The $20 Christmas Wrap

The language barrier is a very real battle to be fought when a person is in another country. Here is one example of a battle that I lost.

Waiting for some medicine at a pharmacy in a large Wal-Mart-type store here in the Dominican Republic I passed the time of day with the school nurse who had come to help me. It was near Christmas so the store was brimming with customers and chaos. She was telling me why we can’t find rolls of wrapping paper here in the DR like we can in the States.

At home we do things on our own … clean our own house, polish our own shoes, wrap our own gifts … but here it is common to have other people do these chores for us … usually for a tip. So the stores have the custom of offering free Christmas wrapping for gifts purchased at the same store. Right next to the pharmacy we could see the long counter where a half dozen young ladies were busy wrapping gifts for people who were standing in lines three or four deep.


So it was only logical for me to ask the people at the towel store if they would wrap nine individual Christmas gifts when I went to pick them up later. Since our daughter was getting married a few days after Christmas, a number of our relatives were spending Christmas with us and we had purchased towels embroidered with their name and a personalized design for gifts.


The lady who had originally taken our order a couple of weeks ago speaks a little English and she was there, so emboldened by this new information I asked if this store offered free wrapping. She said that they did wrap gifts but it would cost a little bit extra since they used a special box instead of wrapping paper. So I asked how much extra.

When she answered, “Seventeen” I quickly multiplied that in my head by nine and figured I could afford an extra 4 or 5 dollars if it meant I didn’t have to do all that wrapping at home … especially since I couldn’t find any wrapping paper anyway.

When I came back 20 minutes later a different lady was at the cash register. She said something in Spanish so I handed her a 500-peso bill expecting 350 pesos in change. She gave me one of those funny looks that I couldn’t interpret and said something else in Spanish. A chunky man with shiny black hair next to me said, “She say she want 630 peso.” When I told him there must be some mistake he shrugged and looked away.

At this point the young woman who knows a little bit of English who helped me before came over to see what the fuss was about. After talking to the cashier lady she turned to me and repeated, “You need more money.” So I told her, “Listen, figure this out for yourself … nine packages times seventeen pesos each is …..”

Interrupting she said, “Seventeen? No, I said Seventy!” Even when she said the two numbers with labored emphasis I could barely tell the difference. As my head quickly tallied the problem I began to feel sick. This small language problem increased my little wrapping project from four dollars to almost twenty dollars, and I knew I was trapped. To their credit, when they discovered the problem they compromised by accepting only the 500 pesos that I had. Their gesture cut my loss by about four dollars, but it still was another hard lesson in the language barrier wars.

The Thing Was Done Suddenly

In the last month we’ve felt like a trailer in a tornado. For anyone who has gone through the experience of getting one's daughter married a few days after Christmas, you will probably empathize. I must admit, however, that doing this in a different country such as the Dominican Republic makes it a whole new ball game.

Somewhere during the whirlwind Carol and I read the account of Hezekiah in II Chronicles 29. His father had turned the heart of Judah to the ways of the kings of Israel. Molten images had been set up for Baalim in every corner of Jerusalem, and the house of the LORD had been neglected.

When Hezekiah began to reign he wanted to do what was right in the sight of God. The first thing he did was to clean out the house of the LORD and to establish the role of the Levites. When it was all cleaned up Hezekiah rose early and told the rulers of the city to gather at the house of the LORD. He told them that he wanted burnt offerings and sin offerings to be made for all Israel … now! So they scrambled to get things done.

In all the rush and confusion there were not enough priests to handle all the burnt offerings. But by the end of the time this comment was made, “So the service of the house of the LORD was set in order.” In other words, it got done. It may not have been done perfectly, and things were a bit hectic, but it got done.

When Carol and I talked about this portion of Scripture together we couldn’t help but apply it to what was happening with our daughter’s wedding. In fact, when we read the conclusion of the whole story we laughed out loud:

And Hezekiah rejoiced, and all the people, that God had prepared
the people: for the thing was done suddenly. II Chron 29:36

Notice that God had prepared the heart of the people and that there was rejoicing. I feel that this is what happened to us by the end of the wedding. So let me catch you up on what happened.

