiti to the DR when. . .” 

The entire time we were at the border and for much of the journey, the air conditioning was not working.  Apparently it needed us to be traveling at least 10 miles per hour in order to run and we rarely reached that top speed.  Needless to say, we were sweltering in the heat and humidity and were aware of our surroundings and our neighbors in more ways than we cared to.

The bus then got in line behind approximately 5,432 other large vehicles trying to pass through the border. Did I mention there might be water?  Well there was.  The lake has no natural way to drain and the recent rains had caused its shores to overflow and put several buildings, cars, and the road all under water.  There was anywhere from 1 1/2- 3 feet of standing water on the road at the border crossing.  It was good that we were in a bus.  Some more daring souls were actually carrying there luggage and wading the mile or so across the lake.  This was insanity in my mind.

We moved slowly for approximately 10-15 minutes and then we stopped.  Mimi thinks it was for an hour to an hour and a half.  I’m certain it was longer than that.  We didn’t move. . . for what seemed like an eternity.  And then we did. . . a whole 3-4 car or bus lengths and then stopped again.  It went on like this for another hour or so.  And then as if God were parting the Red Sea for Moses, the traffic opened up and we crossed the water into the promised land, Jimani, Dominican Republic.

Some funny things that happened at the border/lake. . . The lady in front of us, who brought the TV, ordered four hard boiled eggs from a street vendor out her window.  Several people got off and on the bus for reasons that baffled me and some never returned including the man who “helped” us with customs. Several people who were not on our bus previously hopped aboard for the maiden voyage.  We were offered jewelry, sunglasses, food, watches, cigarettes, ice cream and more through our window. 

For my friends who have travelled between San Diego and Tijuana, I want you to know that I have a new found appreciation and respect for the order at the border there, even on the Mexican side.  The Hatian/Dominican border was so far removed from anything I have ever experienced before and likely will never again experience it.  We have determined that future trips will be done through the airports, so as to not to rely on the crazy border situations.  My friend Ray, who was with us for part of the journey, says it well.  “The Dominican Republic is a third-world country. . . Haiti is a sixth-world country.”   

I know you all are going to accuse me of being dramatic and exaggerating the story for effect, but hear me when I say that I am not doing so in this instance.  Keith King, our fearless leader, says that the truth about Haiti is stranger than any fiction and more unbelievable.  I would even argue that the situation was much more dramatic and humorous than I am even describing here.  But I am only giving the high/lowlights of the journey, so there you have it.

Check out this link: Flooded Jimani Crossing

Part 3: Coming soon!

For the Longest Time.... a simple 3 hour tour from Haiti to the Dominican Republic

Caveats for the following story...

1. Our primary reason for this trip was to participate in meal distribution in Barahona, D.R.
2. We had tried/planned/expected to leave Haiti the day before but were unable to for a number of reasons.... some of which will be clearer as the story unfolds.

June 23, 2011, was in fact the longest day on record in my life.  While you might hear a hint of anxiety or frustration in the tone of that first line, the truth is that our emotions ran the gamut between sadness, gladness, courage and intrepidation.

Mimi and I in the back of our Tap Tap!

At precisely 6:45 a.m. our Tap Tap (that is Haitian-Creole for crazy painted taxi) arrived to transport us to the Caribe Tours Bus Depot, with whom our coordinator in the states had just made special arrangements for our safe passage to Barahona.  Caribe Tours is a fleet of luxury bus lines that are complete with air conditioning, bathrooms, and private video monitors.  I even decided to wear a collared shirt so as to dress up a bit for our journey.  We were well prepared with Jimmy our translator, Oxidal, our navigator, and Eve, our driver.  All three Haitian helpers were certain they knew exactly where to go.  Their certainty should have been my first clue that we were headed for adventure of colossal proportions.

