This past Friday Nancy and I spent touring Caswell County, an area just north and east of us. Our host was raised in the area and has spent quite a bit of time studying its history. In the short time we were together Nancy and I learned much…
First, a couple terms that we had to get clear. The Boom Times were between 1830 and 1850. At that time the county was one of the richest in the state, with its agricultural base and plantation system. During that period many of the notable people who helped shape North Carolina history lived, worked, built mansions, and influenced from Caswell County. The other is that what I have usually known as the Civil War is, in this part of the country, known as the War Between the States…
Coming from the west coast, where the land is awesome but the history is less so (besides the Native American strand, which is another story), this area may lack the dramatic scenery but it has much more history. And Caswell County has history to the extreme.



One of the first sites we stopped at was an empty field. It was not that impressive, until we learned that it was on that field that the Continental Army mustered as the British troops under General Cornwallis marched northwards.

Just across the road from that field stands an old classic Boom Times home. Lined across the front lawn is a series of stone pillars—they marked the route of the stagecoach line from Charlotte north…Then there was the oldest building still standing that had served as a general store. Not sure of the date but the Revolutionary War soldiers had shopped in it…


As General Cornwallis moved north he had hoped that the settlers would come to the aid of the British, but that did not happen en masse. One of the reasons he discovered was that the Presbyterians had established churches and that the pastors were literate, and had encouraged parishioners to read. Nothing as dangerous as an educated populace. The first of those pastors to move south from Virginia had founded a Presbyterian church in 1756, and Cornwallis had as one his missions the capture and execution of that pastor. Unfortunately for the British, the pastor died just a week or two before their troops arrived in the area, which left them only two alternatives to exercise—they burned his library and exhumed his body, just to be sure it was he…We visited that church and saw his burial place….

And we also looked on the place behind the church where a runaway slave who had been sold as a child because his father was the plantation owner and his wife did not like his presence. He had escaped from the new owner, hidden himself and been fed by his mother before being discovered and returned to his owner. The story goes on that he ran away again and made his way to England…



Then there was the Caswell County Courthouse, an impressive historic building with a checkered historic past. It was there in 1870 that Chicken Stephens, an advocate of rights for freed slaves, a Republican state senator, the Justice of the Peace, and a representative of the governor, was called out of a legislative session, ushered into a side room, and murdered by the Klan. It was also there that a slave woman was being tried for practicing medicine without a license. The judge knew that what she was doing was serving as a local midwife, and heaped praise on her while throwing the charge out of court and setting her free…


The landscape is dotted with notable buildings that represent the wealth of the Boom Times. There are ornate mansions with grand entrances, such as the one in the picture here. And there are the interesting ones, such as the other more modest structure with two front doors. Seemed a bit unusual until our host informed us that it was fairly traditional to have such an arrangement, and that the function was to provide an exit for guests sleeping on one side of the house who did not want to awaken their hosts in case they had to make a late night visit to the privy…


Caswell County is now the second poorest county in North Carolina. History brought dramatic changes, and the county declined in wealth and importance. But it is an interesting place to visit and the history is one that says much about our country—the good and the bad. It was fascinating to see and reflect on. It makes one think about the legacy they will leave behind, what it builds to and how it will be judged. It reminds me of the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the wise and the foolish builder, and the call to build on the rock, the words of Jesus himself. (Matthew 7:24-27).

I am sitting on our side patio, looking at our back yard-pond, while the sun is setting behind me. It has been a full day, just part of a full week. Just over a week ago Nancy and I were in Shoreline, sharing with good friends. Now we are back in Greensboro, North Carolina…and thinking about Tajikistan.

While we were away one of the large trees in our back yard succumbed to gravity. I have felled several trees in my life, particularly going “wooding” while living in Clarkston, but this tree fell as perfectly as possible. It was growing about one foot from our neighbor’s fence—and it fell in a perfect line, staying one foot away. No damage at all, despite its massive size and weight. And now it is stacked neatly alongside the fence waiting to dry out for the winter’s fires. Cutting it up was part of yesterday.




