CHAPTER 9 First Missions Trips : Honduras and France.

Honduras in 2003

Medical Mission Trip to a Compassion Project Village

My first time in Central America and my first taste of poverty outside the US. I had participated in Salkehatchie in South Carolina. Youth from all over the state would travel out of town to repair homes in severe disrepair. But this was poverty far deeper than any I’d seen.

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I was one of the translators and boy was it a stretching me experience. I also worked a lot with the kids because I’m naturally drawn to their energy and purely humble spirits.

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The funniest moment was when the Pastor whose message I was prepared to translate yielded the floor to a visiting Pastor and told me to keep translating the newcomer, scripture references and all. But I kept up!?! The Holy Spirit was whispering in my ear. And I was predicting his use of scripture and turning there before he did,lol.

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After the service though, I was in for a shock. One of the young men in the village, 19 or 20 years old, was having a meltdown and threatening to commit suicide. The Pastor of the village looks around at all the men in the room. There was his assistant Pastor, and his own 19 year old son. There were the doctors and other members of our mission team. Everyone is really waiting for him to say, “Let’s go work this out.’ Instead he looks at me and says “Ricardo, you will talk to him.”

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And instead of freaking out…on the outside, I did talk to him. He really was just working through depression and crippling mistakes but was quite willing to hear that God still loved Him and wanted a relationship with Him and had plans that he would never discover if he didn’t wait for them. It was an anointed intercession by the Holy Spirit. He ended up weeping out the frustrations and accepting hope in Jesus Christ.

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France in 2005

The trip to Honduras was great. I learned that my heart beats for the outcast and uncared for, the widow and the orphan, the depressed and the hopeless. I hurt for all of those who are forgotten or whose deep spiritual poverty is invisible to others because that’s who and where I used to be.

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But I couldn’t see myself in Honduras for life. I thought, “France actually has almost no missionaries and I already speak French 10 time better than Spanish. No awkward search for the right words”

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I thought of the Vivaldi’s and the millions of other French families who might live their whole lives and never meet a follower of Christ. They seem hard and bitter to the outside world but  the French are hungry and ripe to believe in something real. They question everything and so end up in this place of doubt and fear. They really want a rock they can cling to and I KNOW that’s Jesus.

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So for 2 years I searched for organizations that send teams to France and train the French to make disciples. I couldn’t find anything.  I mean no one was ministering there short-term or longterm. I’ve heard France called the missionary graveyard.

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Then my rightnow.org missions coach pointed me to Navigators. They had a 3 week opportunity to work with kids while their parents attended a spiritual conference. We would all stay at Camp des Cimes in the French Alps. It was like God designed the trip just for me. A small team of American college kids, another teacher, and me to mentor kids and their families in France.

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There were 30 or so French families at the Camp des Cimes. While the parents and older teens attend a disciple-making Christ-focused conference, our team would organize activities for the kids. We divided them into groups and I got the elementary boys group. It was like suddenly having 10 younger brothers. We studied the bible, learned praise songs in English,  played volleyball and soccer, all the while laughing and bonding in a mountain paradise.

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I was also strategically bunked with the older high school guys. There were 4 of them. They all knew each other from summers past. Two were inseparable and busy flirting with the high school girls.

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The other two, Josias Eyraud and David Braesch, and I immediately clicked. Josias was and is one of those golden boys whose flaws are always forgiven thanks to his good looks and charm. Josias was the kind of kid content to be perceived as not very intelligent or deep. He was lazy and well aware of it. He always expected to be able to smile his way out of any trouble. He tried to play tough. But he had a big heart. He had the most patience with my resurrected but flawed French. He is still a work in progress. He recognizes the value of Christ but is still not ready to have a personal relationship with him. 

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Every day there were activities that encouraged the entire camp to participate. At those times Josias was my shadow. Hiking. Volleyball. Talent show. Nightly singing in French. He was always talking about his other black friends and asking me to sing. He, like many of the French, was intrigued with American culture and music…despite stereotypes to the contrary.

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He expected me to be a stereotypical basket-ball playin  and rapping black gospel singer and wasn't too shy to say so. I can't even dribble the basketball and rap!?!? I did sing a lot though. I had taken my portable keyboard to Honduras and also to France. Worship music is such an easy way to connect cross-culturally. And it recharges me. 