By 7:35 a.m., we arrived at Capital Coach Bus Tours. . . I want to remind you that we were set to ride Caribe Tours.  So after explaining this to our Haitian friends about 65 times, we then proceeded to go to another bus company down the street. . . also not Caribe Tours.  So our 3-4 hour trip to Barahona, Dominican Republic got off to a bumpy start to say the least.  By the way, our Caribe Tours bus was set to embark at 8:00 a.m.  When the second bus station informed us that they would not be willing/able to accommodate us, we headed back to Capital Coach, because Caribe Tours was on the entire other side of Port au Prince.  At precisely 8:15, we were informed that the 8:30 Capital Coach bus to Santo Domingo was full and that we would have to take the 10:00 a.m. bus.  By 8:25, we were informed that the bus would not stop at Barahona for any reason. . . and that in fact it was dangerous to do so.

Jimmy, our translator extraordinaire, then remembered that there was a local bus (notice Not tour bus), that would go directly to Barahona.  We said, “We’ll take it”.  Unfortunately, that would mean a drive through the capital to an unnamed bus station on the other side of town.  We arrived at 9:45 a.m. as the bus was loading for a 10:00 a.m. departure.  We paid way too much money to get on the bus, but were happy to be making progress and they agreed to drop us off at the Bus Depot in Barahona, which was more or less on the way to Santo Domingo, the bus' final destination.  I was informed that the fare would be $40 US per person.  Upon handing the man the $80, I saw him pocket one of the four $20, but was determined to get to Barahona no matter what it took.  We were just happy that someone was finally willing to take care of us.  For comfort Jimmy and Oxidal decided to ride with us back to Croix des Bouquets, where we started the whole day.  A little irony goes a long way on a day like this!  As we were leaving the bus depot, the bus “Mommi” prayed an earnest and spirited prayer for our safety and for getting through the border.  I thought at the time, “how nice that she would pray for us.”

An hour or more bus ride back through Port au Prince, which by the way is still a city in complete and utter disarray, and we arrived at Croix des Bouquets where my two friends disembarked and wished us well in our travels.  We did have to make a pitstop as three Haitian ladies had to answer the call of nature outside my window on the side of the bus.  That is an image I will not soon get out of my head!  I thought surely now, we will start making progress to Barahona.

About this time . . . and approximately 10 minutes outside Croix des Bouquets, we stopped for lunch.  Stopped for lunch, however, meant that someone got out of the bus at an outdoor food stand of sorts and ordered food for many of the people on the bus.  Mimi and I were incredulous.  “Are you serious?” I believe was Mimi’s response.  So now we’ve been on this trek for four hours and 35 minutes and have traveled approximately five miles towards our destination.  This would prove to be the norm rather than the exception on this particular journey. . . adventure. . . quest. . . thing (bone for Tolkien fans).

After everyone fed their faces we once again started on our way.  About an hour to an hour and a half later we arrived at the lake that serves as the primary Southern border crossing between Haiti and the Dominican Republic.  I was never so excited to see a third-world (looked like it was a war zone) border crossing in my life.  I had heard rumors that it might take an hour to get through customs and the road was supposedly under water in places, but the end was in sight . . . or so I thought. 

To be continued. . .

Job's Hell, Hope and Healing for Others

In my Old Testament class last week, we studied the book of Job, one of the most amazing and difficult writings in all of Scripture.  We explored questions about why God would barter with Satan, why suffering happens, how we respond to those who are suffering, and what this means for us today.  We looked at the overall view of suffering in the book and the picture of restoration at the end.  It is a glorious picture of God making things right again.  It would have been a picture of hope to the people of God who were experiencing the brokenness of being in exile and their future laying in ruins.

Since our study, which continues to swirl around my mind, I have had no less than four individuals and couples approach me about advice and/or counseling.  Each of them in the midst of their own Job-like loss and suffering.  God has enabled me to be present with each one in their suffering....something that Job's friends were unable to do with him.  He has also allowed me to give a glimmer of hope through the story of Job to each of these people.  God continues to use the story of Job to bring hope to a world suffering so much.