Another part of yesterday was our annual neighborhood association meeting. Last time I attended, along with about 6 others, and was elected to the board. Not a hotly contested race nor a position that I particularly wanted. But someone had to do it. This year more people attended the meeting and in the end I left with the enviable title of president. Again, not hotly contested nor desired. I told the people that I would only be in the country half the time—but that seemed to bother no one. In fact impending absence may have been a bonus. Our neighborhood is a stable and pretty trouble-free one, so I was assured that the demands on my time would be minimal. But who knows. The biggest hassle in the years I have been here has been a shed that was built in a resident’s back yard (it was approved by the architectural committee, so was fine) and an above-ground pool in another back yard (it was not approved and will have to be removed). Why I have this position is yet to be seen, but God may just use it as a way of getting to know people. Nancy has already started the getting to know ritual with weekly Monday tea for all who want, now maybe I can do my part…

Yesterday Nancy and I also went to a PCUSA Board of Pension information meeting. I learned that despite a 28+% loss in the retirement portfolio last year, all is stable and secure for all needs. Kind of nice to know, and pretty rare in these economic times. We also met some very interesting people and hope to get to know some of them better in the months ahead. Retired Presbyterian pastors actually are an interesting bunch—lots of years of faithful service at home and abroad. Each has a story and they are good ones. The cloud of witnesses of which Hebrews speaks is real in these people.

Today was dentist then a couple hours with Colette. Walking up to get a cookie at Subway (for her), a coffee at Starbucks (for me), then a bit of fruit at the local market (for both of us). What a fun time for grandpa! Colette's two day a week pre-school ends tomorrow, so my Tuesday and Thursday ritual of taking her to the school, picking her up, then going to Taco Bell will be done. But her parents are enrolling her in a Little Ninja class for part of the summer, so she will not be bored. The Ninja school shares space with a ballet school, but all adults who know Colette agree that the former fits her a lot better than the latter….

After that Nancy and I mortared the stones in our back patio—something that the landscapers had neglected to do when they put it in. Took all afternoon but it will make the place much more usable. And since that is where the sandbox is, it will make all much better.

And in the meantime Nancy learned that she has been offered a position teaching teachers in Tajikistan for the month of July. About 12 hours after she submitted her interest and CV to the US governmental agency that finds people to respond to requests from countries around the world, they contacted her. And 24 hours later it looks like it is going to happen—Tajikistan. It should be a grand adventure, and she will be great at it. Now her two government sponsored assignments have been Albania and Tajikistan. I challenge anyone to tell a friend where in the world those two places are. But God has a plan for it all…

Enough rambling. The Psalmist says, Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. That is certainly what we have found out in life, and what we continue to experience. And his actions are pretty amazing adventures. Don’t let anyone tell you that following Christ is boring!

One month ago I was in Merida, Mexico, sharing in the life and ministry of El Seminario Teologico Presbiteriano San Pablo. Today I am in Shoreline, Washington. The time between has been filled with two weeks back home in Greensboro with the family, punctuated by the greatest celebration in history, the Easter celebration, that is the celebration of the resurrection of the Son of God.



It contained a week at Mt. Hermon with 180 other pastors, sharing lives and hearing challenging messages at a conference that has continued for 37 years. Then there were a few short days in San Francisco with daughter JJ, seeing her new apartment and learning more about her Netflix work. Finally there has been a week of travel up the west coast, visiting friends and family and arriving in Shoreline to spend a few days renewing relationships, visiting my mother and sister, and enjoying sights and sounds that were our home for twenty years.


