Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 13, 2008

Living with Passion

The word “passion” is from the Latin word passus, a form of the word pati which means to suffer. Mel Gibson’s movie “The Passion of the Christ” used the word passion in reference to the sufferings of Christ following the Last Supper and including the Crucifixion. Webster defines passion as a powerful emotion or appetite; ardent love; strong sexual desire or lust; boundless enthusiasm. We often refer to people who are passionate as being “on fire.” Consider the following characteristics of one who is passionate.

P = The letter “P” reminds us that purpose is at the core of passion. Purpose changes everything. It impacts the decisions we make and the directions we take. We must clearly know and understand why God placed us on the planet and how we are to relate to Him and the interests of His kingdom. The Westminster Catechism (1647) states, “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.” Have you discovered your purpose?

A = The letter “A” reminds us that we give attention to the things about which we are most passionate. When we are not thinking about other things, thoughts of what we are most passionate about generally occupy our minds. Paul said, “Set your minds on the things above, not on the things that are on earth” (Colossians 3:2). What do you think about?

S = The letter “S” reminds us that we speak concerning what we are most passionate about. Those passionate about God and His kingdom always look for opportunities to talk about or to turn conversations toward Him. Peter said, “for we cannot stop speaking what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20). What do you talk about?

S = The letter “S” reminds us that those consumed by a passion for God and His kingdom are those most willing to make a sacrifice. They are willing to lay it all on the line for a cause bigger than themselves. They demonstrate courage and take risks. Jim Elliot, martyred in Ecuador in 1956, said, “Do not give yourself to what others can and will not do, but to what others cannot and will not do.” What are you giving yourself to?

I = The letter “I” reminds us that those consumed by a passion for God and His kingdom make involvement a priority. They cannot sit passively by while others pray, give, and go. They are willing to get their uniforms dirty. William Lindsey, the man who ran the entire distance of the Great Wall, said, “My experience is that unless you make a commitment opportunities pass by. Life seemed full of people who talked about achievement yet never did anything more adventurous than watch television.” Are you in the race?

O = The letter “O” reminds us that those consumed by a passion for God order their lives around His Word. Their priorities reflect their commitment to bigger-picture concerns. Paul said, “But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (Philippians 3:7). Are His priorities yours?

N = The letter “N” reminds us that the those consumed by a passion for God nurture their passion. They reject anything that causes their love for God to grow cold and intentionally work to cultivate closeness with God. The Psalmist wrote, “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for Thee, O God” (Psalm 42:1). Are you drawing closer to God every day?

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 11, 2008

Historical Mentors

   While driving down the long black ribbon of road dissecting the barren moonscape between Koya and Dohuk, those of us wedged into Heather Mercer’s Jeep sipped from warm cups of conversation. The aroma of friendship filled our vehicle as we bumped our way past occasional outcrops of buildings and sped past gutted remains of abandoned vehicles. As we turned to avoid Mosul because of a recent outbreak of violence there, the conversation in our Jeep turned to the topic of mentors. Each of us took turns talking about the people who are currently investing in our lives. I enjoyed listening to personal stories of how living mentors have enriched and shaped the lives of my Jeep-mates.

   Our conversation about mentors took a new twist when Dr. Don Ellsworth asked us to share about historical personalities who have shaped our worldview — people now dead but who serve as our historical mentors. What an intriguing thought. While there are many historical figures whose lives I enjoy reading about, I have never thought of them as my historical mentors. So, we filled our cups with this new brew of conversation and took our first sips by defining historical mentors. Here are a few of the things we discussed about historical mentors.

   First, historical mentors have already lived and died. Their story is not likely to change. Barring some unforeseen discovery, we know what we’re getting. No big surprises. Their influence, whether good or bad, continues through what they wrote or through what others have written about them. We can learn good lessons from both their good and bad examples.

   Second, historical mentors are always available to visit with us. We can approach them anytime of the day or night. They can accompany us on any journey. We can pack them in a suitcase or toss them in a backpack. Their wisdom lies buried between the pages of books and is accessible to anyone willing to carefully dig through layers of words.

