I recently spoke with a friend who is struggling with morning sickness in the early stages of pregnancy, and our conversation took me back to my own pregnancy four years ago. I was the typical first-time mom. I read a stack books on pregnancy, learning everything I could about the new life growing inside me. I took my prenatal vitamins religiously, being sure I had the recommended amounts of iron, calcium, and folic acid. I made a diet plan, determined to eat right, count those extra 500 daily calories, and steer clear of sweets and soft drinks.

Remembering a favorite veggie from my childhood, I bought a few pounds of cucumbers, peeled and sliced them, then placed them into containers of apple cider vinegar to soak in the fridge. A good ol’ Southern way to eat fresh cucumbers! I couldn’t wait to dig in the next day.

But when I awoke the following morning, I said hello to nausea and goodbye to eating well! I couldn’t keep anything down. Like many pregnant women, I discovered “morning sickness” is a very loose term that can mean, “morning-noon-and-night” sickness. As soon as Robbie sprayed on his cologne that morning, I went running for the bathroom and never looked back. The very thought of those huge containers of cukes in vinegar gave me cold chills. I couldn’t even go in the kitchen, let alone open the fridge. The only things I managed to keep down were dry toast and Sprite (which had been a definite no-no just 24 short hours before). My carefully crafted diet plan was decidedly thrown out the window until the end of the first trimester.

It amazed me how quickly my tastes changed! Poor Robbie was given the task of disposing of two large jars of cucumbers and vinegar (double-bagging to spare me the pungent aroma). In less than 24 hours, what had seemed so delicious was the very thing that made me sick.

What is the Lord doing in your life to change your tastes? Do you have an appetite for the things of the world? Unlike my first-trimester experience, God gives us a taste for good things. He helps us develop a disgust for all that is worldly and unholy, and a hunger for the pure and right. We’ve seen it time and time again with new Christians here in Honduras; a new creature in Christ will have new desires, new goals, new dreams. I pray that my tastes will keep changing, molding my will into His will.

Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. –Psalm 37:4

ATTENTION "Real Missions, Real Life" Readers! March is "Question and Answer" Month! Is there something you would like to know about life on the mission field? Every reader who submits a question will be entered in a drawing to win a Honduran coffee gift basket! Email me your question(s) at christine@teamhonduras.com.

Last year, my mom sent me a stack of old letters that my dad had written to her when he was in graduate school in 1980. He had gone to Florida for six weeks, leaving my mom and me in North Carolina. I was shocked to read the following words in a letter that he had written when I was just an infant:



Giving over completely to God I believe means a sacrifice. You don’t sacrifice to God that which is of little value or low esteem. My family—you and Chris—are of very high value to me. In a real sense you are both my sacrifice to God. I believe he’s accepted it. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to someday see her tearfully walk up the airplane ramp with her husband to go to the mission field? God may call upon her to sacrifice family time for His work. I want her to be able to respond unhesitatingly to that call.

I couldn't believe it! My father had very specifically predicted my life’s course when I was only four months old! Was he some kind of modern-day prophet?!?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was not so much a prediction as it was a decision. He had not merely guessed at how my life would turn out. He had determined which way he wanted me to go—the way of sacrifice.

The decision to serve the Lord is not a single one. It’s hundreds of thousands of decisions made habitually over many years. For me, it began with decisions I did not even make myself…going to church every Sunday, reading a Bible story and praying each night, attending a Christian school. These were life-altering decisions that my parents made for me.

But sometimes it’s those seemingly trivial decisions that become very important down the road. I remember countless spankings because of my refusal to speak to adults. Instead of saying, “Oh, she’s just shy. It’s a stage; she’ll get over it,” my parents forced me to be polite. And I am thankful for that training when I greet the first-time visitors each Sunday at our church. I still feel timid inside, but my parents helped me win that battle years ago. I can't help but wonder if I could have ever worked up the nerve on my own to knock on a stranger's door and give them the gospel; I seriously doubt it. My parents trained me to overcome my natural shyness so that it would not hinder me from doing the Lord's work one day.