Through the month the outstanding reminder has been of God’s goodness in both relationships and in creation. It is an awesome privilege to have relationships with other pastors which have spanned the entire length of my church ministry life. The West Coast Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference began with a small group of us, young in ministry, covenanting together to meet eight days after Easter. We arranged speakers, a place, and an agenda, and fulfilled the covenant. And we have been doing the same for all these years. In the span of time the conference has been going on we have shared joys and tragedies, celebrated signs of the power of God in our various places of ministry, and prayed over those places in which that power seemed so far away. It has been a rare place, a rare experience, and priceless relationships, and I am so thankful to God for it.



And the same is true of other people Nancy and I have visited in the past few weeks. A friend from high school (we have hardly changed, of course), family and partners in ministry from Fresno, Clarkston and Shoreline. Again it is the relationships of life and serving which bind us together, and for which I am so thankful.
Then there is the beauty. We live in an amazingly beautiful country! The rains of the spring have brought life to hills and colors to fields, clearly reflecting the beauty and design of God.


Nancy and I have driven from the valleys of California to the valleys of Oregon, from the redwoods of the Santa Cruz mountains to the glacial moraine of the Wallowas, from Mt. Shasta to Mt. Rainier. Up and over and down Rattlesnake Grade, into the Snake River Valley, then across the plains of eastern Washington and through the Cascades. The variety of scenes, the beauty of the scenery, and the grandeur of the land is amazing, and Nancy and I are so grateful to be able to soak it in.


In a few days we will return to Greensboro to spend the summer. Then, God willing, on to adventures cycling and serving in various parts of Europe. But for now the time is a time for relishing in the gifts of people who mean so much to us and a country that does as well. It is a time for praising and giving thanks, for enjoying and sharing. It is a time to remember the words of the Psalmist, Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name…(Psalm 103:1)

Rain at home in Greensboro…rain and snow where we used to live, in Seattle…And yesterday here in Merida it was 103.3 degrees…Interesting.

And even in that heat (which I like) I can take a break from the computer and the classes I am teaching, get out and pedal away—especially when I know that part of the ride will be interrupted by a swim in our local cenote. Diving through a hole in the earth into cool clear water, and splashing around in a cave that is part of an underground river which is wending its way through limestone tunnels. There is little or no current in the water, as there are no mountains in the Yucatan, but I wonder where the deep tunnel that the cave disappears into goes…There is a sport called cave diving. It is a variation of scuba diving only it follows these underground rivers and caves. I have no interest at all, but you can’t help wondering how far you would have to swim to get to the next cavern. Probably farther than you could hold your breath, which is why I don’t even consider trying…


Last weekend I went to Cozumel, the largest island of Mexico. Just off the coast of the Mayan Riviera, south of Cancun, it is one of my favorite places in the world. It is very different from Cancun, at least at night when the cruise ships have left the dock and are moving towards their next port. The island has a history and an ethos that even its tourist industry can not completely erase. More family oriented, more slow paced, not as crazy as Cancun.



I spent just two nights there in a small hotel. Sat on the waterfront and ate a hamburger I bought from a street vendor on the corner. I spent the afternoon I was there scuba diving in one of the finest reef complexes in the world. Manta ray, lobster, eels, and countless brilliant colored fish carrying on with their lives in the underwater world, moving effortlessly in and around the towering coral columns, make diving surreal and serene.


Driving back to Merida I noticed several highway signs of a type that has sometimes got me thinking. The sign can often be found on a lonely stretch of highway, all by itself. It reads No Maltrate las Señales, which translated means Don’t Mistreat the Signs. A reasonable enough message, but one which is a little odd when it is on the only sign for miles. If the sign were not there there would be no signs to mistreat. Makes me wonder…


Back at the seminary I am finishing up my final week of classes, as I head back home Friday. The class load has not been great, one on Paul’s writings and another on Preaching, but I also accepted a Friday 4 hour class which added a bit. Operating in Spanish is something I enjoy, but I am all too aware of my limitations and it is stretching to do it all the time. The most challenging part of my teaching here has been attempting to put some of what I am doing online. In fact the plan as of today is to continue teaching the class on Paul’s writings from home in the United States, all by internet. If it were just a matter of technical production that would be one thing, but putting the written in Spanish and posting it, then doing an audio component in Spanish that is basically a summary of the class sessions, that is really a challenge. And it adds to the sense of limitations as it puts what I do, with all its limitations and errors, out for the world to evaluate…