   Third, historical mentors provide a standard by which to measure or evaluate our own progress. Their flags are still waving atop the summits of their respective achievements. Their accomplishments or failures are permanently etched on history’s map. We can avoid their mistakes, smell their sweat, and trace their steps.

   I like the idea of historical mentors. Outside of my favorite Biblical characters, I have enjoyed learning from men like Ernest Shackelton whose failed trans-Antarctic expedition in 1914 made him the most successful failure in history. Trapped on the ice for two years, he did not lose a single man. Mother Teresa is one of my newest historical mentors. Her love for Jesus and desire to serve Him led her to found the Missionaries of Charity. She led by an example so extreme that she continues to inspire others to look for Jesus in the distressing disguise of the poor.

   Do you have a historical mentor? If not, then make your way to your local library or bookstore and start a new friendship with someone who can enrich your life, challenge your thinking, and inspire you to live adventurously for God. You’ll be glad you did.

• • • • •

Note | This discussion took place during a long drive in Kurdistan on Wednesday, October 22, 2008.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 10, 2008

Smarter Than Worms

Note: Long before I owned a computer, in those dark days before the internet and blogs, I posted my thoughts on a yellow legal pad with a ball-point pen. I thought I would resurrect some of my devotional musings from those ancient days and give them new life in cyberspace. So, occasionally, I will post one of my ancient legal pad posts for your consumption. Here’s one I wrote in April 1991.

• • • • •

   The results of an important entomological study were reported over National Public Radio on April 25, 1991. The study concluded that roaches are smarter than earthworms but dumber than bees! This study was conducted by entomologists who I assume are smarter than all three.

   How do you suppose one goes about measuring the I.Q. of lower life? Perhaps someone checked the guest registers of roach motels only to discover that an occasional worm had slithered in but nary a bee bumbled by.

   I must confess that I have never thought of roaches in terms of their intelligence or even their relative intelligence. Like most sensible people, I have only thought of them as the most disgusting and revolting creatures worthy only of total annihilation. The thought that they do anything but reproduce in Biblical proportions is foreign to me. And yet now I must accept the fact that someone is actually paid to study and measure their intelligence. It seems rather sad that even the constituents of the bug kingdom cannot escape intelligence testing. We must not be misled however, by thinking that such research is not important. Somebody has to do it. After all, such data can be very valuable to those who have committed themselves to rid the world of roaches.
 
   I don’t think roaches know they are smarter than earthworms but dumber than bees, and I really don’t think they care. Perhaps it should stay that way. I’m certainly not going to volunteer to break the news to them! But while I am on the subject of relative intelligence, I find it interesting that so many people think they are smarter than God!

   According to the Bible, God created us and has even been gracious enough to give us His Word, that special revelation that helps us to better understand who we are and who He is. The eighth Psalm tells us that David understood that God is smarter than man. As David gazed into the heavens, he marveled at the thought that the God who created the macroscopic could be interested in the microscopic. And, God reminded Job of His superior intelligence in a dramatic discourse recorded for us in the thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth chapters of the book of Job. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” God asked Job. The writer of Psalm 147 understood that God is smarter than man when he declared that God “counts the number of the stars [and] gives names to all of them.” Isaiah 55:8-9 records, “‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways’ declares the Lord. ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.'”

   Why then do we insist on second-guessing God? Why do we insist on trying to convince ourselves that what God instructs us to do is really not in our best interests? Why do we insist on trying to prove Him wrong by disobeying His instructions? Alas, such activity will serve only to convince us that we are smarter than earthworms but not smarter than God!

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 9, 2008

Into the Cities

   A little more than thirty years ago, I took my first steps on the road of vocational Christian ministry. My journey began in an urban setting where I served on the staff of a church located in the heart of the city. For a time, I lived in a rented upstairs room in an old house located near the church. I knew the roaches by name and sometimes kept a light on at night to keep them at bay. But, I loved it there because I could feel the pulse of the city. I knew the people who walked to the grocery store, the homeless guys, the lunch crowd at the deli, the security guards at the hospital, the regulars at the laundromat, the kids who lived in the half-way houses, and the old-timers who knew everyone by name.