When our daughter was first put into prison we began to pray about ways to encourage her. Since I was at the age and experience where I could retire, and it was probable that she could be released after 3 ½ years of her sentence, we decided to see if it were possible to be in the DR when she was released. Our desire was to give her a half-way house, so to speak, so she could have a stable place away from her old environment so she could put her life back together. At the same time we could spend some time with our daughter and salvage some of the relationship we’d lost over the years.

When Carol found the math position at Santiago Christian School on line and I was eventually hired we felt that this was allowed by God to accomplish this purpose. One needs to bear in mind that this plan took over three years to concoct and hatch. It required interviews, retirement, studying calculus for a year, moving to a foreign country, and a myriad other life changing activities designed for the purpose of being in the right place at the right time to help our daughter. We knew that God did not need us to accomplish His work in her life. We were simply asking God to allow us to be part of it.

Cherish met Carlos in prison while he was ministering at the prison with his sister a year ago last Thanksgiving. At that time Cherish would still be in prison another six months and we had already been in the country four months. So this whirlwind romance came out of left field for both Cherish and us, and it is not what either of us anticipated. So let’s see how this pencils out on paper … by the time we get back to Moscow, assuming we stay here for the third year as we’ve promised, we will have spent four years of our life in trade to get six months with our daughter. Yep! It was worth it!

Another wrinkle in the fabric of our man-made plans was the Presidential pardon. None of us ever thought that our daughter would be pardoned by the president of this country. And yet through a series of amazing circumstances this is exactly what happened. So now, because of this one event, she is allowed (actually “required”) to leave the country, and her new husband is able to take a job in Peru that was offered to him.

This whole thing is not surprising. I’ve been a Christian long enough to know that my plans will almost never work out, and that what happens in their place is always better. “God’s plan is better than ours.” I need to say that over several times because this is basically the definition of a life of faith, right?

A man’s heart deviseth his way:
But the LORD directeth his steps. Prov 16:9

In one sense we are fortunate that the wedding actually happened. I suppose part of the reason for this feeling of disorganization and chaos is simply because we are in the DR and our daughter has adapted to the Latin life style. It is something I’m still not comfortable with, to say the least, but it has something to do with spontaneity and getting things done by personal contacts and face-to-face communication.

To start with, whether or not there would be a wedding was up in the air several times. When they were first engaged they enthusiastically wrote a number of people indicating that they would be married in December. As time went on, her fiancé was not finding a job and they had no money. Since things didn’t seem to be working out, they postponed the wedding. Unfortunately, they didn’t inform everyone.

My son in Japan wrote to say that he had bought a plane ticket and was coming to the wedding in December.

This helped them to decide to get married on the same day they had announced previously but re-arranged the plans so that it would fit a minimum budget. In that sense I believe God blessed them by supplying their needs. For example, a family from my school allowed them to use the beautiful surroundings of their country home for the wedding, and a photographer volunteered her professional services, both of these as a gift. There were numerous other smaller “gifts” which testified to God’s literal provision for their needs.

Two weeks before the wedding another problem came up which they felt was serious enough for them to cancel the wedding until it was resolved. The shower that was planned was postponed and everything sort of came to a halt. We were afraid to tell our relatives who had already purchased plane tickets and were ready to come. So we waited for a week to see what would happen.

A week later Cherish learned of her Presidential pardon and her ability to leave the country, so the wedding was back on again. So this whole scenario was giving their wedding a sort of on-again-off-again feel to it. I met several people who asked in a surprised tone, “You mean the wedding is on again?” So this helps to explain a little why “the thing was done suddenly”.

The wedding day itself was an exercise in flexibility. Our daughter had to spend the day before the wedding in the Capitol city, which is two hours away, so she could pick up her official “freedom” documents. They could care less that she was getting married the next day. She didn’t get home until the wee hours of the morning on the big day.

After spending a few early morning hours preparing the wedding site with friends, she, along with my wife and mother, went to get their hair done and fancy makeup put on. They couldn’t find the salon for a while, so it added to other last minute problems to put the wedding two hours later than when it was scheduled.

