the Gospel to the extras in Apocalypse Now…sort of

Remember the scene in Apocalypse Now when Martin Sheen finally locates Marlon Brando, his PT boat cruising down the quiet and misty stream toward that eerie group of zombie-like indigenous tribes people?  Well, the only thing my journey had in common with that classic but uncomfortable Vietnam War film was that they were both set in the beautiful Philippine landscape.  And this time the Filipinos weren’t just extras in a movie.

I accompanied Bryan Martin, our Field Director, and Teng Candelaria, our Team Leader, to a Bible Study a couple of days ago.  I was just getting comfortable in Manila commuting 45 minutes through the most horrendous traffic in the world just to get to meetings only 5 kilometers away.  Now there I was, boarding a rickety fishing boat at the edge of a swamp.

And when I say rickety, I’m talking about a wooden canoe with water sloshing at my feet, it’s long arms skimming the water for balance and strapped together by nylon wire, the whole thing held intact by EPOXY glue.  Its motor was probably built to push a recreational 4-seater vessel, the ones that can get a couple of old, fat guys to the middle of a small lake in Montana to do some lazy fishing.  The boat I was on could transport close to 15 people plus half a dozen bags of rice.

The engine sounded just like the CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters I used to ride around in, hence my flashbacks of war movies set in Asia.  And though the waters were a bit calmer that day, the rainy season waves reminded me of the bumpy helo rides I was accustomed to.  Snaking our way through the swamp was like boarding a boat in Disneyland’s iconic Jungle Cruise, complete with the smart-aleck conductor.  The sounds of wildlife were deafening and I was probably the only one that noticed the crazy bird squawks, insect vibrations and random animal squeals.  It was music to my ears, my real life jungle adventure.

The brown muddy waters of the Mississippi weren’t as dark as the ones we were traveling through.  But after going a good 10 minutes upstream toward the Pacific and out of the swamp, the waters abruptly turned blue…as in aqua, “Blue Lagoon” blue.  Breath taking!  Then another 15-20 minutes as we neared land the ocean transformed into a striking, emerald green blanket floating in the wind.   The tiny island of Panay was getting larger.  And as most islands do, the center of the land mass slowly rose, low lying mountains covered in its own sea of palm trees and other foliage.

In the near distance, several tall plumes of white smoke rose into the sky from within the jungle, garbage and leaves burning themselves away.  I could see a bunch of children running alongside the shore, chasing each other and jumping in and out of other fishing boats.  The motor idled down and eventually the only sound we could hear was the lapping of water on the shore and against the boat.

The missionaries off-loaded first.  Unlike Manila, dozens of kids didn’t swarm around the white man, supposedly rich because of his Western origins.  Bryan didn’t have food, money, toys and other treasures to give out.  The children continued playing, but waved in joy to acknowledge the people who brought to them, for the first time, a much more valuable treasure, the Word of God.

Several of the boatmen followed us as we found a trail leading to the main walkway.  We walked in between huts constructed with palm leaves, bamboo chutes, and plain old wood, all set upon cement foundations.  We even pushed through wet, fragrant lines of laundry.  This particular barrio was nestled at the foothills of the mountainous terrain that occupied the center.  The beautiful palm trees, “clean” red dirt, manicured grass (due to grazing caribou), and breezy afternoon made for a comfortable time of hanging out.  Everyone greeted in excitement (unlike the tribespeople in Apocalypse Now) and many began calling their neighbors out loud notifying them that it was time to study the Bible.

We sat next to one of the leaders of the community.  For half an hour Bryan, Teng and the leader talked about local residents, the welfare of the people, politics, fishery, agriculture and thieves.  Close by, the group gathered anxiously awaiting to begin.

Years ago, when World Team missionaries were told by a local pastor that there was an island with hundreds, maybe thousands of inhabitants that had yet to hear the Gospel, they jumped on it.  Faithfully, year after year and week after week, they made the trip to this coastal town to show the people love and to teach them about God until a house church or “simbaray” was ultimately formed.