   I love cities — the places where you can see the colorful strata of society in the landscape of humanity. I have visited major population centers in twenty-six countries around the planet. Each of these places share one thing in common — lots of people, each of whom deserves the opportunity to hear and respond to the gospel of Jesus Christ. While cities offer many distractions to the gospel, they also provide a vast audience for the gospel.

   We can make a difference in our city and in cities around the world if each of us will embrace our responsibility to share our story and show His love. That’s the way first-century believers reached their cities. John Foxe wrote the following about first-century believers: “In that age every Christian was a missionary. The soldier tried to win recruits…; the prisoner sought to bring his jailer to Christ; the slave girl whispered the gospel in the ear of her mistress; the young wife begged her husband to be baptized…; every one who had experienced the joys of believing tried to bring others to the faith.” (Foxe’s Christian Martyrs of the World, p. 41)

   The Apostle Paul concentrated his missionary work on cities. He took the gospel to people from all levels of society in the strategic population centers of his day. The gospel spread rapidly from these places of influence to outlying areas. In a period of about ten years, Paul established churches in the provinces of Galatia, Macedonia, Achaia, and Asia. From there, the gospel continued its march from city to city and village to village across the centuries until it reached your neighborhood and mine. And now, it’s our responsibility to allow God to use us to reach cities and provinces and nations. It can happen if each of us will take His message into the cities. So, be sure to share your personal story and show His wonderful love to someone this week. You never know where that message will eventually end up a generation from now.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 7, 2008

One Block from Hell

A Page from My Journal
Uganda, November 7, 2008
Posted from Dubai

   Yesterday was a wonderful day. Pastor Alex and I officiated at the dedication of the building that will be the permanent home of The Comforter’s Center. Overcast skies and misting rain did nothing to dampen the spirit of the celebration. Veronica and her staff of volunteers and local pastors and church leaders assembled on the wet lawn. But perhaps the best thing was the presence of young and previously abortion-minded women holding their babies. One young woman named Harriet was present with her baby, Irene, “Your baby’s name means peace in the Greek language,” I told her. Because of the work of the staff at the center, Harriet’s once-hostile womb became a place of peace.

   Today, Alex and I visited once again with Veronica and the volunteers at the center before heading for the airport at Entebbe. The face of every person present was painted with the bold brushstrokes of unmistakable gratitude. It was obvious to us that the people of Kingsland did more than purchase real estate in Kampala, they established a beachhead for life. From here, life’s commandos will continue to make advances into hostile territories to rescue the vulnerable. We have put death on notice. Life has set up camp in the neighborhood. It’s a new day for The Comforter’s Center.

   Tomorrow, we will be home but the staff of The Comforter’s Center will continue to take back ground from death. Two years ago, God providentially relocated the center to its present location. I am so glad He did. The property we purchased is just one dusty block away from one of the busiest abortion clinics in Kampala. Women walking to that clinic must first walk past The Comforter’s Center. Many of the women we spoke with said they had stopped by because they had seen the word “Free” on the sign and thought they would get a free abortion. Instead they received the “free counseling” that we advertise. God is using four letters painted on a metal sign outside a two-story building located a block from hell to save lives. Amazing!

   Eternity alone will reveal the full impact of what God did through the ministry of The Comforter’s Center. Thanks again, Kingsland, for making it possible for us to purchase the building for the center. God is always looking for those who are willing to fight for life. So, let’s continue to storm hell’s beaches wherever we find them. Let’s rescue the perishing and care for the dying one block from hell.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 6, 2008

Twenty Pigs

A Page from My Journal
Uganda, November 5, 2008

   The streets of Kampala come alive early in the morning. Before the sun rises, the currents of traffic begin to push exhaust-belching vehicles past an endless flotsam of humanity. It seems as though the entire population of Kampala is either on the streets, on some form of public and private transportation, or whizzing by on boda-bodas (taxi motorcycles so named because they take people from “border to border”). I never tire of navigating through the streets of cities like Kampala and feasting my eyes on its teeming humanity. It’s always interesting.