Doing God’s will is not an “event” our children will encounter one day down the road. It’s today. It’s now. It means I can’t let Claire tell me “No!” It means I make her come when I call. It means I discipline her attitude, not simply her actions. Preparing my daughter for lifetime service to the Lord is an intimidating thought. But, thank the Lord, it’s brought about by one decision at a time, beginning with the “little things.”

“You’re throwing these away?!?” The garbage man who had begun to rummage through our bags pulled out several old magazines and held them up, his face incredulous.
“Well, yes…,” I stammered, a little embarrassed.

“I can sell these!” He pulled them out one by one, wiped clean the ones soiled by discarded food, and carefully set them aside. “Tell me when you are going to throw out good stuff like this!” He looked suspiciously at our other bags in the back of the truck. I knew he would go through those as well.

There are few things more sobering than having someone rummage through your trash in search of a treasure. When we take our trash to the dump, I watch in horror as the people who live there delve into the bags and scarf down old pizza slices, stale bread, and overly ripe fruit. How can we have so much and not even realize it? I always think as we leave.


We are extremely rich compared to the average Honduran, but not simply because of our material possessions. We have the incredible treasure of a personal relationship with the God of the Universe. Every day, we can take time to communicate with our Creator. Yet we often take this precious gift for granted.
As we step into eternity and the Lord reads our names from the Lamb’s Book of Life, will we be asked by a tearful soul, “You knew this and did not tell me?”?
What does your relationship with God mean to you? Is it as unimportant as yesterday’s trash, or do you treat it as a valuable treasure, sharing it with those you meet? Someone you know is starving for what you have. Tell him about Jesus today.

Timid little Nairobi approached me after church to tell me that she would like someone to tell her more about going to Heaven. Since the bus was about to leave, I made arrangements to visit her as soon as possible so that I could continue our conversation.

After I arrived at Nairobi’s house, I asked her grandmother's permission to talk to Nairobi about trusting Christ. She gave her consent, and Nairobi took my hand, leading me to the drab couch in the tiny living room. I opened by New Testament to the Romans’ Road, beginning with Romans 3:23.

“Nairobi, do you know that you are a sinner? The Bible says that we all have sinned, done wrong things against God.” I was surprised to see tears stream down her little face. Although she was only nine years old, the Holy Spirit was convicting her of her sin. She nodded solemnly.

“That’s why I want to get saved,” she whispered. With great joy, I was able to show Nairobi the rest of the Romans’ Road and lead her in a prayer to trust Christ as her Savior. It was a happy day in Nairobi’s house.

As exciting as it was to lead Nairobi to Christ, I wanted to proceed with caution. In working with children, we must be careful when it comes to salvation decisions. One can talk a nine year-old into almost anything; they are usually very eager to please adults whom they respect. I wanted to be sure that I had the right balance of showing her the need to trust Christ, while making sure that any decision made was her own and not mine. It’s easy to lead a little child in a prayer, but if they are not ready or don’t understand the decision they are making, such a prayer can result in a false confidence. Many teens and adults doubt their salvation because they prayed a prayer as a child that they have little memory of. They’ve simply been told, “Remember? You asked Jesus into your heart when you were four years old.”

On the other hand, children certainly can come to Christ. They are capable of understanding their sinfulness and need of a Savior. And we must express to them the importance of trusting Christ at a young age, before the world has a chance to take root in their hearts. But in our zeal to lead them to Christ, we must not forget the necessity of each individual making his own choice.

Also, after a child prays to trust Christ, it’s often difficult to know whether his
profession was sincere or not. Marks of a Christian, such as turning from the world or confessing Christ before others, are sometimes more difficult to identify in a young child. Because they are not involved in deep sin, it may be difficult to see a lifestyle change. Sincere or not, they may simply lack the words to clearly describe their decision to trust Christ because of their young age. This doesn’t mean that we discourage them—“You must not have really asked Jesus into your heart!”—but that we simply wait patiently for the signs to appear, all the while encouraging them to know Christ.