This is a funny thing. All the North Americans arrived on time and were checking their watches at five after. The Dominicans showed up late and enjoyed casual conversation until it started. I asked several Dominicans what was normal at a wedding in their country. All of them agreed … they never start on time, and they come to see the bride, not necessarily to show up for the wedding on time. So, get this … Cherish was having a normal wedding in this country!

I’m not sure I’ve ever been part of a wedding without a rehearsal … until this one. I guess it is part of the culture to just wing it. Oh, it worked out alright, I suppose, but it kept me guessing during the whole service what was coming next. For example, when I walked my daughter up to the front with her on my arm I stopped and waited for the pastor to say, “Who gives this woman to marry this man?”

The anxious groom kept trying to come toward me to grab her and I kept motioning him back. Just a bit awkward! It probably looked like I was changing my mind about giving my daughter away to this stranger from Peru. I finally realized that the pastor wasn’t going to say anything so I finally gave in and released her.


The entire wedding was performed in Spanish. So I kept turning to the teenage son of the groom’s sister who was sitting behind me to ask, “Are they married yet?” He finally said, “They aren’t married until the kiss!” And kiss they did, and at that moment I knew my daughter was gone. She will be living in his home country Peru and we will have to add another column to our traveling budget if we want to see her. Sniff!


As a surprise our daughter wrote and sang a love song for her new husband. This was a special treat for us as well since we had not heard her sing in public for several years.

She also borrowed an idea from her mom - the unity candle. She purchased two small candles and had one large candle made to be lit from the two smaller ones to symbolize two lives becoming one.

When the time came for that part of the ceremony right after her song, three or four men surrounded the candles while one of them held a huge round photographer’s flash reflector. The weather up to this time was beautiful and sunny all day even though it had rained the night before. As the afternoon wore on the wind was picking up and we could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. We were on a high hill overlooking the city and could see the storm approaching.

The people surrounding the candles was an effort to block the wind, but no one else could see what was happening. Fortunately their efforts were unsuccessful so with a flare of Dominican spontaneity they moved everything under the shelter that was behind us. Although it was still windy in the open shelter it provided enough protection to keep the candles lit.

This was the time where the bride and groom individually expressed their gratitude to different people and praised God for the events in their lives. Even though I knew it, this was a good reminder to me that God loves and provides for us even though we don’t make perfect decisions, and the wedding was beautiful even in spite of the bumps of disorganization.

The unity candle must have been an unfamiliar custom to many that attended the wedding. When the large one was finally lit during the small wind storm they were battling, the bride and groom each blew out the individual candles as they were supposed to. Then the groom’s youngest nephew who was standing nearby leaned over and gave a big blow at the big candle as if to help the bride and groom who had obviously forgotten to blow it out. I could hear all the North Americans including myself audibly suck in their breath as if to say, “Oh, no!” He was grabbed by a couple of bystanders and the flame flickered to life again. Isn’t this a great picture of what happens in a marriage through the years as the winds of life try to blow out the flame of marriage?

For the next two hours people ate a simple catered lunch and engaged in reception-type conversation while the photographer took the family pictures.








The wedding ended gradually and unceremoniously like a wind-up clock at the end of the day. One by one the people left until only a handful of us stayed to throw bird seed at the pickup as it rolled out of sight with an exhausted bride crumpled in the front seat.

We now have a daughter married to a Peruvian and a son married to a girl from Japan. Does anyone know of a cute AMERICAN girl we can introduce to my remaining single son? Maybe we can have another wedding and do it suddenly also, because now I know that God will prepare our hearts and we can rejoice.

A Trip to the Beach

One would think that if a person lived just a few miles from some of the most beautiful tropical beaches in the world that he would visit often. The truth of the matter is, up to a month and a half ago we had only been to the beach twice even though we have lived here over a year. The first time was a school sponsored trip to introduce us to what was available. Since it was during the first week of school a year ago the whole experience was a blur and I was more worried about how I was going to survive school which was opening in a few days. The second trip was in June when my mother came to visit and we wanted to show her the beaches. I suppose this phenomenon is not new. It is like living next door to Disney World and not taking the time to visit.

