The pace of life on the mission field genuinely surprised me. Being used to the busyness of ministry in the States, I had braced myself for the inevitable boredom that was to come. I envisioned moving from New York City to Mayberry. This was going to take some adjusting.


I soon discovered ministry is busy wherever you are. There are church services, special activities, discipleships, counseling sessions, visitation, and staff meeting. Somewhere in there, I'm supposed to find time to prepare meals and clean house. With the arrival of a group from the U.S., life becomes a whirlwind.


Where does family time fit into all this? Will Claire suffer from Mama and Daddy being on call 24/7?


I'm the first to confess, I don't have it all figured out. I know the key is balance...now how do we strike it? But I would like to share some things the Lord has taught Robbie and me over the past few years about a harmony of family time and ministry.


1. My husband is the head of our home. The Lord placed my husband as the head of this family; no other man has this role. The Lord gives Robbie wisdom to decide exactly what our family can handle. Every family should serve in the church; but not every family can be involved to the same capacity. I must trust the leadership of my husband. He would tell you that I tend to frequently over commit. I recall one weekend in particular that we had a church event the weekend before we left for furlough in the United States. Already in the flurry of packing and organizing for our trip, I was also in charge of the meal for this event. Instead of asking someone for help, or ordering chop-suey from the Chinese restaurant (as my husband suggested), I decided to make the food myself. For one hundred people. Somewhere around 1AM, I was standing in the kitchen peeling eggs for the potato salad, rolling my eyes at myself. Dumb, dumb, dumb! Why didn't I listen to my husband? As hard as it is to admit at times, there's a reason I'm not in charge!


2. My relationship with the Lord is top priority. It becomes pretty obvious when I become too busy doing and not being with the Lord. My schedule is overflowing, I frantically rush from activity to activity, and I begin to resent my ministry. If everything I do doesn't revolve around Him, it will quickly fall apart. And my daughter needs to see that. Years ago, before I was married, my cousin Kimberly shared something the Lord was teaching her that really stuck with me. She had the habit of rising early to have her devotions before her two young boys were awake each morning. But one day it occurred to her that her little ones didn't see Mama reading her Bible and praying each day. Yes, she probably had fewer distractions with the boys asleep, but it was important to her that they know she had her quiet time with the Lord. She began waiting until they were awake, then sent them out to play on the patio just after breakfast. They could see each other through the glass, and they knew this was Mama's time to be with the Lord. I've incorporated the same habit now that I have Claire; some mornings she even sits beside me and looks through a Bible picture book because she wants to "have her devotions" as well. My quiet time is the most important part of the day, and all other activities must take a backseat to my spending time with the Lord.


3. My daughter will benefit from our family's involvement in the ministry. We all hear horror stories of pastors becoming so involved in the ministry that they lose their own children. Certainly there is a dangerous extreme of trying to "save the world" yet losing one's own family in the process. But somehow, I believe the devil has deceived us at times with the lie that the ministry is competing against our family and we must be on guard for fear of losing our children by "serving the Lord too much." The ministry is not the antagonist of my family time. If we are following Biblical principles and submitting to the leadership of the head our homes, I believe the Lord will give us a beautiful balance and enable us to serve the Him with our children. Some of my favorite times with Claire have been watching her sweep the church alongside me, her chubby hands grasping a small broom that we bought just so she could clean the Lord's house. She plays with children on visitation while we talk to their parents about their salvation. She passes out napkins at the men's meeting while I serve the plates of food. She loves being part of the ministry!


In a small seaside town about an hour north of our church, lives a national pastor whom our church supports. While we ate dinner with him and his wife one night, they shared their salvation testimonies, then began to tell how their children had trusted Christ. The story of their son's decision was one of the sweetest I've ever heard.

"One Sunday night, a visitor raised his hand during the invitation,
indicating that he wanted to trust Christ. I went to him and asked him to go
next door to my house to talk further. But I saw that my four year-old son would
be left alone in the pew, since my wife was praying with a lady, so I decided to
bring him along with me. In our living room, I gave Axel, Jr., a basket of toys
and he began to play quietly as I shared the gospel with the visitor. I didn't
think my little boy was even listening as I read the verses from the Roman's
Road; I knelt to lead the man in a prayer of repentance, and when I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see little Axel kneeling beside me, his lips moving in a
silent prayer. He never said a word to me; he simply finished praying then
returned to his toys. The next morning at breakfast, he announced to the family,
'I'm going to heaven, now, too!' My wife looked at me in surprise, and I asked
Axel why he believed he was going to heaven. 'Because I prayed and asked Jesus
into my heart last night!' Ever since that night, Axel has always given a
confident testimony of his decision to trust Christ as Savior."

