A friend of mine, Betsy Hake, has been a missionary in Honduras for almost 40 years. About 20 years ago the Lord burdened her heart to present Christ and His love to those who are the least likely to ever walk into a church. Among those are the women and men prostitutes of Tegucigalpa and their children. Her organization is called Jericho Ministries. The following is taken from both an interview with her and her blog posting of July 24, 2015. It illustrates how God is at work in places we may not want to go.

I wondered why our neighbor left a large terra cotta pot at her back gate when she moved away. In time I would realize that it was cracked. But I didn’t see the flaw or the pot’s potential for a long time. Now I see that our neighbor left us a treasure.

About twenty feet from the pot I had planted a crepe myrtle tree. I spent hours each year pruning the limbs, watering the roots, and mowing around it. In June each summer the limbs hung heavy with vibrant purple blossoms. In the fall the blossoms turned to berry-like seeds.

In a recent church skit, a man named David played the part of Goliath. That irony set me to thinking, “Isn’t there a lesson here?  Did David become Goliath?”

There is something about danger that fascinates us. We are drawn to it. We know we shouldn’t be, but we are. And sometimes we live to regret that decision.

Someone has estimated that 15.4 million Americans were the victims of identity theft and fraud in 2016. Put at risk were financial accounts, credit health, job prospects, personal reputations, and even medical records. Using someone else’s personal information can allow thieves to take out loans, file tax returns, and pick up prescription drugs.

Butterflies are beautiful, but fragile. In fact, it has been said that if you touch a butterfly’s wings the creature may actually die. In the past few years, biologists have discovered why that’s true. If you catch a butterfly and release it, you will see a bright yellow or green iridescent dust on your hand. That shining dust is critical to the butterfly’s ability to fly. Without it, it cannot live.

Children can teach us a lot, especially young children. I learned something last fall by watching a landscaper and his four-year-old son. The father was unloading bales of pine straw, breaking them up, and spreading large handfuls around bushes and flowers. He quickly spread a thick layer of loose straw around all the plants, without covering them up. His son snatched a tiny handful of straw from a broken bale, dropped it close to a flower, then gleefully rushed back to get another handful. He repeated this over and over. The smile on the boy’s face and the shine in his eyes made it evident that he was proud to be helping his father with his landscaping.

Every journey, every venture, every project has three stages: beginning, middle, and end. In the beginning there is the promise of adventure and the quest of the unknown. At the end there is a sense of accomplishment. But in the middle, that is where the whole experience can just seem like a lot of work. Things are not so new anymore and the end seems far away. That’s when we are all tempted to stop halfway through and settle for less than we had hoped for. But if we do that, we miss God’s best for us.

One day my wife, Debi, and I were startled by a bumping noise coming from somewhere behind the clothes dryer. The noise would make repetitive bumps and then stop for a time and start back. I pulled the dryer out from the wall and disconnected the cord from the outlet.

Years ago, a construction foreman lost his job because he would not substitute cheaper materials for the ones called for in the blueprint. The project manager was cutting corners to pad the owner’s pocket. The foreman did not challenge the company in court. He lost his income, but gained a reputation for being honest. He forgave the one who persecuted him.