The Blog

It’s amazing to me how things can be so different and yet so much alike as we traveled through the Philippines. For instance, trees, in their varieties and differences are all alike. And fields as well, though they might yield different crops, are the same. And how the Philippines could seem to me so similar to Iowa, but still so different.

Hot and humid air, along with joyful faces that would soon become my friends, greeted us as we stepped out of the Bacolod airport, and aside from the smell, I almost instantly felt at home. Back in Iowa on a day like that, I would have been begging Mom to take me to the lake. Instead of a lake, though, I piled into the vans with the rest of the team and we drove to our destination.

In a strange way, every drive we took connected me to Iowa. I have a sneaking suspicion that if my father were to move to the Philippines he would be right at home driving there. But that’s not why the drives reminded me of Iowa. Rather, it was the sights and the blowing air conditioner that brought me back to my first home. The fields, full of green plants made me think of the endless lines of corn I see in Iowa. Something reminded me, every day, of my hometown and my family, and I managed to get quite homesick.

But even though the Philippines reminded me so much of Iowa, there were differences that constantly reminded me that I wasn’t really there. The buildings along the sides of the road don’t look like the buildings in Milford...most of the time. People pile onto motorcycles and sidecars eight, nine, and ten at a time. And the smells were different, too. I’m not sure my mind knew what to think, with the constantly clashing similarities and unfamiliarity of Negros Island.

The services we did, were also different in spite of their sameness. The God we worshiped was the same and the way we worshiped was similar, but there was something different, something new, something I’d never really experienced before. God used me there in ways I’ve not been used before. He anointed me to pray like I’d never been anointed to pray before. I don’t even really know how to even explain what God did.

I remember one night of the convention, which was held in a gym that had sides that opened up to the outside and reminded me of the Okoboji Lakes Bible and Missionary Bible Conference building, God showed up in an amazing way. His presence was so thick among us that people were falling on their faces before God before we even got a chance to pray for them. I was outside, walking back and forth, praying and thinking, and God asked me, “Have you gotten everything from Me that I have for you? Is that why you’re just kinda standing out here?”

Here in America, there’re so many times during an altar call when we’ll talk ourselves out of going down or up or whatever you want to call it because we think we’re too good. We think we’re fine. We’re leaders. Teachers. Pastors. Whatever. We think that we’re at a point that we don’t need to go to the altar to get ahold of God anymore. But that night, pastors, teachers, leaders in the churches were down at the altar seeking God, not caring about what anyone else thought or whether or not they’d still be secure in their position because they’d gone down to the altar; they just plain didn’t care about anything but getting ahold of God. They laid their pride completely aside and came humbly before God and He met them where they were at.

I think that was one of the differences that stood out the most to me: the way the Filipino people will worship with complete abandon and humility. It makes me sad to think of our churches and the way we worship; the way I worship. I can only pray that the passion that God has put in me from this trip will stick around. Forever.