Everyone told me I would love it…and I did. From the moment I first received the invitation to go to Honduras, I was looking forward to my mission trip with the Friends of Barnabas Foundation. But, I have to admit that, going in, I doubted I would love Honduras as much as I do Cuba (where I’ve been four times). But, I was wrong.
God, it seems, has given me a real heart for Latin America, Spanish-speaking people, and Hispanic cultures in general. That was affirmed once again on this trip. It all started several years ago in Florida, when God led my church there to establish a Spanish-language congregation as an extension of our ministry. And in subsequent years, it expanded to include a direct mission partnership with a sister church in Havana. (By the way, one of my goals at Mount Hermon is ultimately to establish a vibrant Southern Baptist Hispanic work in Pittsylvania County. God is bringing the world to the Danville area and we need to minister to the mission field He is putting before us. But that’s another blog for another day!)
Honduras is primarily a mountainous country, its scenic terrain reminiscent of my native Appalachia. In contrast to my mission work in Cuba—which has taken place primarily in the context of urban Havana—our ministry settings in Honduras were purely rural. As we traversed the Honduran countryside, we took some long treks by bus on rugged mountain roads to remote villages at high elevations. Some of the stops we made reminded me of places I’d been long ago in my home state of Kentucky.
God, it seems, has given me a real heart for Latin America, Spanish-speaking people, and Hispanic cultures in general. That was affirmed once again on this trip. It all started several years ago in Florida, when God led my church there to establish a Spanish-language congregation as an extension of our ministry. And in subsequent years, it expanded to include a direct mission partnership with a sister church in Havana. (By the way, one of my goals at Mount Hermon is ultimately to establish a vibrant Southern Baptist Hispanic work in Pittsylvania County. God is bringing the world to the Danville area and we need to minister to the mission field He is putting before us. But that’s another blog for another day!)
Honduras is primarily a mountainous country, its scenic terrain reminiscent of my native Appalachia. In contrast to my mission work in Cuba—which has taken place primarily in the context of urban Havana—our ministry settings in Honduras were purely rural. As we traversed the Honduran countryside, we took some long treks by bus on rugged mountain roads to remote villages at high elevations. Some of the stops we made reminded me of places I’d been long ago in my home state of Kentucky.One day our bus arduously climbed a steep, deeply rutted mountain road, rarely able to exceed ten miles per hour. We crossed six rocky creek beds along the way. As we made our ascent, the road was one lane virtually all the way, with no room to pass, and sometimes a steep drop off on one side. (There are no such things as guard rails in Honduras.) At one point a huge rock got wedged between two of our tires, and we had to hammer it out in order to proceed. By the time we finally reached our destination—a surprisingly spacious plateau near the top of the high mountain—we found a small village with a rustic school, a tiny Catholic church, several modest homes, and a host of people. How (and why) in the world did these people settle here? I wondered. I mean, how on earth did they even find this place? Surely, God alone must have put them here!
On two other days we traveled by boat across a large lake in order to reach our destination, twenty four of us squeezing into two motor boats. The lake had been created by the El Cajón Dam, which was completed in 1985.
(I was told that this large hydroelectric dam provides approximately half of the electric power for all of Central America!) As we traveled along the lake, it brought back memories of my dad and me fishing out on Norris Lake in East Tennessee when I was a boy. Norris Dam was built in the 1930s during the Roosevelt Administration as part of the newly created Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA). The TVA revitalized East Tennessee, providing electric power to the region and harnessing the destructive rivers that had long plagued isolated mountain communities. That’s the same thing that the El Cajón project—some 50 years later—had done for this region in Honduras. As I cruised along the lake, I reflected on the fact that we here in the United States, though we may not fully realize it, are really not all that far removed from the lifestyle of present-day Hondurans. For I can see that there are a lot of similarities between their way of life and the simple rural life my own grandparents knew just some 50 to 75 years ago.
Visiting Honduras reminded me of the old adage that sometimes “less is more.” In other words, the Honduran people we met did not have much in the way of material possessions, but there was an unrushed simplicity to their lives that was refreshing. They generally are a humble & thankful people, possessing an open & friendly spirit without any air of pretense. Clearly, they work hard, love & provide for their families as best they can, and appreciate every kindness shown them, no matter how small. While they were grateful for all we did for them, our team members felt we were the ones most blessed.
On two other days we traveled by boat across a large lake in order to reach our destination, twenty four of us squeezing into two motor boats. The lake had been created by the El Cajón Dam, which was completed in 1985.
(I was told that this large hydroelectric dam provides approximately half of the electric power for all of Central America!) As we traveled along the lake, it brought back memories of my dad and me fishing out on Norris Lake in East Tennessee when I was a boy. Norris Dam was built in the 1930s during the Roosevelt Administration as part of the newly created Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA). The TVA revitalized East Tennessee, providing electric power to the region and harnessing the destructive rivers that had long plagued isolated mountain communities. That’s the same thing that the El Cajón project—some 50 years later—had done for this region in Honduras. As I cruised along the lake, I reflected on the fact that we here in the United States, though we may not fully realize it, are really not all that far removed from the lifestyle of present-day Hondurans. For I can see that there are a lot of similarities between their way of life and the simple rural life my own grandparents knew just some 50 to 75 years ago.
Visiting Honduras reminded me of the old adage that sometimes “less is more.” In other words, the Honduran people we met did not have much in the way of material possessions, but there was an unrushed simplicity to their lives that was refreshing. They generally are a humble & thankful people, possessing an open & friendly spirit without any air of pretense. Clearly, they work hard, love & provide for their families as best they can, and appreciate every kindness shown them, no matter how small. While they were grateful for all we did for them, our team members felt we were the ones most blessed.In a few days, I’ll be back with more thoughts about Honduras.
Pastor Danny
Pastor Danny