What a beautiful example of a man's service to the Lord resulting in the salvation of his son! It's my prayer that our family's involvement in the ministry influences Claire's heart for eternity. Sometimes, it may mean saying no. Other times, it may mean an incredibly busy week. But the Lord will give us the wisdom to know how to serve the Lord together as a family.

I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. -Psalm 122:1

The yelps and barks from the side yard startled me, and the dish I'd been washing dropped into the sink. I peered out the window in time to see a Honduran woman on the other side of our chain link side fence stoop down, grab a rock, and hurl it at Roxy, our two year-old Rottweiler. Drying my hands on my apron, I flew out the side door and called out, "Stop throwing rocks! She can't hurt you!" The fact that our guard dog couldn't possibly leap over the seven-foot fence seemed to have escaped the woman, who continued to hurl rocks as fast as she could grab them. Roxy dodged the rocks and continued to bark furiously.

I grabbed Roxy by the collar and tried to no avail to drag her away from the fence. "Lady! Stop throwing rocks! She's not doing anything to you!" Now the rocks started coming in my direction!

Robbie had been collecting fruit from the cashew tree in the back yard. Hearing the commotion, he started walking toward the fence. He was surprised to see his apron-clad wife yelling at a small woman, chasing the dog in circles, and dodging rocks right and left. My attacker had not slowed in the least. As she continued to hurl rocks, the grimy dress she was wearing began to creep down to her waist. Robbie was almost doubled over laughing at the sight of me being pummeled by a half-naked, angry woman. He heard me yell, "Stop throwing rocks! And, good grief, pull your DRESS up!"

He helped me drag Roxy to the other side of the yard, and admonished me, "Chris, she's not all there, babe."

"What do you mean?" I looked a little more closely at my attacker. I felt my face grow hot as reality sank in. I had been yelling at a mentally challenged person. The poor woman had probably been frightened to death by our dog's barks and hadn't realized Roxy couldn't get to her. She obviously didn't understand what was going on at all. I had seen her as the aggressor and instantly made the situation worse by yelling. I ran to her to calm her down and apologize for my behavior.


Unfortunately, this isn't the only time I've been guilty of misjudging a person. Many times I focus on the rocks being hurled at me, failing to look beyond them at the hurt, the fear, the misunderstanding on the other side of the fence. I take things personally, I jump to conclusions, I preach my opinion. How many times have I stopped to ask questions? To try to see the situation from another's point of view? To show compassion?

I've got learn to shut my mouth and look past the rocks.

Much learning does not teach understanding. -Heraclitus

Today's post consists of tips for missionaries in tropical areas to survive the heat. Although many of my readers do not live with such extreme weather, I hope reading about it will help you know better how to pray for missionaries on the field.

I had no idea before visiting Central America for the first time what it was to be hot. I'm not talking about sweating a little at a Fourth of July cookout back in the States. I'm from the South, and we certainly did have some hot summers growing up. But I had never experienced real heat until we moved to Honduras. It is absolutely suffocating; the humidity makes the air so thick, you feel like you are walking sluggishly under water.

Even after five years on the field, I have to admit it: the heat still gets to me. Today was no exception. I went to clean the church and came home all sweaty and disgusting, only to find that we had no power and no water. Again. I wish I could tell you I sang, "Count Your Many Blessings" and sweetly carried on as usual. But I was irritable, my nerves were frayed, and I had absolutely no desire to begin making lunch in that hot kitchen. Today, like many days, my hardest battle took place in my own mind; the enemies were discontentment, moodiness, and a complaining spirit. All sent straight from the tropical sun!

Even though this is a area I've not fully overcome, we have learned some things as a family over the past few years to help us combat the heat.

1. Rest when you find it necessary. Visitors and new arrivals to a tropical climate have an especially difficult time with the heat. During our first six months on the field, Robbie and I found ourselves completely exhausted every afternoon. I have never been one to take naps; I can't usually sleep at night if I sleep during the day. Not to mention, both of us are extremely by-the-book, schedule-oriented people. A naptime in the middle of the day!?! But during those first few months on the field, we learned it was wise to occasionally indulge in a 20-30 minute power nap (after a cold shower); we awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated (and were able to accomplish more in the remaining hours! After awhile, our bodies adjusted and we no longer required this resttime, but it greatly helped us during those first few months of transition.