I imagine that many in Japan today are reeling the events of the past 36 hours.  There are thousands of Job stories out there and as the people of God, we are to be present with them in their suffering...and to offer a vision of hope for the future.  Let's find ways to be agents of hope in this time of suffering and uncertainty.

A Whole Lotta Hoopla About Hell

Rodin's Gates of Hell in Paris

Since the firestorm this past weekend surrounding a new book by Pastor/author Rob Bell, and the self-appointed heresy police, heaven and hell seem to be on everyone's minds...at least everyone in Twitterland and the Blogosphere who follow certain emerging or neo-calvinist leaders and pastors.  I've read several blogs and takes on the events, so I'm not sure I'm adding anything original here but I thought a few things might be helpful as we navigate these areas.

1.  Is Rob Bell a universalist?  I don't know the answer to that question and I'm not sure we'll even know once his book comes out and we're able to hear his own words on the subject of Heaven and Hell.  

2.  Is it wrong to hope that all or at least most or many will make it into God's kingdom in the end?  It sounds suspiciously like the New Testament.  2 Peter 3:9 states: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." I'm not sure we'd consider Peter a universalist nor the Lord he infers here.  

3.  What is Hell and who goes there?  While we have neatly defined systematic theologies set in place, the Scriptures aren't nearly so well-defined.  Matthew 25 is one of the most well-known passages where Jesus talks about Hell.  But the point of the passage is not Hell, but what a righteous person in God's view is...one who feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, etc.  So we have to extrapolate a view of Hell from a lot of sources that allude to some place of judgment that is certainly less than clear from the context of Scripture.  And the second question about who goes there is even more dicey.  Taking the Matthew 25 passage, it is the ones who fail to feed the hungry etc.  How many in our churches would be on the wrong side of this equation?  In the story of the Rich Young Ruler....the criteria is giving up wealth.  Again, I fear that most of us, myself included, would fail this test.  And then of course there's that great example of when Jesus is exercising judgment and people come to him and say, "Lord, did we not prophecy in your name...." So now the preachers are in trouble.  All of this leads me to extreme caution when dealing with issues like heaven and hell.  

4.  Lastly....though I'm sure there is more to say on this...I want to share the perspective of a friend of mine.  We were discussing Jonah and how after God saved the people of Nineveh, Jonah was irate at the Lord.  This is truly unbecoming behavior of a prophet of God (and that's the subject for another post).  Revival in Nineveh should have been the highlight and shining moment for this prophet and instead it was his biggest blunder.  What if we are faced with the same dilemma over the people in our time?  What if we are to express deep sadness about the lost and preach and pray on their behalf that maybe, just maybe the Lord will save them?  That is a vision I could get excited about.  "The Lord, the Lord is a God who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving the iniquity and transgression and sin for the thousandth generation yet will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children to the third and fourth generation" Exodus 34:6-7.

Prayers in Portland

Day one of Face to Face, which is the time each semester that our seminary cohort travels from points of origin around the states to descend upon George Fox in Portland, was a day of prayer unlike any I've experienced in my life.  The class we held today was on prayer.  So in addition to looking at the theology of prayer and various prayers in the Scriptures, including the Lord's Prayer and the Gethsemane Prayer, we went on a field trip....to pray.

High upon a hilltop in Northwest Portland lays a jewel of a location to enter into the deeper realms of prayer.  We had three separate assignments to participate in this afternoon: individual prayer and meditation guided by Scripture and poetry, conversational prayer in small groups, and a walking prayer labyrinth.  The home on the hill provided multiple places throughout for groups and individuals to be spend time praying without interruption or distraction.  But the highlight for most of us, myself included, was the prayer labyrinth which was outside on the beautiful grounds of the estate.

Looking for Love...