I finally took my seat in the group and immediately, one of the wives of the boatmen began the fellowship.  She opened with an introduction and after a time of prayer one of the ladies led everyone in several worship songs, one of which she wrote herself.  Then one of the boatmen continued by instructing us what passage of scripture we would be going through that day.  Spontaneously and randomly, members of the group read the assigned passages.  The boatman asked questions pertaining to the passage and everyone answered, even the men who had a thick presence (a rarity in church culture around the world). This continued for the bulk of the time we were there.  Afterward, the boatman’s wife asked if anyone had anything that needed praying for.  Then we all prayed.

The townsfolk of Babaguan don’t know what a church building is, what a pulpit looks like or what it means for only a few, select people to participate during a worship gathering.  They study Scripture, live out the Gospel and experience a life of joy and abundance in the midst of freeing poverty on an island so remote that the only way to get there is by boat.

Later that afternoon we traveled back through the beautiful Philippine waters with the boatmen.  Their timidity and servitude hid their true leadership abilities.  They joined us for a leader’s meeting in the evening along with about 20 other residents in charge of house churches all over the region.  At just past midnight, when the meeting was coming to a close, I remember looking at the missionaries, smiling and joking in their 3^rd language, perfectly content with the adventure God had placed them in the farthest reaches of the Philippines.  If ever the APOCALYPSE were to happen…let’s say NOW for instance, these Filipinos know exactly where they’ll be…in Jesus’ loving arms.

our move to the island (from a wife and mother)

We’ve made it.  To that place of our long-awaited plans, holding both dread and excitement for my heart.  We’re on the northern curve of an island in the Pacific, one of the furthest reaches of the country of the Philippines.  We’re 2 hours, give or take, from the nearest grocery store, and even that description is being liberal.  There is no real cheese on the island (and I hold firmly to the opinion that calling processed cheese “cheddar” doesn’t count as cheese), and many of the spices I need to make our kitchen table enticing are not available.  Of course, I had all the spices stored and ready for our move, but I forgot to get them, and we didn’t have room in our car for them, anyway.  But that’s just grocery shopping

Our refrigerator isn’t working, although the freezer is, so I’m able to keep from spoiling our meat.  The most dependable way to get it fixed is to pack it in cardboard, load it on a jeepney, and send it down to the capitol (the 2 hour drive), where it will be worked on at a repair shop there.  (Update: the fridge is wrapped in cardboard and waiting on our porch, in hopes that the jeepney, too loaded to take it today, will be able to take it tomorrow.)  Nothing is easy.

I knew that before coming here, which is why I was filled with dread.  What is life going to be like here, where if I don’t cook we won’t eat?  There are no fast options.  Yesterday I made two kinds of bread to figure out which recipe I liked best.  I didn’t like either.  Back to the drawing board.  I’ll probably have to bake bread every other day to keep us stocked.

While all our stuff remains in storage we’re borrowing the home and everything in it of our friends and teammates, the Buursmas.  They’re on home assignment while we get a taste of their life here in Panganiban (which, if that name is too hard for you, can also be called Payo).  They’ve lived here about 6 years and are coming back for another term.  I’m in awe of both they and the Martins, who have stuck it out in a place so far from familiarity and ease.  And while I’m glad for a chance to taste this life, I’m thankful it’s only a taste.  We’re moving to our more permanent location, on the southern part of the island, sometime in April (where there is still no cheese).  For one thing, we’re finally in a place that we can call “home,” even if for a short season, so that I can get our toddler back into a routine and get over some hurdles we’ve had, like a crazy and unsatisfying toddler-led feeding routine (about to change, like, now), and finally getting rid of his pacifier.  Both of which I wasn’t able or willing to deal with during our recent joyful Christmas tumble with family and friends in the States.