I guess one of the things I have learned is that God does not use the best or most well trained, just the most willing. We do not have to be great, but we have to be available. And when we are, it is up to God to take what we can offer and turn it into something of use to the kingdom. I have come to realize that to not do something because we know we can not do it as well as some others is a form of arrogance. Excellence is a good thing, but availability is an even better thing…So we give what we can and put it in the hands of God. I suppose even Isaiah may not have been the best and most qualified person for the job of prophet, but he was the one who said, Here am I. Send me. He was available and look at what God did through him...

Yesterday I took a bike ride, as I often do. But this time I stopped along the way to take some photos just to show you what it is like around here…My journey covered just over 20 miles—a couple miles more than a typical distance, but not unusual.
I left the Legters’ home, where I am staying, and went out past the seminary onto the road to Dzitya, a stone and wood artisan’s town about 2 miles east of the seminary gate. I went through Dzitya onto a road heading towards Kochen, past a cement plant and two small villages. On the edge of one of the villages is a cenote that I stopped to swim in a couple days ago, but did not this time. After just under 10 miles I turned around and retraced my steps through Dzitya and past some fancy homes, but kept going a few hundred yards when I came to the seminary gate and rode into a sub-development called Las Americas. Down the street I went, past the small strip mall to the Oxxo store, where I was disappointed to find that the KFreeze machine was not working. From there it was back to the seminary, past the SKY satellite television kiosk that sits at the entrance to the development and past Blas Pascal, a school started by a local Presbyterian Church. I maneuvered through two sets of Topes (tarmac ridges or steel bumps strategically placed on the road to slow traffic), back to the Legters. The temperature was around 90 and the ride was wonderful…Just a little report on what it is like around this place where God has put me for these two months…

Friday was Celestún. Saturday was Izamal. Sunday was Motúl. Today is Wal-Mart…and Monte de Olivos church, where Nancy is tutoring several young adults in English. And then there are the classes I teach...


In 1979 the lagoon at Celestún was designated as a world Biosphere Reserve. It is home to one of the largest population of flamingoes in the world, pristine mangrove stands and the Ojo de Agua (Eye of Water), a spring that gushes out of the ground to feed fresh water into the brackish lagoon.

Located on the west coast of the Yucatan Peninsula, about an hour and a half west of Merida, the town of Celetsún is a beach town, but has none of the glitzy development of some of the other towns of the peninsula such as Progresso, Cancun and the towns of the Mayan Riviera. The flamingoes are at their peak in December and May, but enough reside in the lagoon year round to make it a spectacular destination. And it is well organized.


There is one park center where tickets are purchased, and one area where boats wait to take visitors on the hour or two hour trip. The boat owners seem to take turns so there is no hassling or hustling, and the route is set for all. Since the peso has now fallen about 50% in value relative to the dollar, our trip was both a bargain and a joy. And the fish meal on the beach was the same…


Izamal is a town about an hour and a half east of Merida. It is the location of one of the oldest and largest monasteries in Latin America, one important enough to have been visited by Pope John Paul II and designated by him as a status just under that of a basilica.


The monastery and church were built on the ruins of a Mayan pyramid, one of the five that are still features of the city. The city had been abandoned by the time the Spaniards arrived, and the pyramids were in ruins—having lost some of their height and mass as locals would use the cut stones of the pyramids to build their houses. Even with these losses the largest of the pyramids is said to have the second greatest mass of any the pyramids of the Meso-America.

We visited Izamal that particular day because our host was teaching an extension class there, in a Presbyterian church that has as its back wall one of the sides of the large pyramid. I wonder if it is a plus for real estate value to describe your property as a pyramid-view property?

