Written by, J. Ellis – Woodmen Valley Chapel:

“So Dan, do we need to bring any rain clothes?”

“Absolutely not. We are entering into the dry season and bringing rain clothes will only take up additional space in your luggage and will weigh you down!”

You get one guess what greeted us today as we started our first day of work? Rain! And I don’t mean rain, I mean RAIN, the type of weather where you have to ring out your bones in order to get dry.

That’s the funny thing about mission work: you can prepare and plan to the best of your ability but the only thing you can really expect is the unexpected.

I would say that one word–unexpected–best captures our experience today. After a long day of travel yesterday and an early start to our day today, we were confronted with the unexpected at every turn.

We made an hour long commute through communities devastated by generations of economic and spiritual depression. As we were driving I had to remind myself that I wasn’t watching a movie, that what I was seeing was the everyday-reality of literally millions of Hondurans, each of whom is precious to the Father.

We came here with hearts ready to confront extreme poverty but are finding that it is us who is being confronted. Unexpected. We prepared ourselves for the hopelessness of the orphans but have found the children to be anything but hopeless–they are loving, engaging, playful, hard working, and filled with hope and dreams for their future. Unexpected.

The amount of need is beyond measure. If I allow my heart to go where the reality of Honduras leads it I am quickly overwhelmed by the size of the task relative to available resources. One of the discussions that ensued after the drive was how impactful our work really could be; is it more than just a drop in the bucket?

We are a team of earnest workers who will put our heart and soul in to our work here (roofing, sifting sand, installing concreted fencing, etc.). We believe deeply in what we are doing. But we know that our time here is short and that when we return the to the predictability of our lives back home the need will remain in Honduras.

What we are helping to build is a sanctuary, a place of reprieve and refuge for children who if not for the work of Hogar Esperanza would otherwise be cast aside and almost assuredly be given over to the perpetual cycle of violence and crime that dominates life here. The village we are helping to build is still in its infancy, so we have had to use our imagination in visualizing what the property will eventually look like. Where we see steel framed buildings and uncleared fields today we know that someday soon we will be looking at homes and classrooms and churches and soccer fields where children will laugh and play and be drawn closer the the heart of God.

Yes, it might only be a drop in the bucket but each drop represents a heart beat, a smile, a life of purpose. We are here as seed planters and will likely never see the fruit that is produced but find comfort in trusting that the faithfulness of God far exceeds our labor and will be seen to completion.

We were comforted by the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 3:5-9 when he says: “What, after all is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe–as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.”

As much as our hearts break and as much as our minds wonder, we come to a place of appropriate resting, namely, that the work, from its beginning to its end, rests with and in God! He is the author, He is the refiner, He is the harvester. In His great wisdom and compassion He chooses us to be His hands and feet on earth, He calls us to be his fellow laborers.

This is a high privilege, a high honor, and, I can promise you from our vantage point, is unexpected.

Author: Josh Ellis, Woodmen Valley Chapel