So here we are, officially in an “internship” to learn from the team here and see how we can apply some of their strategies to church planting in San Andres.  And while all this adjustment remains a struggle for me emotionally, especially since we’re adjusting right now to something that’s actually temporary, there is a bit of excitement in what we’re doing here.

There’s excitement for our family: yesterday we sandwiched Josiah between us on a moterbike and rode over some coastal mountains to catch a gorgeous jungle view of the ocean.  Then Edwin rode Josiah around on a pedicab bike (both motorbike and pedicab are generously being leant to us by the Buursmas while we’re here), which Josiah loved.  He sat there like a king while his dad peddled him around town.  Not to mention the chickens and roosters that graze casually into our front yard and give Josiah a show.  “Chicken!” he hollers.  (I’m hoping this will be enough for Edwin to give up his dream of us owning our own chickens.)

And then there’s what we’re really here to do, which is impact the community in the love of Jesus Christ.  I’ve been keeping Josiah at home the last few nights while Edwin attends some Bible studies.  I’ll go to some starting next week.  At our breakfast table this morning he told me a story about some of the local believers here:

Religion in the Philippines is a mix of folk religion/superstition and catholocism.  Unfortunately, the truth of Scripture gets diluted and people become misled to believe some things that are not true to any form of Christianity, catholic or protestant.  One of these practices is to keep traveling, seemingly powerful, idols in one’s house.  There is one, called the “Black Rosary,” an image of Mary, which travels around the Philippines.  People are chosen (we don’t know how) to keep this idol in their homes while it travels.  For the local people this is a big honor.  But when this idol came to town, the local believers, who have put their trust in Christ alone, and do not believe these kinds of images hold any power, were faced with a challenge.  One family was chosen to keep the idol in her home.  She decided against it, and faced persecution.  Many people couldn’t believe she would deny such an honor.  For others, it was as if she was denying hospitality to their mother.  How could she tell “Mama Mary” she wasn’t welcome here?  And one family, who was attending the Bible study of this woman, was forbidden by their mother to attend any longer.  They quit coming and since then their brother has been demon possessed.  Likely, the family believes the Bible study put a curse on the man.  But we believe that instead, the family chose to continue in the darkness of idol worship, and the result has been that that darkness has moved in.

That is the kind of spiritual struggle that exists in this place.  It is into that spiritual atmosphere that we’ve come to proclaim:

“He (God) has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”  -Colossians 1:13

a motorcycle-Bible study education

It was bound to happen.  Before Kuya Bert plopped his rear behind me on the motorcycle I communicated my uncertainty with a bewildered facial expression and reminded everyone that I wasn’t an avid rider.  Heck, I could barely truck Josiah around on the little pedicap of a bike that Tom left behind for us.  So when Bert finally got situated with a guitar strapped to his back and both arms thoroughly occupied with Bible Study materials, my butt cheeks perked up in fear of what was probably going to happen to the both of us.

“Lord help us!” he laughed.  And off I went, almost sending Bert flying backwards with my unexpectedly quick and not necessarily under-control start.  We sped down the gravel dirt road as I tried my best to keep up with the other two motorcycles.  For the most part, my novice ability on that little Honda bike wasn’t very obvious…until it started raining.  And I mean monsoon rain.  Rain so hard that I couldn’t keep my eyelids open.  The other teammates stopped to put on raincoats.  When they realized I didn’t have one they suggested we stop and hang out under someone’s porch or a tree.  But we were out in the middle of rice fields so I stubbornly decided to press forward just as long as Bert didn’t mind.

And of course he didn’t.  He was a leather-necked, industrious worker who spent much of his life in those fields.  His brown, tough skin somehow masked his age.  Quite backwards however because he looked younger, rather than older (a usual side effect of too much sun exposure), appearing middle aged as opposed to well past retirement, his true stage of life.  “Forward march!” he yelled, so I continued, splashing through mud holes and stumbling on large stones.