   This morning, Pastor Alex and I traveled across Kampala’s sea of humanity to spend the day with pastors and church leaders assembled to learn more about the work of The Comforter’s Center. Veronica, the director of The Comforter’s Center, invited 150 people to attend. 280 showed up! When we arrived they had already assembled and started singing. I love to worship with Ugandan believers (and secretly hope they will get to lead worship around the throne of God). Worship here is passionate and filled with energy and movement. My hips hurt!

   In our morning sessions, Alex and I shared the theological grounds for the work of The Comforter’s Center. Attendees soaked up every word and squeezed them out onto the thin blue lines of their notepads. They affirmed our message and energized us with spontaneous applause and spirited Amen’s. We also listened to testimonies of young women who chose life for their unborn babies. These are the wonderful stories that give a heartbeat to cold statistics.

   In our afternoon sessions, we shared about the people of Kingsland and talked about our unwavering commitment to the unborn and to the least of these. The news that the people of Kingsland had raised the money to purchase the building for The Comforter’s Center deeply stirred the crowd. We challenged them to take ownership of the life-saving work of the center. “We will kick abortion out of Kampala and out of Uganda,” they chanted in unison.

   We enjoyed a wonderful day with our Ugandan friends. But, God saved the best for last. At the conclusion of our time together, just before we prayed, a young man made his way to the front of the room. “I want to say something,” he said. The room became silent. He talked about how God had convicted him to do something to help The Comforter’s Center, but he did not have any money. “All I have to give is twenty pigs, and I want to give these animals to help the ministry of the center.” The room erupted into a holy cacophony of shouts and praises and applause. Those in attendance understood the depth of this man’s sacrificial gift.

   A gift of twenty pigs! Imagine that. But, God will use this man’s selfless gift of twenty pigs to save the lives of the unborn. The Psalmist was right when he wrote that all things serve God (Psalm 119:91) – even twenty pigs!

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 4, 2008

Expectant Faith

A Page from My Journal
En Route to Uganda, November 3, 2008
Posted from Amsterdam

   Pastor Alex and I are en route to Kampala aboard a packed KLM flight. We are on our way to The Comforter’s Center, the pregnancy help center our church helped to start in cooperation with Life International. Alex and I are seated among new friends in Row 39. Next to Alex is a young man from Ukraine who is a Christ-follower. And, seated next to me is a Catholic couple from Kerala, India – the place where Thomas took the gospel in the first century. I told them about our boys’ school in Orissa. The husband told me about a Catholic priest they know who was killed there a month and a half ago. Leaning close, he whispered, “The Hindus cut off his leg and an arm and he died. Be careful when you return to that terrible place.”

   Last month, we learned that an abortion provider was trying to purchase the building rented by The Comforter’s Center. However, the owner gave our center the first option to buy the building. He extended this courtesy not expecting that The Comforter’s Center would be able to come up with the $150,000.00 purchase price by the middle of October. But, he was not counting on the faith of Veronica, the director of The Comforter’s Center. Having survived two attempts by her mother to abort her, Veronica emerged from her mother’s hostile womb crippled but alive. She is not one to give up easily. She committed the matter to God and expectantly awaited His answer.

   God honored Veronica’s expectant faith through the generosity of His people at Kingsland. In the week after Hurricane Ike damaged many of our homes and the worst economic news in recent history damaged many of our hopes, God exceeded Veronica’s expectations by providing $180,000.00 – more than enough to purchase the building. When I spoke with Veronica by phone, a fountain of praise erupted from her grateful heart.