In any case, while he was teaching Nancy and I visited the monastery, walked around the beautiful town, and sat on the square watching the people and drinking a coke. A great way to pass a couple hours…

Motúl is about an hour east of Merida on a road slightly to the north of the road to Izamal. The occasion for our visit was an invitation by one of my students to preach and officiate at the communion service of the church he serves, one of the Presbyterian churches in the town. In the morning Nancy and I had attended worship at the downtown Presbyterian church in Merida, Divino Salvador, but most churches have their main service in the evening, which is when we went to Motul.


The church was packed, the singing was enthusiastic, and the spirit of the mixed congregation--young and old—was joyful. I have now preached three times in three weeks, and each time is a privilege and an experience. The Maya people are generally a reserved people, and it shows in their worship. But with the praise band blaring, the sound system turned up to its maximum (the only setting I have experienced) and the young people leading in singing, there is plenty of volume and enthusiasm to go around.


Carnival began on Thursday, and will continue until Tuesday. The primary impact of the celebration in this city is to bring in a crowd of tourists and turn the main boulevard into a nightly parade route and a mile long beer stall. The Catholic Church does not discourage its followers to avoid the celebrations, but does advise exercising moderation. The evangelical churches (evangelical in Latin America means all non-Catholic) urges avoidance. There is always a youth camp out of town during the Carnival season, and the message at Divino Salvador was a clear one about keeping away from the goings-on, about how friendship with the world makes a person an enemy of Christ (James 4:4).

The atmosphere of Carnival does give reason to pause and consider to what extent a believer should participate, and what it means to be in the world but not of the world. I do not believe that as believers our primary identity should be a negative one, that is what we keep away from or do not do. Yet there are clearly boundaries to recognize and activities that are inappropriate. The hard thing is to know what they are and to make a statement that is positively directed towards something better. How to do that is something each follower of Christ ought to ponder. We are challenged by Paul not to be conformed to this world but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds…(Romans 12:2) Too often we do not meet this challenge—and too often we do not even think about it. But it is at the heart of our faith and the heart of the abundant life Christ came to give to us…Perhaps we should be more intentional about living out our faith in our culture. And maybe not just at Carnival season but all year round…

Last week Nancy and I visited Yaxcopoil, a hacienda about 25 miles outside Merida. At the turn of the century the hacienda system was in full operation, providing much of the hemp the world had needed for sailing ships and continued to need for rope and material for World War I. The income from the henequen plant made enough people rich for Merida to claim the world’s highest “millionaire-per-capita” title—but it also kept many people in servitude in a way comparable to the plantation system in pre-Civil War United States. Then in 1932 the president of Mexico broke up all the haciendas, which were huge land grants, giving title of the land in parcels to individuals and communities, and the culture had to change. Some time later nylon was invented, the world stopped using hemp, and the industry died.

This particular hacienda we visited began as a cattle ranch in the 1800’s and in the time of its greatest splendor stretched for around 22,000 acres. It now consists of a large, partly decaying, main house, remnants of the old production and warehouse buildings and machinery, and a few acres around them. One of the rooms is the Maya Room, and contains artifacts found on the grounds over the years. The hacienda continued to process henequen until 1982, although the amount of production was not great. Other haciendas have been restored for tourists, but this one was just right for us. The guide who showed us around had actually worked on the hacienda while it was still operating, as had his father and, I suppose, his father’s father. He was obviously proud of the old house and eager to give us a positive impression of it—which we received.


This morning I preached at a church in the south part of the city of Merida. It was the anniversary of the church, and, along with me as guest preacher there were three invited special music groups and one soloist. One of the groups was a trio, which sang contemporary Christian music.