The rain fell harder and the road more unmanageable for a beginner like me.  Trickles of water turned into streams as the land snaked its way upward into the hilly terrain and then quickly down again flattening out into wide open spaces fit for crops of rice.  A jungle roller coaster.  Suddenly, our trail shot up and curved to the left.  I was having trouble downshifting because I’m just not that coordinated and quick yet.  The bike couldn’t handle going up that hill on 3^rd gear…I couldn’t find 2^nd…somehow I skipped and went straight to 1^st…and the bike went flying from underneath me…my hand idiotically still revving on the gas.  Bert managed to literally jump off of the out-of-control bike as if he were playing a game of Leap Frog.  He stayed on his feet, wet as a dog, guitar still strapped and Bible study materials still firmly grasped.  The sudden lightened load helped a ton and instead of flying off the 20-foot drop off and into a flooded plain of crops, I miraculously found my balance and kept my butt on the seat.  The locals were watching the whole event…embarrassing.

Bert ran to where I stopped, jumped back on the bike and yelled, “Forward!” as if what just happened was as normal as the caribou poking its head into one of the houses to the right of us.  I wish I could say that was the last near-death experience, but several times the motorcycle slipped in mud sending the rear wheel out of control and almost fishtailing erratically enough to knock us to the ground.  One time I came within inches of slipping off of the trail and down one of the high drop offs.  And each time, the only sound that Bert made was, “Whoooops!”

But we made it to the little gathering place, a multipurpose shack with a tin roof overlooking the valley.  Bert went from house to house inviting whomever he could.  The other guy tuned his guitar, while another one texted would-be attenders (quite odd to see people texting in such a rural area).  Finally, a group of youth arrived and God took over.

These rough, truly manly men led prayer, worship and then the Bible study itself.  The teens discovered new attributes of Jesus Christ on their own through the Scripture they were reading.  I’m quite used to elders preaching up a storm, but not today.  These men taught the youth how to discover truths in the Bible for themselves…no preaching.

Watching a 3 year old sit on a hard wooden bench and engage with 7 year olds, 18 year olds and 60 year olds is a remarkable sight.  That’s what these guys were taught to do and it’s why so many people have now heard the hope of the Gospel.  These men first heard the Gospel themselves almost a decade before from some World Team missionaries.  Now, here I was, learning from those early converts about planting house churches that multiplied into other house churches all over the region.

Amy and I are on an unofficial internship for the next 3 months learning from the missionaries and the local Filipino believers.  Everyday is a brand new learning experience out here, in ministry and in motorcycle riding.

moving to an island…

January 8, 2012

Jem and I arrived in Virac, Catanduanes early in the morning but not before a pretty arduous journey.  After getting a couple of hours of sleep from our travels the day before, his father drove us from Naga City to the port of Tabaco at about 12:30am.  It would have been a treacherous drive had I been the one driving.  Jem’s father knows the roads well and is experienced driving in heavy rains (without the aide of street lights at that!).  It was pitch black out, which is why we actually did manage to get lost, in spite of our driver’s excellent navigational skills.

We made it to the port just before 4am.  I was stressed and anxious, trying my best to recite Philippians 4:6-7.  Though I’ve taken the ferry once before, bringing a car onboard was a whole other ball game.  After falling into numerous lines filled with crowds of people furiously pushing each other to purchase tickets to the last boat departing before the world sank into the ocean, I finally found someone who gave us proper directions.  An hour later, several cash exchanges and numerous forms to fill out, we finally parked my vehicle in front of the gate.

The rain poured harder and I was still stressed out because the guards were letting in other vehicles before mine.  What if I didn’t get my car onboard?  Then came the onslaught of passengers loading the boat.  Chaos I tell you.  I was a squeaky wheel, annoying the crud out of the dock supervisor but it paid off and I finally drove my car onto the ship…slipping and sliding.  The waves decided that they were angry and pounded the boat, making for a nerve-racking experience.