   Veronica’s story reminds me of Peter and John’s encounter with a man crippled from birth (Acts 3). This man sat by the temple gate called Beautiful every day where he begged from those going into the temple courts. When Peter and John came along, he looked at them “expecting to get something from them” (Acts 3:5). Having no money to give him, Peter healed the man in Jesus’ name – certainly more than the man expected. The beggar expressed his gratitude by walking and jumping and praising God. Beautiful!

   I don’t know what challenges you are facing this week, but I hope you’ll remember that expectant faith honors God and God honors expectant faith. Let God hear your petitions in the morning and then eagerly watch throughout the day for His answer (Psalm 5:3). He can exceed your expectations (Ephesians 3:20-21). And, that’s a beautiful thing!

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | November 1, 2008

Heather’s Challenge

   One of the things I love about Jesus is that He walked slowly among the people. He walked at a pace that allowed Him to see people clearly and made Him accessible to others. Even children could keep up with Jesus. He lived life within the reach of hurting humanity. His steps intersected with a tax collector in a tree and a woman at a well and, as a result, both lives were changed. He took the time to deposit personal interest in the depleted accounts of neglected and lonely people. He often followed the roadmap of pain to help lepers and blind men and others burdened by hurt. He took the time to care.

   Heather Mercer shared a challenging thought with our team at one of our morning devotionals in Kurdistan. She challenged us to do three things as we engaged with people throughout the day. First, look into the eyes of others and notice the color of their eyes. Second, remember the names of those you meet. And finally, make people smile. That’s quite a challenge, especially for people accustomed to moving through life at a pace so fast that people look blurry. In order to do any of the things Heather challenged us to do we must learn to walk slowly among the people — slow enough to look into their eyes, learn their names, and deposit the kind of interest in their hearts that will register in a smile.

   Mark recorded an account of a miracle that Jesus performed in two stages (Mark 8:22-26). A blind man was brought to Jesus at Bethsaida. Jesus took the man aside, spit on his eyes and laid hands on him, and then asked him if he could see anything. The man replied that he could see men, but they looked like trees walking about — an indication that his sight was blurry. Jesus laid His hands on the man’s eyes a second time and, as a result, the man could see everything clearly.

   I know that Jesus could have healed the blind man with one touch. Instead, He chose to touch the man a second time. I’m glad He performed this particular miracle in two stages because it serves to remind us that insight often comes slowly. Most of us move through life so fast that the people around us look like trees walking about. We cannot distinguish the color of their eyes or any other features. That’s why we should ask Jesus to touch our eyes a second time so that we might see others clearly and with greater insight. Only then will we notice the color of their eyes, remember their names, and make them smile. So, slow down a bit and accept Heather’s challenge. It will make a difference in your life and in the lives of others.

• • • • •

PS | Pastor Alex and I leave for Uganda on Monday. Please pray for us as we meet with the staff of The Comforter’s Center and talk with local leaders about the sanctity of human life. I will try to post from Uganda as I have opportunity.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | October 29, 2008

Dust on My Shoes

A Page from My Journal
Kurdistan, October 29, 2008

   Zawee Spi is the name of a place that is not written on a map. But, it’s there. Located outside of Harmoda, it’s one of several camps that Kurds displaced from Iran call home. This huddle of bland, earth-colored houses is barely noticeable against the barren backdrop of the surrounding hills. But, it’s there. Zawee Spi is a simple place powdered with dust, pock-marked by time, and governed by despair. However, if you listen carefully, you can still hear the faint pulse of hope. It’s there.

   Those who live in Zawee Spi share more in common than the poverty that tethers them to this spot. Every family is on a first-name basis with Death. The shrouded specter is no stranger here. I listened to widows mourn the untimely departure of husbands and providers. I looked into the eyes of children penalized for a lifetime by Death’s unwelcomed intrusion into their homes. I walked with a father to the grave of a daughter near an ancient olive tree on a rocky hillside. We stood silently. He wiped his tears and then slowly touched his forehead and shoulders as he made the sign of the cross. The cross: the ultimate symbol of death and, for this grieving father, the only hope for life.