Last year I had a very short chain. For most evenings and weekends I couldn’t leave my make-shift office at home because I had to prepare lessons for six different preparations to teach … three of which I had never taught before. This year I not only have the lesson plans from last year but I have only one subject I have never taught. I am in educational heaven! So when a teaching colleague and his wife asked us to go to the beach with them I felt that it would be a good thing to do. However, I must admit that at first if felt sort of funny planning to have fun on a weekend.

Our daughter had other plans so we decided to go to the beach with our friends by ourselves. None of us are fluent in Spanish but we decided to go anyway. One has to realize that although we live a mere 60 miles from the beach it takes over two hours to negotiate the best road there on a public bus. Getting there and back is three fourths of the experience. I suppose it is similar to what I remember of our days of family camping.

The problems of four foreigners getting to a “nearby” beach are far more complex that a simple bus ride. For example, since none of us are fluent in Spanish it took almost a half hour to get the taxi to pick us both up and deliver us to the Metro bus station. Then, for reasons we still don’t understand, their posted departure time of 9:15 was not honored and the next bus was not leaving until noon. So we quickly walked down the block to the rival bus company Caribe Tours where we found that all the tickets were sold out. Many people were crowded into the small terminal demanding a ticket, so the proprietors were trying to arrange for an extra bus to come.

We waited for a good hour talking with our friends in the small crowded air conditioned terminal while the overhead TV was showing a special documentary about the Air Force Thunderbirds. Because of the surrounding noise level I was leaning toward my friend so I could hear him. We were sitting in a row with our two wives between us. This meant that I was sitting on only half of my seat. Soon I was aware that another man had sat down next to me on the other half of the seat. I’m not sure that would have happened in the US.

The bus eventually came. As we took a seat, a young man who looked as foreign as we did sat next to me across the aisle on the bus as we traveled to the beach. He was quite vocal and eager to speak to us in English, so we learned quite a bit about him before the trip was finished. I had noticed him earlier at the bus terminal. He was with a dignified Caucasian woman who spoke Spanish as well as English. She had helped me understand what was happening when I tried to get my tickets. He was wearing shorts and had a T-shirt with a large picture of a mug of beer with the caption “Better than Mistletoe”, so I had quickly sized him up as one of those single Americans who come here for a few weeks of drinking and immorality. As we got to know Scott I was reminded again of how we can’t judge a book by its cover.

In reality this young man was from England (complete with the most exquisite English accent) and he was a missionary with an organization called YWAM (Youth with a Mission). This organization has charismatic leanings so he had his share of curious beliefs and doctrines. However, he appeared to have a genuine love for our Lord having been saved out of a world of selling drugs.

At Puerto Plata the bus stopped for a little more than a half hour while we waited for another connection to finish the trip to Sosua. My colleague friend wanted to confront Scott about how his testimony didn’t seem to match his T-shirt, but Scott disappeared after he got off the bus. We, on the other hand, waited in the crowded outdoor bus terminal while beggars took their turns giving an appeal. One skinny man who spoke and acted like a woman lifted his dirty T-shirt to the crowd to reveal some kind of device sticking out of his abdomen. After a short presentation he wandered through the crowd to collect money.

A toothless wrinkled women wearing a baggy dress that had not been washed in weeks had a different approach. She singled out a person and simply stood in front of them and wiggled her fingers near her mouth in an unmistakable message, “Give me some food.”

The bus finally arrived and we were dropped off on the side of the road in Sosua. Fortunately our friends had been here before so they knew how to get to the beach on foot. It took the next hour to find the beach, locate a changing room, decide where to park our bodies for the afternoon, and rent some beach loungers from a man named Lucio.

