masterworks.

the evening before a mountain hike with the el refugio interns, luis, a co-worker, and i hiked much of the way up the mountain we were to summit the following morning. for fun, and to acclimatize myself to the higher elevation. and when the light grew dim and we decided to return, he suggested we spend some time in silence and prayer before descending. alone, i realized how incredibly quiet it was at 13,000+ feet. as in, when people use the term ‘deafening silence’, it was weirdly true. no wind, no animal sounds, no human noises, no planes, only a vast emptiness that strangely filled my ears. and the pink glow of the sunset bathing the clouds. i don’t know the last time i had experienced such quiet, for even on other hikes to similar heights there was always wind or friends or the bubbling hiss of a volcanic cauldron. of course i think of elijah on the mountain and God being in the stillness, but i’m still not exactly sure what to think about that incredible silence other than simply enjoy its memory and share that with you. i am trying, in the midst of busy-ness and bustle, to hold on to that stillness, carry it with me, a reminder of some permeating peace, of His presence.


as much of my job currently is preparing for things – classes, leading interns, working with communities – i do a lot or research and reading. of course i am in no way angry about this. but the office gets stuffy (mentally, not temperaturely speaking; it’s very cold in there). and so i go on walks around the property, traversing miles of paths using peripheral vision as i read, stopping occasionally to take notes, jot down thoughts, etc. and occasionally my head is up, out of the book, and i observe, listen, think. i find myself thinking about future possibilities, things to build or improve, projects and programs that could be done in some possible future. i think about telling the director, jim, about these things, but hold off. for in our world today, i realize there may never be a future in which any of the normal activities of hacienda el refugio are ever again realized in the same way, let alone some new, half-baked idea i have.

our extended ecuador team recently had a virtual meeting with the president of our organization, which, though full of tales of struggle of this difficult year, was also, strangely, full of hope. as much in the wider realm of ministry has been ended or at least put on indefinite hold, much else has been able to grow. i shared the sentiment that it is hard to know how to progress when the future is so unsure. the point was made that some great ministries have been born out of adversity. when we are challenged beyond our comfortable ministry boxes, good things can happen. often we have a structure and a fairly clear destination, but the structure now is just continual creativity and a specific destination is unknown, beyond those grander goals that guide us.

as i ponder this all and my own role in making new things happen, coming into a ministry world hindered by social and safety restraints, i am reminded of the old community development adage that the process is as important as the product. and in Christ we are to remain faithful to the process, to the work of the Kingdom, to following Christ Himself. as the farmer ‘does not know how’ the seed grows, but grow it does (mark 4:26-29). i think of this also in terms of the adventure/experiential/outdoor ministry i am now a part of. the teams and camps and groups were all cancelled this summer, but that doesn’t mean nothing important happened in the lives of the ten interns we have been able to host this fall. on that before-mentioned hike to the summit of one of the lesser mountains with the interns, there were some difficult sections. and we put one foot in front of the other, guided each other over the tricky rocks. and we at times rested and talked and processed the experience, and at the very least shared something challenging together. the journey itself had meaning, and would still have had meaning even if a storm had swept in and denied us access to the summit. this is being faithful to the process, to the call, no matter what happens. for truly much ministry has been hobbled by the pandemic, but that doesn’t mean we stop thinking, trying, going somewhere. all that to say, it was very encouraging to hear from all the other ministry members in ecuador and how their ministries continue to grow and adapt.

thus we wait, true (hopefully) to a process, to the overarching goals of the Kingdom, to loving as He loved us, to following Christ, and to pointing others to Him. and if we cannot realize the grand designs for which we had hoped, let us remain faithful in doing small things with great love, and to know that, whatever happens, He is with us.