   Death continues to employ despair in an attempt to kill the people of Zawee Spi before they actually die. In fact, many of those living there are already lifeless. But, Death will not have the final word. Members of our team immunized the hurting with compassionate touches and injections of prayer. Our team members played with children … children running and laughing while rows of headstones standing in the adjacent cemetery looked on in silence. The presence of children: the fruit of those lying silent beneath the field of death.

   Death has encamped among the Kurds for centuries and refuses to leave. Most recently, Death paid the rent with the currency of Saddam Hussein’s initiatives against the Kurds. I listened to a man describe what it was like to watch Saddam’s military make an example of two of his childhood friends, boys he had once laughed and played with. Those are the guys who were pushed out of a helicopter to their deaths (see post entitled “Field of Death”). “I love George Bush,” he said, accenting every word with a raised finger, “because he removed Saddam.” This was an oft-repeated theme among the Kurds.

   For the past several days, my friends and I have walked slowly among the Kurds and looked for every opportunity to wipe away the suffocating film of death from their hearts. We have talked about life and the life-giver and watched smiles return to vacant faces. We have served in the name of the One who has defeated death. We have liberally planted seeds of life in the places death has marked off-limits. The life-giver is at work here and His harvest is coming.

   We are on our way home as I write this final journal entry. The Kurds have purchased real estate in my heart with their open arms, gracious hospitality, and persevering spirit. I will pray daily and often for the triumph of life, the kind of life that only Jesus can give, among this people accustomed to death. I also return home with the dust of Kurdistan on my shoes. I like that and I won’t wipe it off (Luke 10:8-12). The dust on my shoes will remind me of the open-armed welcome I received among the people of Kurdistan – a wonderful people who live in a terrible place.

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Posted by: Omar C. Garcia | October 27, 2008

Field of Death

A Page from My Journal
Kurdistan • October 26, 2008

   Prior to coming here, Harmoda was just another name on the map of Iraq, one among the many centuries-old names marking a place far from where I live. Our journey brought us to this particular place because just outside its cluster of colorless homes there is a colony of Kurdish refugees from Iran. We are here to connect with this tiny slice of hurting humanity — people swept onto this rocky shore by winds of conflict and waves of rejection. They have been marooned here for years but have learned how to survive.

   Today, Harmoda became more than a name on the map of Iraq. It became a name that is now engraved on the geography of my heart. The cartographer was an elderly Kurdish gentleman who spoke excellent English with a sophisticated accent, smoked lots of cigarettes, and whose belief in God had long since been evicted from his heart. The violent history of this place is tightly woven into the fabric of his life. It’s as if all that has happened to the generations that have lived and died here has happened to him.

   “Do you know what Harmoda means?” he asked. Without hesitation, he continued. “It means field of death.” He pointed to the mountains in the distance as he recounted that 50,000 people had once called this place home — until Muslim invaders descended from those mountains and slaughtered the masses. Since that time this place has been called the field of death. Thinking this slaughter had occurred in recent history, he clarified that it happened 1,400 years ago. Because of that brutal massacre, death is still memorialized in the name of this blood-stained piece of geography.

   Later in the day, another man recounted something that Saddam Hussein’s forces had done here in 1988. Pain mixed with anger accented his words. “Saddam took two Kurdish men,” he said. “Then, he placed them in large sacks, took them up in a helicopter, and pushed them to their deaths.” The field of death received Saddam’s violent offering and drank the blood of these two helpless men, and one more page was added to the community’s thick volume of violence.

   As I thought about the field of death throughout this day, I reflected on what Jesus said to His disciples about another field. “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field” (Matthew 9:38). The Lord is looking for those who will sow the seeds of life in terrible places like the field of death. That’s what we are here to do. Perhaps you can take a moment to find Harmoda on your map. You might be surprised to find that it’s closer to you than you think. Then, allow the Lord of the harvest to use you to sow seeds of life in fields of death.

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