My kids got a puppy for Christmas....well that's not exactly true.  My kids got a couple of puppy training books and the promise of a puppy for Christmas.  We didn't want to bring home a puppy and then leave it for four days when we went to Mexico.  So the day we returned from Mexico the girls began the search for their new love.  We've been all over Craigslist, visited shelters and looked on Petfinder.com for that allusive puppy.  This afternoon we're headed to a shelter in Lancaster, approximately an hour from our home.  What would possess us to do this?  Love!  Our love for our girls and their love for a puppy they haven't met yet.  Lancaster has puppies....and lots of them.  We may or may not come home with a puppy today, but the search is on!

Lost in the Twilight Zone

My day began at 3:30 a.m. when my trusty iPhone woke me and reminded me that it was Mexico time!  So we got the family up, showered packed the vehicle and headed to the church.  We met our team, received registrations, funds and plenty of coffee and bagels before we headed south.  About 11 a.m. we pulled into the Ensenada Outreach Center and removed our luggage......well everyone's luggage except for my lovely wife's.  Mimi's bag was no where to be found.

Building Lives & Homes in Ensenada

Each January for the past 12 years, we have joined friends, neighbors, and fellow church members to head south of the border for a home-building expedition.  Our next adventure begins this coming Friday!  While those who know me will agree that I am prone to hyperbole, this trip is truly transformational.  A few stories should suffice to illustrate this point.

Unexpected Winter Wonderland Hits Southern California

For most of my 41years, I have lived in Sunny Southern California.  I love the sunshine and the mild winters we experience living here.  But on occasion it's nice to embrace a change of pace.

Already on pace to have a record-breaking year of rain fall, the Santa Clarita Valley where I live had an unexpected snowstorm come through yesterday.  The SCV is known for the theme park, Magic Mountain as well as very hot summer weather, but not snow.  For the first time, in thirteen years of living here, we got snow.  My kids, wife and even our labrador retriever were frolicking in the falling flakes from heaven.  While not much of it actually accumulated, it was a delightful change of pace and a gift from God.

My Top 10 reads of 2010

Not in any particular order, the following are 10 of my favorite reads for the past year.  For the first time ever, I started the year with a list of books I wanted to read and added to it as the year went on.  While the list was beyond my grasp to complete, I did enjoy working my way through it.  Here are my top 10.

1.  Deep Church by Jim Belcher
2.  Life Entrepreneurs by Gergen & Vanourek
3.  Simply Christian by NT Wright
4.  The Great Emergence by Phyllis Tickle
5.  The Call by Os Guiness
6.  The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind by Mark Noll
7.  Just Courage by Gary Haugee
8.  Remembering Our Future by Walker & Bretherton
9.  The Gospel According to Lost by Chris Seay
10.  Made to Stick by Chip & Dan Heath

Evangelicalism in Post-Christian Society

Introduction & Methodology Outline:

Having come to faith in Jesus as a high school student in an energetic, evangelical youth ministry in the 1980s and having been involved in various aspects of evangelical church ministry over the past twenty years has led me to research the current situation as well as the future hope of this great movement.  NorthPark Community Church where I currently serve as Mission Pastor, is a prime example of an evangelical church and should benefit from these findings.  Over the past decade I have been influenced greatly by both the Emerging Church as well as the Organic/Missional movement.  Finding a way forward is a major theme of this research and as so often the case, we will explore the past in order to find our place in the future.  Many of the movements within Christianity are dabbling in the ancient practices of the Church as a means of renewal and participation in the larger Christian community. 

A Look Back

Today as I watch the Rose Parade, College Football, put a puzzle together with my kids and reflect on the beginning of another year, I want to celebrate some of the highlights from 2010.  While it has been a difficult year in many ways there is much to appreciate as well.

Family Highlights:

The year began with our annual mission to Mexico.  This year we were able to build two homes for migrant families outside of Ensenada.  The best part for me was when the family we built a home for the year before decided to help us complete one of the homes we were working on.  Seeing them pay it forward was especially rewarding for me.  I love that this is a tradition that my family participates in every year.  My kids look forward to it as much as Mimi and I do.