Heavy Heart

My heart is heavy this morning because of two things. The first is the death of Krystal Yoder. I knew Val and Krystal semi well while we were at SMBI. I wonder how their hearts and emotions are this morning. True, Krystal has been sick for some time, but I do not believe anyone was expecting this to happen.
The second is in relation to the mission in Guatamala. To give you the details on this I will post Brian's email.

Dear people,

First, let's keep the facts straight. It's interesting how one hard fact can morph and expand and multiply and divide until it becomes a host of reports far from the original truth. A phone threat can become a kidnapping, a kidnapping can turn into two or three, and soon there were shots fired, and before you know it, one measly phone call turns into a funeral next Friday and all the missionaries are coming home. (And please don't take that last sentence and say "the email said so!")

So let's be sticklers for the truth. If this is announced or discussed in your church tomorrow, you already know the facts straight from the source. There were two phone calls, no more, no less, and nothing else. Tony is out of Guatemala City and in a remote area. The mission is taking extra precautions, but is by no means closing shop.

Since my last report at noon, there were another couple of incidents that added to the pressure, but were unrelated to the threat.

This afternoon, I was trying to get some studying done (extraordinarily difficult) when I got a phone call about Jerlin Lopez, a young married man in our congregation. Jerlin was in an accident, and could I please go check it out? I hurried to the pickup, glanced nervously up and down the street, and drove to the mission. Lowell Yoder went with me, and we stopped to pick up Urbano, the body-shop man. We found Jerlin unhurt, but very shaken. "Why does this happen to me?" he asked.

He had reason to ask. He cut his hand in a miter saw on Monday, and this is his second traffic accident in four weeks. Today he rear-ended a stopped bus, and pretty well totalled his pickup. No one was hurt. He finally came to an settlement agreement with the bus driver, and his newly-painted, mangled pickup was towed away.

I called him this evening. His wife Corina answered the phone, crying. I told her that thousands of people in the States are praying for this extortion threat, and that I would mention their accident in the next update. Surely some of the strength of those prayers will be turned toward them. They're hurting tonight. Why is God allowing all of this?

As I was standing at the accident site, my phone rang. It was Janelle. "There are two men knocking at the front door, and I don't recognize them through the peephole. Do I open?" "No," I advised. "Let them think no one is home!" I called one of the fellows at the mission and asked him to drive down and check on things.

As I stood there, something dawned on me. Whoever made the second phone call must think that my number is the mission number, because he asked for Tony. That means that maybe he doesn't know as much as he lets on. And if he lifted my number out of the phone book... Suddenly it dawned on me that my address is beside the listing for Mennonite Air Missions. So if they come looking, they'd logically come to my place first. It was a silent drive home.

When I got to the mission, Starla informed me that the "unknown men" were actually a man from church and his brother, who wanted to talk to me. It was a relief to know that, but it was hard to shake off my reasonings about the phone book.

When I got home, Janelle and I put into action an idea that we'd been thinking about since noon. Why don't we just pack up and go to San Lucas for the night? The mission rents a house out there, and it's currently empty. We grabbed some food, packed some bedding, and by 5:00, were heading out of our deserted, rutted, dirt street.

When we drove into the gates at the house in San Lucas, we felt like a weight had partially fallen from us. This grassy, wooded area is a far cry from our walled-in, factory-enclosed fort in the city. Here there would be no anonymous phone calls, and at least for one or two nights, we could be away from some of the pressure. Granted, there are still people at Mission Headquarters, but we're only a phone call and fifteen minutes away.

If you need a prayer request on top of the rest, I guess I'll put myself in as an option. I feel a little tired and emotionally spent tonight, and flashes of irritation or emotion are nearer the surface than they should be. Plus, I'm up to preach tomorrow morning, and am still not exactly sure where I'm going with a message. Many people will come tomorrow, many people with many special needs. There is an instruction class of ten to prepare for and teach. Pray for the grace to continue to give when all we feel like doing is crawling into a hole.

Janelle is sitting by the fire, reading me excerpts from Psalm 37, and with those promises, we will rest.

Until later,

Brian Yoder