2. Stay hydrated. It's very important for those who live in a tropical climate to stop frequently to drink water. We also make fruit smoothies and frozen treats for unbearable days. The temptation is to drink sodas, but I always feel much better when I choose water. I'll never forget the baptism service we were holding one Sunday afternoon. We gathered in the small concrete church as the sun beat in the windows. We were all sweating profusely, and the small fans only blew the hot air around in circles. As Robbie stood up to preach, he looked a little woozy. I prayed he would be able to make it through the sermon; the table we had set up in the back was loaded with homemade banana bread and three-liter Pepsis. Just a few more minutes, I told myself. POP! Suddenly, there was a horribly loud explosion from the back of the room! We turned around just in time to see one of the jumbo Pepsis soaring through the air, turning end over end and spewing soda in all directions! The heat had caused it to explode! Only in Honduras! Next time you want to drink a Pepsi on a hot day, just remember what it might do to your insides!

3. Be a smart cook. Our house, like many missionaries' homes, does not have central air conditioning. Even if it were available, we could never afford it. Energy is unbelievably expensive; we pay more for our electric bill than we do for our rent. We have small AC units to cool the bedrooms and Robbie's office (but only while we are using them!). For the living room, dining room, and kitchen, we simply leave the louvered windows open and run a fan. We dry clothes on the line and run our bedroom AC units only at night, thus saving as much energy as possible. When the heat of the day kicks in, the last place I want to be is over a hot stove. I've learned to make some changes to help me get through the most sweltering days (and no, eating out doesn't count!). First, I cook our big meal for lunch instead of dinner. That way, I get the majority of my cooking done in the morning hours. We can have sandwiches or leftovers for supper. Second, I use the crockpot as much as possible. It beats standing over a hot stove any day! Third, when the days are more tolerable, I cook double portions to freeze, saving me from cooking on a hotter day. I have also learned to make more "cold meals," like wraps, chicken or egg salad sandwiches, cold bean dip, etc.

4. Mind over matter! As many little tricks and helps as I have learned, some days there is just no way around it. It's hot! But complaining does nothing but sour everyone's mood. I focus on NOT saying, "It's so hot! Can you believe how hot it is?" every few minutes. I make lame jokes about being upset I left my coat and gloves at home. I try not to think about what I look like; everyone else looks just as sweaty! And they are from here!

5. Pray, pray, pray! My attitude is a constant matter of prayer. I can feel myself slipping...I snap at Claire, glare at Robbie, and roll my eyes when the power goes out for the fourth time in 24 hours. But just a few minutes talking to the Lord, asking Him for strength, does more than a cold shower or a power nap ever will! Heat may seem like a silly little thing, but I would not be one bit surprised to find that it's caused a missionary to leave the field. The devil could definitely use such an extreme environment to discourage me and keep me from serving the Lord. I have to stay on my knees!

Shortly after moving to Honduras, I learned that the locals have a nickname for the area we've chosen to live in: La Caldera del Diablo. The Devil's Cauldron. Yep. That just about sums it up! So as you pray for the Ellis family, please ask the Lord to help us survive the heat! Because let me tell you, the devil is bringing it on!


Claire and I escaped to her treehouse for a picnic lunch today.


This is our living room area. The louvered windows stay open year round and the front door is open most of the day. The ceiling fan (a birthday present from Robbie) has been a huge help.


This is the mini-split air-conditioning unit we use to cool our bedroom at night. I have thermally insulated, lightblocking curtains on the windows to cut energy costs (and to keep the unit from blowing up!).

Be sure to check back next week, when I will post pics for a "virtual tour" of our home! It's quite a bit different from how we lived in the States, but the Lord has given us a very nice place. We'd love to have you stop by!

I thought I needed to make pancakes in a hurry this morning; the Lord knew I needed to let Claire break the eggs and stir the batter.

I thought I needed to have the beds made right away; the Lord knew I needed a little extra quiet time in prayer.

I thought I needed to finish my financial report by nine o’clock; the Lord knew I needed to stop frequently to dress and redress a tiny Cinderella doll.

I thought I needed to finish Sunday’s bulletin; the Lord knew I needed to console a church member who called to say her feelings had been hurt.

I thought I needed to cut out my craft for Sunday school; the Lord knew I needed to drop it when Robbie came in: “Chris, I need your help…”

I thought I needed to just “pop in and out” at the grocery store; the Lord knew an exceptional cashier deserved my praise to her boss.