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Josias realized pretty early on that I wasn't what he expected. Mainly because of my faith. I could tell that my insistence that boy-talk remain "pure" and my answers to the 1000 questions he asked made him think. I'd catch him eyeing m speculatively, as if to ask "Is he for real? Is that what a christian is?" It was a great time of accountability for me. I discovered that there is no greater witness than utter transparency and sincerity.

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The camp lasted about 3 weeks. Always the anticipatory griever I had prepared myself to be a little maudlin for the Final Night's Talent Show and celebration. But Josias suprised me by expressing the same joy and regret that it was over so soon. And who knew when we'd all see each other again.. 

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Emotions ran high as everyone digested the fact that we had become one big family. I can't remember an argument or not wanting to spend extended time with any family there. There were a few tears as we contemplated that night's packing and the next day's hundred goodbyes. Naturally I shed many tears but was a little surprised when the tuff Josias teared up and asked me when I planned to return to France.

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True to form I headed back to our room not long after the goodbye ceremonies. I always need time to process and reflect and frankly to grieve privately so that I am not undone in public. All the high school kids were hangin out somewhere until late so I had the room to myself. 

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Then David wanders in. I was about to make small talk when I noticed he seemed pretty serious. Maybe even troubled. So I asked if something was wrong. His answer and the conversation that followed was and is one of the most significant moments I've ever had as a believer. It was one of the moments you live for as a discipler.

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He said he was actually reflecting on the final message by the conference speaker Gordon. Apparently Gordon had used the bridge diagram to explain how we are separated from God but how only a relationship with Jesus can bridge the gap. He had then gone on to compare our helpless state inof sin to that of a man trapped in a deep well with no hope of climbing out on his own.

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My packing forgotten, I sensed that David was struggling with where he saw himself in those metaphors. So I asked. He said he understood the metaphors and had heard about Jesus for a long time at home but that he was clearly still separated, still trapped in the well.

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I remember bein so aware of the spiritual tension in the room as I tried to discern how far to push the conversation. So much seemed to hang in the balance! Was he ready to move forward or was I just supposed to nudge him closer?

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My gut, or the Holy Spirit, said pto roceed. "What would keep you from accepting Christ right now?"

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I have to let you hear what he said in his own words... He said

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"I know I am like the man trapped in the well but I can't... I don't won't to ask Jesus to pull me out because I am not worthy." 

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I can never get past that response without tears. I believe that because of past rejection he was really afraid to be rejected by God, too. It also indicated a healthy dose of Isaiah's response to the presence of the Almighty. "Woe unto me, I am a man of unclean lips." 

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I pulled myself together and in Holy-Spirit-inspired-French explained how we all are unworthy, which is why Jesus' sacrifice was necessary. His blood covers and cleanses our unworthiness. I explained how I was no stranger to feelings of unworthiness but that every believer had stood exactly where he was now standing. On the brink of a great adventure. But it would require him to make a big step forward, a step that could only be made by taking a leap of faith to trust in Jesus.

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I watched him mull that over and I coud see on his face the resistance melting. Right there in that creaky old bunkhouse, with eyes burning with tears and my heart already full from 3 weeks of joy, I heard David Braesch confess his sins and ask His Savior to forgive him and come into his life. He didn't waste any words but asked the Holy Spirit to guide him and closed with a brief prayer of thanksgiving."

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I remember how surprised his parents were the next day. They thought he was already a believer like themselves. Some of the families had been christians but most were seeking to know more about Christ. The goodbyes were again difficult and were multiplied. I held it together pretty well until Josias' family got ready to leave.  Why are relationships so easy to form but goodbyes so impossibly difficult? He couldn't even speak properly and just cried and hung onto me for a long time.

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That was how I felt about the whole experience that summer. I wanted to hold tight and never let go. 3 weeks was long enough for us to make relationships that will last a lifetime. The Camp was sponsored by the Navigators French Nationals. By the end of our time together they had asked me to seriously consider full-time mission work in France. They were building a new student ministry in Strasbourg on the border with Germany and invited pray about joining them. When they ended up putting together a team inn the fall that didn't include me I was very disappointed. 

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How to return to make disciples in France was still a mystery.

But 2 things were confirmed in my heart :

I longed to see the French come to Christ and God could use me to do it.