I was pleased to see Nairobi return to my class the next Wednesday. We had a full room, over thirty boys and girls squeezed into a tiny space. On this particular night, I had to work harder than usual to keep the class’s attention. Then a teacher came running in from an adjoining classroom needing help. A sink had come off the wall, shattering on impact, and a geyser of water from the wall was flooding the 2-5 year-olds’ class. An usher was called to shut off the water and the teacher assistants were sent for mops and buckets. The 2-5 year olds were filed into our class to finish the Bible story about Elijah.

Amid all this chaos, a little girl sat on the front row, her shining eyes never leaving my face. Nairobi listened eagerly to the Bible story, hungry for every word. Amazingly, the mayhem around us didn’t seem to bother her a bit.

After church, she found me with Claire, cleaning up the classroom. “I want to give these toys to your little girl.” She carefully pulled a small plastic dish, fork, spoon, and hairbrush from her bag and gave them to Claire. She tried to downplay the magnitude of her sacrifice, “I’m too big to play with them now.” But I saw her look at them longingly. She was giving up something that was very special to her.

As I watched Claire hug Nairobi and examine the little toys one by one, I prayed that the Lord would one day work in my daughter’s heart in such a miraculous way. It's my desire for her that we would not see an empty profession that would later lead to doubt, but a real repentance resulting in a changed heart.

If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. -I John 1:7

If you are like me, you've been watching the footage of the devastation in Haiti and your heart aches to do something. There are a lot of charitable organizations out there, but how much of your money really be used to help the Haitian people?

Are you burdened to help the earthquake victims in Haiti but unsure of the best way to give? Please let me introduce you to Medical Missions Outreach, an organization that works with missionaries on foreign fields to minister to the hurting with the ultimate goal of sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ.


I have been privileged to be a part of two medical brigades and a surgical team organized by MMO; these efforts allowed us to minister to people of our community as an outreach of our local church. Each patient who came through the clinic heard a gospel presentation and was given an opportunity to trust Christ; many of these patients prayed that week to trust Christ as their personal Savior. We missionaries then followed up on all these decisions, visiting them in their homes to encourage them to grow in their faith.

Medical Missions Outreach, unlike many organizations of its type, is not simply charity with a missions label slapped on. MMO ministers to the hurting just as Jesus Christ did—healing the body in order to reach the dying soul. This is medical missions done right.

MMO has assembled an emergency surgical team that will arrive in Haiti this Sunday for a week-long tour of duty. They will be working 12 hour shifts in order to keep the surgical center operational 24 hours a day. There are still some supplies that they need to purchase: narcotics for the anesthesia, surgical supplies in bulk, and overage fees on the luggage.

This is an excellent, reliable way to help the precious souls in Haiti whose lives are in ruins. For a list of needs and information for donations, click here. Above all, please pray for this team and the patients they will see this week. What an awesome opportunity to turn the worst day in someone’s live into the best day, telling them of the One Who died so that they might live!

Yesterday afternoon, like any Saturday in Honduras, we headed to church to General Visitation. After meeting at church and sending the kids to the nursery, nineteen of us piled into two vehicles and drove to a nearby neighborhood. As we headed down the road, I glanced out the window and saw a disturbing sight. A man was hiding behind the corner of a building; he was carrying a large rifle and peering around the corner. I pointed him out as we passed, and everyone sighed in resignation. "Oh no, another thief...I hope no one gets hurt." It's amazing to me what becomes "normal" in a third-world country.

We had a great time of knocking doors, and although no one trusted Christ, we found several who were interested and would be good prospects for follow-up visits. Once again we piled into our vehicles and headed back toward church to pick up the kids. But as we neared the paved road that led back to church, we saw a large crowd of people and many parked vehicles. I immediately remembered the armed man we had seen on the way to church and prayed no one had been killed. As we neared the bridge that led back to church, we stopped beside the road to ask what was going on.

"Protesters have taken control of the bridge. A lady in this neighborhood is planning on putting up a cellular phone tower on her property and the protesters don't want her to. Everyone is afraid of getting cancer from the tower."

In dismay, we stopped our vehicle on the edge of the dirt road and talked about what to do. Over half of us lived on this side of the blockade, but many of us had children at the church. I had to find a way to get to Claire. And the only way across was this bridge. No one knew how long the protesters would maintain control of the bridge, and it starting to get dark.


