DAY TWO: A Honduran Traffic Jam and Other Holy Interruptions

There are moments when traveling to another country reminds you just how little control you actually have.

Schedules become suggestions. Traffic doesn't always move. Plans change without warning. And if you're the kind of person who likes knowing exactly what's coming next, those little interruptions have a way of exposing what's really happening inside your heart.

Isaiah 41:10 isn't simply a verse for life's biggest crises. It's a promise for all the ordinary moments when we discover that we're not nearly as in control as we imagined.

"Do not fear, for I am with you... I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

Yesterday, on the drive back from the airport, I watched people along the roadside going about their day. At first glance they seemed incredibly busy without appearing to accomplish much of anything.

Then it hit me.

The problem wasn't them.

It was me. I had absolutely no context for what I was seeing. Their lives operate on a rhythm so different from mine that my mind automatically filled in the blanks. Sometimes "busy" is just another way of saying, "I don't understand what's happening."

A few hours later, Josh gently turned that same observation back on us.

Before our nightly debrief, about a dozen of us sat around staring at our phones. From the outside we probably looked incredibly productive, answering emails, sending texts, wearing serious expressions, scrolling with purpose. But if someone had asked what we were actually accomplishing...

The truth is, appearances can be deceiving. Looking busy isn't an American thing or a Honduran thing. It's a people thing.

This morning, on our way to the build site, God gave us another reminder that our plans aren't always the ones that set the pace. We encountered what can only be described as a Honduran traffic jam.

Here, the vehicle is negotiable. It might be an ox cart. It might be a horse. It might be a herd of cows that has unanimously decided, "We're not feeling it today."

In our case, it was a wooden cart pulled by two extremely unwilling cows, guided by a young man who couldn't have been older than twenty. He was doing everything he could to convince them that joining morning traffic was a perfectly reasonable idea. However, the cows had formed a committee and voted "no."

What followed was a full-scale bovine meltdown. Dust flew. Hooves scrambled. The young man shouted and poked, meanwhile our vans sat patiently while everyone involved tried to negotiate with two animals that clearly hadn't read the day's itinerary. And if you've never been delayed by a cow having an emotional crisis, you're missing out on a truly international experience.

It's funny how quickly an unexpected interruption can test our patience. Yet every delay became another quiet reminder that Isaiah 41:10 doesn't promise we'll always stay on schedule.

It promises something far better. Wherever the road leads—and however slowly we get there—the Lord is with us.

Eventually we made it to the build site and for a few moments there were two groups studying one another. On one side stood Honduran builders who could probably frame a house before breakfast. On the other stood a team of Americans, several of whom hadn't swung a hammer since the Clinton administration.

The awkwardness didn't last long. Finally, someone picked up a tool. Someone else smiled. A few jokes were exchanged and before long, we weren't two teams anymore, we were one.

The building materials are simple by American standards, but they're exactly what's needed here. Scott and Mark McKain quickly became our construction professors as post-hole diggers and spud bars went to work.

What looks like a modest home to us represents something life-changing to the family receiving it. Most families wait nearly three years, first purchasing land and then patiently waiting for their opportunity. They're not looking for a handout. They're investing in a future.

Later, Kim pointed out house after house built by previous mission teams.

What caught my attention wasn't the houses. It was the life around them. Children creating games out of almost nothing, chickens wandering through the yards, dogs napping in the shade and constantly scanning for morsels of potential food.

Three generations no longer trying to fit under one roof. A new house isn't just more space. It's dignity. It's hope. It's room for a family to breathe. That's worth building.

Later that evening we worshiped with the church in Guaimaca. One gentleman arrived on horseback. He tied his horse outside the same way you or I would park a pickup truck, dusted himself off, and walked into church without a second thought. Meanwhile, I've been known to grumble because I had to park in the second row.

Perspective is a wonderful and occasionally uncomfortable teacher.

Several members of our team shared the story of David y el gigante. The children were captivated, laughing through games and an army of balloon animals.

Also during the service, something beautiful happened. Our team began singing familiar worship songs that even the Hondruans would know. The Honduran church joined in. Different languages. Much different backgrounds, but One Savior worthy of the adoration and worship.

For a few moments, heaven felt very close.

Mark McKain then preached from Isaiah 41:10: "Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand."

Before the service, we gathered around Mark to pray. Even experienced speakers feel the weight of opening God's Word, and they should. There is a holy dependence that comes with preaching.

Then, as he prepared to speak he was hit with a realization that his reading glasses were gone. Back at the compound? The coffee shop? Somewhere along the road?

We had no idea.

What we did know was that his sermon notes were suddenly very difficult to read. But as he began to preach, something remarkable happened. He discovered he didn't need the glasses nearly as much as he thought he did. The God he was preaching about was already doing exactly what He had promised. "I will strengthen you."

Later, after a stop to find relief from a lot of coffee and water, the glasses were found. They were lying in the hard-packed dirt of the coffee shop parking lot, nestled between tire tracks.

Completely untouched. They hadn't been crushed. They had simply been waiting to be found. It struck me that God was never searching for those glasses. We were.

The Lord hadn't misplaced a thing. In fact what Mark discovered was an opportunity to continue to live in the Truth of which he was speaking. We cannot TRUST GOD fully and completely if we contstantlyfind ourselves as the hero of the stroy that's being written. There are going to be uncomfortbal Memomens in which the ONLY option is to trust. And maybe that's why Isaiah 41:10 has echoed in our hearts all day before this message was even preached. God never promised a life without surprises. He promised His presence. He never said we'd always know where we're going. He said, "I am with you." He never guaranteed we'd have everything we think we need.

He promised, "I will strengthen you... I will help you... I will hold on to you."

Sometimes God allows us to arrive at the edge of our own ability so we'll finally discover where His begins. The greatest miracle wasn't that a pair of glasses was found. It was that, for a little while, a servant of God learned he could trust the One who sees perfectly.

And maybe that's what all of today has been teaching me.

Whether it's a traffic jam caused by stubborn cows...

A house built one post at a time...

Or a forgotten pair of glasses in a dusty parking lot...

The Lord has been saying the same thing over and over:

"Do not fear... for I am with you."

Until All Have Heard,

Pastor Mark