A second was a men’s chorus—strong and enthusiastic in its rendition of both traditional and contemporary songs. The third was a guitar duet that played traditional Yucatecan tunes with Christian words. The soloist sang beautiful contemporary works. All together there were fourteen special musical numbers…And my preaching. They had canceled the Sunday School hour expecting the service to be a bit longer than usual—and their expectations were met…


After the worship service there was a convivio , that is a small meal. This worship was my fourth since arriving here, and the fourth which included a convivio. And each menu was the same—coca-cola and corn tortillas wrapped around shredded chicken and onion. Delicious and no digestive problems…

Then this evening I preached at the church of our host, Don Bito. This service was shorter (less music, not less preaching) and did not have a convivio, which meant a stop at Subway on the way home. The spirit of the people was very good and the quality of music had vastly improved since the last time I was there, a year ago. Back then I noted that the group leading the music half way through the musical set basically abandoned all pretext of tonality in favor of volume. This time the leaders, drums, guitar and keyboard were pretty good. You could tell someone had been working with them.


It is a great privilege to share in the worship of God in these services. Nancy and I are always greeted as special people and honored in some way. I have conversations with the people, and usually end up joking with some of the little children. The old men and women are patient and the younger ones energetic. Huipil (traditional dress) and contemporary clothing is mixed, and children play on the floor. In all of it God is honored, and we are thankful that we can be a part of it.

The first week of classes is finished, and it seems to have gone well. I have found the classroom, received a list of students, figured out how to arrange the canon (PowerPoint projector), and engaged the students in both Las Epístolas Paulinas (class photos here) and Homilética.


At the seminary the weekly schedule of classes begins Monday at around 10 in the morning and concludes around noon on Thursday. After the last class of the week there is a chapel in a church adjacent to the seminary, then the students go to their campo, their place of ministry and service. Every student has at least one campo, and the professors do as well.

The campo is always a church, and while some are in the city of Merida, most are outside the city in one of the small rural Mayan villages that dot the jungles of the Yucatan. The students go to their campo and stay there, usually sleeping in a hammock in a room in the church. They arrive when they can on Thursday or Friday, and stay until the last church service is held, which is usually Sunday evening. Then the student returns to Merida, to the dorms, and begins classes Monday. Since some of the campos are as far as five hours by bus (almost all students travel by bus) this often means arriving in the village on Thursday evening and returning to the seminary in the early morning hours on Monday. Quite a schedule!

Some of the churches compensate the students a bit, but many only receive enough support from the church to pay for the bus to and from the campo. Their meals are provided by members of the church (cooked in a kitchen like that in the photo), and their ministry includes visitation, youth work, worship leading and teaching and preaching. Many of the students are in effect pastors of the churches they serve, and most of the churches are very small and have no other staff of any kind.


The professors usually serve as the pastor of one of the larger churches in the area, but that does not mean the church is large. Or that the building is expansive. Or that the compensation is generous. What it does mean is that both student and professor work hard and for little remuneration. In fact the seminary life here is one which is so demanding that I doubt many seminary students or staff in the United States would tolerate it for very long. But it is the way of life here…

Last night I heard a rustle of footsteps outside my window, then the music began. I went to the front door and there was most of the student body of the seminary—they were there to serenade me for my 65th birthday. I was very surprised and honored as they gathered around and, with two Mexican guitar accompanists, sang traditional Mexican fiesta and cumpleaño songs and shouted the usual Mexican cries of enthusiasm. When the singing was over each person came up to me, hugged or shook my hand and said a few words of blessing for my birthday. Then they went back to the dorms. Their genuine expressions of blessing and well-wishing were moving to me, while I must admit that their appearance was amusing. The weather here has not been hot since my arrival—it only reached 86 degrees yesterday and the evening was cool enough that I put on a long sleeved tshirt-but it was amusing to me that to the people here it was so cold that the singers were dressed in heavy coats, hats and scarves. As they sang they reminded me of Christmas carolers back home, and I guess the air to them felt like winter snow to us…


Such is the stuff of life here. Teaching classes, getting to know people, and sharing in life in another culture. Once again I am thankful to God for the opportunity to enrich and to be enriched—for his call to serve and the blessings it brings. Giving to others while learning to see faith through their eyes is one of the great joys of life. It is the body of Christ in its diversity and humanity, the way it was meant to be. And Nancy and I get to be a part of it!

