DAY FIVE: “He Spoke from a Scar: When 60 Soldiers Met the Gospel in Honduras”

"Even the Cows Complain Less"

Each morning starts in a similar way. The cool of the morning slowly reveals itself as locals make their way towards unseen destinations carrying a small sack of food or product for the market in a small plastic tubs. Some on foot, others on bike, in groups of two enjoying the somber of morning or by themselves. Larger loads are pulled by horses that look long past usefulness or even larger loads pull by oxen yoked together like what we saw on the way to picking up passengers for church.

Cassidy, shaking his head and half-laughing, said what a lot of us had been thinking: “Even the cows complain less.” Back home in Ohio, the cows bellow if their grain is even just 30 minutes late spoiled by routine and used to comfort. But here? Not a murmur. Not from the animals. Not from the people. No grumbling about the pace, the burden, or the heat. Just quiet resolve, a kind of gratitude we don’t always recognize until we’re confronted with it face to face.

This morning we bounced along narrow roads just 32 inches wider on each side (at times) than the width of the bus giving the appearance of going much faster than it seemed, or were we actually going that fast? I think if you asked those aboard the swift flying trademark yellow bluebird school bus, they would heartily agree that just because it has the ability to go that fast, doesn’t mean it should be going THAT fast.

We pause long enough to gather additional passengers, or to use a three way intersection to make a 7 point turn in the narrow roadway. Still, our driver navigated potholes, tight turns, ox carts, and motorcycles with the precision of a Formula 1 racer… if Formula 1 were sponsored by duct tape and prayer.

Upon our return we were greeted by festive music pouring from the speakers in the church building and the excited chatter of congregants who haven’t talked in a while. And the 10 began promptly on Honduran time whenever those who were in attendance were “ready”.

God uses each person not as they are ready, but as He is ready to use them. A theme that is played over and again in each context. This morning Elaine was asked to teach the ladies Sunday School class and Jacob plays at impromptu role in tying together thoughts and Biblical ideas in the men’s class. In the teen class Rowyn Wharton (here for an internship) offers to he.p translate words at times since we are running short on interpreters for the American team. Tony does well, but is thankful for the reluctant teen’s additions.

Church is a celebration of Spanish and English worship, reading of the Word and preaching as nations joined by continents of North American and Central America come together to worship pour Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. No matter where I have been in the world, there is a service format that seems to work in every context and none are especially unique in implementation but all are unique in expression. This morning is no exception and so even though we are unaware of what to expect, we are not surprised as the service unfolds that it is somehow familiar.

A word is brought from Mark 10 about Blind Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus may have been blind, but he saw what the crowd couldn’t, that Jesus was the Messiah, and mercy was within reach. While others tried to silence him, he cried louder, threw off his old life, and ran straight to the only One who could truly heal him. In the end, he didn’t just receive sight he also received a new life, and chose to follow Jesus wherever the road would lead. (Now THAT’S following in it’s truest sense.)

After church we had a fantastic lunch of faire grown locally and prepared by diligent hands that kept themselves busy preparing food since breakfast. Ladies who take as much pride in their preparation as as any artisan in their respective craft would receive. Simple, delicious, and filling and usually with the thought of, I’m still full from the last meal so I’ll just have a little.

After lunch we prepare for ministry at the military base. A special operations unit that teaches Honduran Soldiers special weapons and tactics. 5 different schools in total at one location in a base called Ejercito. It’s a somber moment as the men file in, welcoming a break from their training. There are about 60 soldiers who respectfully make their way through the American team which is playing pool, foosball, or chatting idly as we wait. This afternoon we have one team member who felt most like he could connect with these men and share his story in such a way as to draw them closer to a knowledge of Christ. We pray, sing songs but no soldier has yet shown much emotion or slightest shift. They are quiet and respectful but underhandedly unemotional.

As Cassidy lays out the Gospel it is beuatiully woven through his own story of service in Iraq and testimony of losing brothers at arms and hardship at the frontlines of a foreign war there is something that resonates with the men. A respect and awe of one who can relate to what they fear most, active combat. Many of these men may never see active combat, but the idea of war hangs like a distant shadow. Cassidy had walked through that shadow and come out bearing hope. He spoke of a Savior who offers peace deeper than any battlefield can destroy. And as he spoke, something shifted.

During the worship time that followed, we saw what words cannot fully capture…arms once folded now gently lifting in worship. Small gestures, but full of meaning. The kind of response you don’t force…it’s born of connection, trust, and reverence.

The service ends and the men shake his hand and thank him as they leave. The tense looks are all but gone, the reservedness replaced with quiet contemplation. Towards the end several of the officers salute Boardman in a gesture of respect for what has been shared. The older men know the truth of the hardships that he has experienced and themselves are able to connect with what they men hope to avoid. But the Word does not return void and each man now carries a seed fHope that has been planted skillfully in their hearts by the Holy Spirit through a man willing to lay it on the line. It may have seen that this was delivered easily, but this kind of vulnerability always comes at a cost that he is willing to bear in order to bring Hope.

God doesn’t wait for polished sermons or perfect timing. He moves through availability. Today was living proof. Cassidy didn’t preach from a pulpit—he spoke from a scar. And somehow, that raw honesty broke through the walls of even the most guarded soldiers.

So often we disqualify ourselves because we’re nervous, underprepared, or uncomfortable. We think God is waiting on our perfection but He’s also just waiting on our yes. Again and again, He chooses the unsure, the untrained, the unlikely. Why? Because when ordinary people step into extraordinary moments, only one name gets the glory.

We’ve seen it this week in Cassidy’s courageous vulnerability, in Rowyn translating when we ran out of words, in Elaine teaching without much notice, Lexi bravely sharing her heart to a room full of strangers. None of them signed up to be the spotlight. But when the Spirit nudged, they stepped forward. And in a place where “even the cows complain less,” we’re reminded that worship isn’t always loud. Sometimes it looks like showing up early, sweating in silence, and saying “yes” when the opportunity surprises you.

It’s the same story we saw in Bartimaeus. He wasn’t on anyone’s list. He wasn’t quiet or composed. He just cried out. And Jesus stopped everything for one desperate voice.

The takeaway? God responds to the cry…and He uses the willing. Not the polished. Not the perfect. Just the ones who say, “Here I am, Lord use me.” And when that happens, the world sees Jesus more clearly than any sermon ever could.

Until All Have Heard,

Pastor Mark