I thought I needed to make five church visits this afternoon; the Lord knew the first lady would need me to stay the entire time.

I thought I needed to feed my family of three at dinner; the Lord knew unexpected (but hungry!) guests would show up at the gate just as we sat down.

I thought my kitchen should be spotless before I headed to bed; the Lord knew I should sit down and enjoy a basketball game with my husband.

I thought my day should be perfectly planned by a neat checklist; the Lord threw my checklist out the window and guided my steps.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways. –Isaiah 55:9

As I read reminders posted by our friends in the States to turn back their clocks for Daylight Savings, I can't help but laugh and think back...

Our first year on the field, we found out that Honduras did not "spring forward" and "fall back" as we were accustomed. But in 2006, Honduran Congress had passed a law to institute Daylights Savings Time for the very first time. Since the sun comes up here around 5:15, we were very much in favor of the decision; others, however, felt quite differently.

We soon found that many Hondurans simply didn't understand this foreign concept. A woman on the news complained that "the children will have to get up an hour earlier for school every day! They'll be so tired!" Others were upset that they would "now being going to work at 5AM instead of 6AM!" Demonstrations were held to oppose the new law.

We made more visits than usual that Saturday before the time change. If people in the States miss church because of time change, what would happen here? We were afraid our small Bible study would be deserted. We spent almost an hour at one woman's house, who told us she would not be coming the next day because of the time change. "I have to get up at 3AM and change all the clocks! I'll be so tired!"

"No, no," we tried to explain. "Just change them when you go to bed!"

"But the newspaper said you have to change them at 3AM! That's when the time change is!"

After arguing back and forth for quite awhile, we realized we were getting nowhere.

Time Change Sunday did finally happen, but many simply refused to comply. Now we were forced to distinguish "New time or old time?" for every appointment. There were large-scale protests all over the country. It was all very confusing. We were scheduled to host a Medical Brigade the next month, and the school administrator lamented, "Well, this changes everything! Now the clinic will be from 7-3 instead of 8-4!" We tried once again in vain to explain that the time did not actually change every day, but our explanations fell on deaf ears.

Thankfully, Congress repealed the law to institute Daylight Savings, and we are back to waking up with the birds at 5:15. Trust me, I'm not complaining!

One of my favorite things about my life is that there is no “normal” on the mission field. We stay incredibly busy, but we are not usually doing the same monotonous task all day long. Before we started the church here, I never knew all that was involved in making a ministry function. I took for granted all the “behind-the-scenes” work that made our home church run smoothly. We members of Team Honduras quickly learned that we could not opt out of tasks because it was not in our job description. Regardless of what degree we earned in college, we had to be willing to learn new skills, many times out of our comfort zones.



Since becoming a missionary, I’ve had to learn how to keep books and careful records of finances (and I am not a math person). I teach a class of 30 two to five year-olds, even though I got my degree in secondary education. I learned how to pour cement and tie rebar at the site of our new church building. I recently got to scrub into surgery during a medical brigade. I communicate with our supporters and help maintain our website. I’ve learned to organize and prepare a meal for over 100 people. At church, I can scrub a toilet and wring a mop with the best of them. I’ve had to brush up on my piano skills to play in church, something I would never do in the States. But on the mission field, you don’t say you’re not qualified. You just roll up your sleeves and get in there! In the early years of a ministry, if you don’t do it, it won’t get done.


Robbie now knows quite a bit about architecture and construction from our first building project; he’s learned about photography and videography to improve our promotional material. Matt learned how to play the guitar and lead music in church, because there was no one else able to do so. He also taught himself how to produce videos so that we can send our supporters a Year-in-Review DVD each year. We’ve all had to stretch ourselves here on the mission field, because there’s so much to be done.


I once read a book for wives that included a “Standard Dumb Cluck Test.” I was immediately convicted about my hesitancy to learn new things. The author admonished women for not being “crowned with knowledge.” She warned that all too often we don’t learn to do things that don’t fall under the job description we’ve envisioned for ourselves. She asked questions like, “Have you ever checked the oil in your car?” and “Can you use a hammer, saw, tape measure, and screwdriver?” I was challenged to be my husband’s helpmeet in ways I had never considered, because, as she said, “Any good woman should be able to fix a screen door.”




I definitely struggle with flexibility. I like to know what I’m supposed to do ahead of time, make a list, and get to it. And heaven help the person that tries to add to my list! Being on the mission field has taught me not to say, “That’s not my area,” or “I’m not really comfortable doing that.”