To get to Merida, Yucatan, Mexico, I took a flight from Greensboro to Houston then on to Merida. The first leg, from Greensboro, is the longest, while the second flies over the Gulf of Mexico and takes about an hour and a half. At the airport in Houston I bumped into David Correa, one of the professors at El Seminario Presbiteriano de San Pablo, and we arranged to sit together on the flight to Merida. It was good to catch up with the doings of the people of the seminary, although some of the doings were not happy ones, and to get a bit more information on what I would be facing when I arrived.

On arrival I was met by Mark Legters, David (Bito) and Jean’s son, and, with bike in box in the back, was driven in his pickup to the Legters’ home—my home for the next 2 ½ months.


On arrival I settled into the corner room which has been set aside for my lengthy visits. The next day, Sunday, after working on some of my classes I had lunch with Antonio and Ruth, and their four month old Jonatan. The little one is healthy and happy, and just about half the weight of my four month old grandson, Jacques. It was delightful to catch up with Antonio, who had been a trainee in Shoreline, and to hear how he has been serving God since he left us—and with some of the gifts he honed while in our midst.

Sunday evening was spent working on details of my class—while watching the SuperBowl and listening to the Spanish broadcast announcers. Need I say that, despite the sad ending, it was a great game? That evening, actually early a.m. Monday, Dave and Jean arrived back from taking their daughter Debbie to the airport in Cancun, so the morning began with our breakfast together. After finishing, and after a bit more final preparation, I walked the 100 yards from the house to the seminary and met for the first time with my class.


I am teaching Las Epístolas Paulinas (The Letters of Paul) to second year students, and also Homiletica IV (Preaching IV) to the fourth year students. On meeting the class for the first time I was impressed with their maturity and eagerness. There are 12 in the Epistles class, 10 men and 2 women, and for the first time I find several students taking notes with laptops. The seminary is now wired for wireless internet, another new thing, and I have been told that it may be possible to do the second half of my class (after the Easter break) via the internet. I need to explore that option as I probably will not return for the rest of the semester since the nine weeks from now to the break is about as long as I can commit to being here.

While the economic situation world-wide has and will have an impact on this part of Mexico, what I see so far would indicate that the impact is not profound. Yesterday I went into one of the local malls to get a SIM card for my phone, and it was crowded. The parking lot was full and the stores were teeming with people, most of whom had something in hand that they had purchased. The seminary has experienced some loss of support from the United States, but it has never had what it has needed and things seem to get along. It saddens me when I hear that someone or some church has cut back on mission giving, particularly when the cut back is done in order to maintain something that is not really needed at home.

A fair amount of what we hear about Mexico in the US media has a negative slant. Particularly the impact of drugs and drug cartels on the culture. It is a sad fact of life here that there is more violence connected with drug dealing than ever before, but the Wall Street Journal last week had a very insightful comment on that phenomenon. First, it said that the root cause was the government´s courageous effort to curtail the power of the drug cartels. Second, it added that if the current rate of homicide in Mexico continues to climb it may eventually reach as high a level as that of—Louisana. Ah, the perspective that world awareness gives…

So, for the next 9 weeks my life will revolve around two classes at a seminary in Mexico. It is an investment in the future of the church here, and one which I am most grateful to be able to make. Nancy will be joining me in a couple days, and during her month here will offer English classes through Antonio´s church and one or two schools in the area. That also is an investment in the future, and one which she is most grateful to be able to make. In both cases we find satisfaction and joy in the words of Jesus which Paul quoted to the elders at Ephesus, Hay más dicha en dar que en recibir—which, of course, means It is more blessed to give than to receive… A small saying but one which could not be more true…