Robbie had to stay with part of the group and the vehicles; I had to go get Claire. He sent Oscar, an older teenage boy from our church, to walk with me and a couple of other ladies who lived on the other side of the bridge. We weaved through cars and bystanders, nearing the bridge cautiously. As we approached, we saw that the protesters had used large rocks to block the bridge, and no one was passing, not even on foot. I looked down at the swirling waters of the brown river below. I could cross easily to get to Claire, but was unsure of how I could manage on the way back, if I were holding her. Lord, please help us cross!

I decided to look confident and continue toward the blockade. No one looked very hostile, and I doubted they would stop a foreigner accompanied by a body guard (Oscar had shoved his hands into the front of his shirt to look like he was carrying a gun).

As I got within ten feet of the blockade, the police officers made their move. We froze in place, waiting to see what would happen. They grabbed the rocks and moved them to the sidewalks lining the bridge. A few delayed motorcyclists, frustrated with the blockade, assisted them. Some of the protesters grabbed rocks and raised them in defiance, threatening to throw them at the police. Thankfully, they eventually lowered them and moved to the road's edge to sulk.

We passed through without incident and arrived safely at the church. I took Claire in my arms and began the trek back to the vehicles. By the time we reached the bridge this time, all that was left of the incident was a long line of traffic (about an hour's wait on both sides). Robbie's face melted with relief as he spotted us turning up the street where the van was parked. We headed home with prayers on our lips and gratefulness in our hearts.

I wondered on the way home how many of our friends and supporters back in the States said a routine prayer for our safety that day, never knowing how the Lord would answer. Thank you to each of you that calls out our names to God each day; I know we are on many prayer lists. Please know that a simple prayer of "Lord, please keep the Ellis family safe," means the world to our family. We can cross barricades and face danger with confidence and peace in our hearts, knowing Who is in control.

Is this really going to work? I have to admit, this was my thought as Robbie, Matt Goins (our partner), and I got out of the truck on our first day of door-to-door visitation in Honduras. Years of preparation had led up to this day. Robbie and Matt had studied Pastoral Ministries with a Missions minor at Pensacola Christian College. I had majored in Spanish Education. We had learned from the best exactly how to give the gospel, plant a church, and disciple new believers. We had faithfully attended Mission Prayer Band to hear the wisdom of those who had gone before us. We had prayed for months over different countries, learning about their needs and talking with missionaries that served there. We had worked on bus routes and taught Sunday School classes. The Lord had finally led us to form Team Honduras, together with the Goins family, to reach this needy Central American country with the light of the gospel.

But here we were in the middle of a third-world country, in a city where we knew no one. We were outsiders, foreigners with thick accents and little knowledge of the culture. We didn't have a church to invite anyone to yet--we didn't even have a lead on a place to meet. We each held in our hands a little notecard with carefully-planned survey questions on it. We would ask, "Do you believe the Bible is the perfect Word of God? Do you believe in heaven and hell?" The series of questions would hopefully give us a good place to begin to share the gospel. I prayed I would be able to understand their answers. Would they even take us seriously? As we headed to that first door, I said a silent prayer and struggled against the doubt. Lord, is this really going to work?


How wonderful it is to know that God is faithful! Despite our initial trepidation, a teenage boy trusted Christ that first day on visitation, and many more followed in the weeks to come. We formed a small Bible study on the porch of a convert; the small study of six people grew and grew. We rented an empty house to accomodate our increasing numbers. A charter was drawn and signed to officially form the church. In five years of ministry, we have seen many precious souls come to Christ and grow in their faith. The church has grown (averaging around 200 each service) and is now in its first building program. We have staff in training to found a children’s home and Christian school so that young people can be trained to go into surrounding areas with the good news that Jesus saves. Plans for a Bible Institute are in the works for those who surrender to the call to full-time ministry.


We can now confidently say: It does work. The Lord has proven Himself to us again and again. The promises of the Bible are true and still change lives.


And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. -II Corinthians 12:9