Let’s forget our job descriptions and comfort zones. The Lord doesn’t accept such lame excuses! To opt out of opportunities such as these is to miss a great blessing. Let's allow the Lord to stretch us and use us in new ways. He always makes it worthwhile.




…the prudent are crowned with knowledge. –Proverbs 14:18

I was sitting on the front row on the porch of our church house last Wednesday night, enjoying my husband’s sermon from the Life of David series he has been preparing over the past few months. I took notes and absentmindedly swatted at the bugs with the other 100 or so people on the porch. Soft singing came from the two children’s classes inside. Suddenly, the worshipful spirit of the service was interrupted by a loud voice. “Shut up! Shut up!” the voice insisted. I looked up, startled, but Robbie continued unfazed. “Shut up! Shut up!” the voice grew louder. I was starting to get very annoyed. Obviously a child from the neighboring house was enjoying a good prank. Where were his parents? “Shut UP!” The voice grew louder. People were starting to exchange sideways glances, and the teen section was snickering now. I couldn’t believe the ushers weren’t moving to take care of the little brat! I finally caught Pastor Matt’s eye, who was sitting to the side of the pulpit; I mouthed, “Should I go take care of that?” and motioned to the back fence where the voice originated. He grinned and mouthed back, “It’s a BIRD.” Sure enough, the neighbors had left their parrot out on the porch that evening, and he didn’t appear to be enjoying service as much as the rest of us.

I have always struggled with wanting life to be perfectly scheduled, tasks lined up in neat little rows, each with its checkmark to the left. I turn my canned goods so that the labels face the same way; my clothes are divided by type, then subdivided by color. I like order, neatness, predictability. Everything needs to be just right. My husband marvels that I ended up a missionary to a third-world country; I definitely don’t fit the profile.

In college, my goal was to have a perfect 4.0 GPA. I spent long hours studying and managed to scrape by with all A’s each semester, with a few close calls in some of my tougher classes. I stayed up late and got up early, took copious notes, and labored over endless projects. And it was paying off…I had a perfect 4.0. I wanted to earn an award for academic excellence at graduation; to stand on the stage with the 5 or 6 graduates each year that managed to earn all A’s. I just knew I could do it…

Enter “Strings 101.” My junior year, I decided to take a “fun class” for one of my electives; I wanted to learn to play the violin. I was thrilled at the possibility of learning a new instrument and eagerly anticipated the class each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It would be a break from Shakespeare, Advanced Grammar and Composition, and Introduction to Spanish Literature. The only grades given in the class were for “playing exams.” We would play a piece for the instructor four separate times during the semester and she would grade our performance.

Well, the end of the semester arrived, grades were distributed, and I discovered to my horror that I had earned my first and only B in Strings 101. I talked with the instructor to be sure there was no mistake—she assured me that she had checked my average several times to be sure, because I had fallen short of the coveted A by 1/10 of a point. I could not believe it. I had aced World Drama, Latin American Literature, and Creative Writing only to earn a B for playing “Hot Cross Buns.” I was sick.

Looking back, I know the Lord was teaching me a hard lesson about humility and the futile pursuit of perfection. He knew what was coming down the road: a perfectionist living in a world of constant power outages, dirt roads, parasites, cow stomach soup, and muddy tap water. Something had to give.

I thank the Lord that He gave me peace about my grade, and I learned to enjoy my college experience for what it was. I focused on the joy of learning instead of my GPA, and was much happier for it.

Just a few months ago (almost 8 years after my infamous violin class), I got an unexpected letter in the mail.

You may remember me, perhaps by my maiden name _______. You were in my strings class. You were taking the violin, I remember. You came to meet with me after the semester to ask about your grade. Christine, you don’t realize how many times since then I have regretted not bumping up your grade...I spoke with one of the other teachers after our meeting and she shared that in a class like that, those taking it for personal enjoyment and benefit don’t need to be graded as hard as those who are taking it for their music major or minor….I know there is nothing I can do about it at this point. But I was so thankful to get your address so I could write you to explain and apologize and seek your forgiveness….

There was nothing to forgive…the Lord had used that instructor to teach me a valuable lesson about life. No, I don’t fit the “missionary profile.” I don’t have a small army of kids, I don’t always feel ready for adventure, and I still cringe a little if I have to bathe from a bucket or find a tarantula in my living room. But thank goodness the Lord doesn’t “profile.” He simply uses those of us who step up and volunteer.

Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it. --I Thessalonians 5:24