After paying about 35 bucks for my boarding pass and the car fee, we pushed our way through the multitudes and into the air-conditioned section of the ferry.  It cost about $1.50 more but meant the difference between being sandwiched among scores of seasick passengers and having your own cushioned bench to sprawl yourself on and fall asleep.  Kind of like sitting in first class on a plane…it separated those who had means from those just getting by.  But trust me, first class accommodations it was not!  To be honest, for the average islander, $1.50 can feed a family of four so why would they frivolously spend money for comfort.  I felt a bit guilty at first, but I admit, my seasickness got the best of me and I quickly turned to survival mode and cherished the above average accommodations.

Normally, it would take 3 and half hours to get to Virac from Tabaco.  Due to the crummy weather and tumultuous waves it took us over 5 hours.  Barf!  Seriously, the waves were so high everyone was throwing up.

I was asleep and failed to hear the announcement that all drivers had to be in the loading bay 15 minutes before arrival.  With the vehicles in the way, the passengers can’t get out.  So there I was, stuck at the very top level of the ferry.  My car was three levels down and there were hundreds of people in my way…none of whom had the opportunity to get out because my car was literally the front vehicle blocking the way of everyone and everything!

The announcer came on again, this time mad as a dog demanding that, “the driver of the Toyota Carollo must move his car!”  Jem snaked his way through first with my car keys.  He’s half my size and didn’t have the massive backpack I was carrying.  But he didn’t know how to drive!  So everyone waited as I pushed my way through.  People were angry, calling me “baldy, stupid and annoying” wondering why I didn’t follow directions.  It was a cultural experience I never want to go through ever again.

After finally getting into my vehicle, the crew directed my movement off the ship.  The bus in front of me was fishtailing because of the wet floors.  So was mine, so the crew laid out some rope for my car to grab traction on.  I couldn’t understand their language…quite different from Tagalog.  But I could understand their tone of voice screaming, “Go forward, turn your wheel like this, stop…you’re going to get us killed!”  The waves forcing the plank to go up and down like a roller coaster was terrifying.  But I finally got off the ship.

After bottoming out, scraping my muffler in front of a large crowd and enduring their chuckling and heckling (directed toward the obvious out-of-towner), I sped my way down a one-way street, going the wrong way.  I was so frustrated that I almost jumped for joy after seeing the brand new addition to the island: a Jolibee restaurant…the restaurant I loathe the most in the entire world…but a restaurant to find refuge in.

My first day on the island.

Driving my car to the island…

It’s 7pm.  I’ve been up since 3am, out and driving since 4:30am.  Not a big deal unless you’ve only been sleeping a few hours a day dealing with jetlag and an equally frustrated child.  We arrived in the Philippines a couple of days ago.  Shortly after getting supplies ready, we packed up and I left for the 2-day ordeal of getting to the small island of Catanduanes.  Amy will be leaving on Monday, flying out with Josiah.

Jem and I just arrived in Naga City.  It was a ten-hour drive.  Jem has been a lifesaver, being a native Bicolano.  I feel safe with him as the navigator, even though we still got lost.  It could’ve been a much shorter trip but I missed one pesky little right turn.  That cost us 2 incredibly demanding hours.  And now I’m sitting in the lobby of a cheesy hotel, half-awake but too tired to sleep in my creepy closet space of a room.

Let me say this.  Our drive was the most spectacular and beautiful road trip I have ever taken…and I’ve done a ton of driving and traveling around the world.  The Bicol region of the Philippines is gorgeous.  Except for uncountable near death, head on collisions, I enjoyed our trip.

I guess I’ll turn in.  I have to be up at 1am to drive to the port of Tabaco, 2-3 hours away.  We’ve got to get my car loaded up on the ferry and sail for several hours before landing in unfamiliar territory.  Let’s see what happens.

Give us strength oh Lord!

California Dreaming

When we arrived in Oceanside, California the night before Thanksgiving, we hit the ground running.  I mean, by the time we left we had fulfilled over 26 appointments.  That doesn’t include preaching at New Song Community Church 5 times in 2 days (see previous video post), speaking to the youth ministry one evening and reporting to the congregation of Oceanside Community Church for a Sunday service.  Steve and Suzanne Duntley blessed us with a place to stay.  They pulled up their massive, luxury RV…equipped in a fashion that outdid our living situation in the Philippines!  Debbie Hayward lent us her brand new Toyota Camry.  (Sidenote:  We were hit by a car who ran a stop sign.  Thank goodness for USAA insurance.)  And our brothers and sisters in Christ made sure that our bellies were stuffed the entire time we were there.  When  God provides, He provides abundantly.

I (Edwin) tell people that, for us, living anywhere outside of Oceanside is a result of obeying God, not a personal decision.  I consider it my hometown even though I wasn’t born there.  If you know my story, you would understand why I say I was raised there.  My spiritual family resides in that area.  I had a blast being involved in ministry in years past and there is certainly no abundance of workers, so it would be easy to make a life there as ministers.  And Amy worked hard and waited years to return after leaving as a teenager.  We fell in love and were married in that great city.  Again I say, we are following God’s call on our lives, not our simple desires.  Oh Oceanside, we miss you already.

Anyways, after almost 10 days in the most beautiful city in the world, we took a road trip up Interstate 5 and headed for the Bay Area.  The day before leaving, my brother flew down to LA to hang out with us and to join us on the trip up.  Bonding time.  It was awesome.  My brother lives in Oakland…it’s cold there in the winter, especially if you’re coming from the Philippines.  So is San Francisco.  But it was a chill that Amy and I enjoyed.  We met with a ton of family members, enjoyed more Filipino food than we were used to eating (and remember, we live in the Philippines!), and took tons of pictures.

Amy and I will be involved in missions for the rest of our lives.  However, we don’t know how long we’re going to be on the mission field.  We may one day be called to the San Francisco Bay Area.  Lord knows they need Jesus.  After spending time in that part of California I realized that life there would be hard both emotionally and financially.  It would have to be an unusually strong call/shove from the Lord to take us there because like I said, Oceanside, California is the dream.

We left after a week there and are now in Mississippi for the remainder of our vacation…

Through Josiah’s Eyes – Ministry in the Philippines

We created this video for our supporting churches.  It’s a fun video that Josiah narrates (actually it’s Amy).

When Humiliation Transforms

I was given the privilege to speak at New Song Community Church this past weekend. Here is the video of the service. Praise the Lord!

We’re looking for teammates!

Edwin just returned from the National Assembly of the Philippine Council of Evangelical Churches (PCEC).  While there, he was encouraged and challenged by Filipino leaders from all kinds of denominations, organizations, and initiatives.  We feel more confirmation than ever before that our main job in the Philippines is going to be mobilization…of Filipinos.

We are getting ready to move to a small island with one Filipino on our team, but we are praying for more, because our hope is that we will not be in the “front” of this ministry at all, but that the leadership will from the start be Filipino.  Our goal: start a church planting work that can be used to mentor and train missions-minded Filipinos so that if they do church plant overseas or in another province, they have practical experience in church planting and cross-cultural ministry (because a city Filipino going to the province is definitely cross-cultural!).  So I’ve begun praying, almost constantly, for at least one married couple to join us to be our team leaders.  And of course we desire more singles to join the team, as well!

Lord God, we believe you gave us this vision for a mobilizing church plant, and so we ask you to make it happen, for Your glory!  And!  Please give us Filipino leaders so we can get out of the way and put our efforts where they are most effective (training and mobilizing).

Please pray with us.  And if you know a Filipino (single or married) who is praying about serving God as a missionary, direct them to us!

~a

The Technohub Project!

We’re only months from launching this new church!  Check out this teaser video and get excited!  Super, duper excited.  It was done by one of our core team members, Keng Arreola.