For the next two hours we lounged in the shade, went swimming in the crystalline turquoise waters, and --- warded off the beach hawkers. Every ten minutes our American bubble of “space” was invaded by sellers of homemade candy, fruit which they cut up with a large knife right in front of you, hair braiders, and jewelry which is always “free to look”. We learned very quickly how to wag our fore finger back and forth in a cultural symbol of “No, we don’t want any!” One group of men wanted to sing for us. My friend hired them to sing a love song for his wife’s birthday which happened to be on that very day. With eyes closed and mouths wide in musical passion it was obvious that they were missing more teeth than they were talent. They were actually quite good and it was a memorable experience.

During the entire afternoon two or three men shared the beach right next to us. They were brawny with tattoos all over their body like sailors on leave. The women with them were undisputedly women of the street whom they had hired for temporary companionship. The men spoke in English quite loudly all day using the “F” word profusely as if trying to out-do each other. The public displays of affection with the harlots were embarrassing to look at. One of the men was from Michigan and wore a prominent tattoo of the Christian fish symbol on his upper right arm.

When it was time to leave I went to the local pay-for-use bathroom to shower and change. My Christian friend approached the man from Michigan to ask him if he knew what the symbol meant that he displayed on his arm. Without a blink of an eye he replied, “Yeah, Jesus Christ God’s Son Savior”. My friend then told him that his behavior indicated that he didn’t really know who Jesus was. The man glared at him and said, “Take the log out of your own eye, buddy.”

This is an amazing story for two reasons. One, that my friend didn’t get his clock cleaned by this guy whose biceps were bigger than my thigh. And two, that a man from America who had obviously had some kind of Christian background could consider himself a Christian and yet engage in worldly behavior condemned by the Scriptures. To me this is an example of the kind of thinking occurring in many churches today justified under the label “freedom in Christ.”

When I came out of the bathroom I gave the woman who was sitting there a ten-peso coin for a “propina” (a tip). She sits there all day collecting money for the use of the bathroom and selling toilet paper. With my gesture of kindness I said, “En el nombre de Jesucristo”. I wasn’t brave enough to take on a brawny tattooed professing Christian but I wanted to identify with Christ in a small way.

Just before it was time to leave I watched three young bucks strut up the beach with an obvious attempt to show off for the girls. They looked to be late high school, muscular, cocky. Suddenly without warning, one of the Dominican young men, the one with his hair dyed blonde, took three fast steps forward, jumped into the air turning a complete 360 degrees, and landed on his feet in a perfect gymnastic move worthy of the Olympics. Unfortunately my wife and the others weren’t there to see it.

We walked to the Metro bus in time to buy our tickets and have an ice cream cone before its departure at 5:50. Before boarding the bus I asked the terminal attendant for the bathroom. I was directed to a urinal in the side of a building located in a shallow cement stall … no door … simply a urinal that looked like a low water fountain. Although I had to use it, the situation was a bit too public for me to be comfortable … although the people passing by didn’t seem to notice or care.

The sun retires every night between 6:30 and 7:30 all year long, so it was dark by the time we reached our home town of Santiago around 8:00 and took a taxi home. The trip to the beach was over. Out of the eleven hours we were gone, eight was spent getting there and back and only three hours were spent on the beach itself … just another trip to a Dominican beach.

Pagan Christianity

In my various trips through the Old Testament prophets in the last few years, I’ve discovered something which I call “Pagan Christianity”. The heart of this phenomenon is succinctly summarized in this phrase from Jeremiah 32:33.

And they have turned unto me the back, and not the face.

This gives an interesting mental picture of how the nation of Israel was approaching God, and the reason God was bringing judgment upon them.

For a long time I used to think that Israel simply turned their back on God. In my mind I saw Israel one day saying, “I’m tired of serving God. I’m going to try the religion of my pagan neighbor for a change.” So presumably they left the temple and built a new idol somewhere else.

Now, I’m not sure that this is an accurate picture of what actually happened. The next verse adds more information.

But they set their abominations in the house, which is called by
my name, to defile it. Jer 32:34

In other words, instead of throwing out what they had, they simply added to it little by little … changing it just enough to suit their purpose … and still be able to call it godly and righteous. They turned their backs on God, but not their face. This makes more sense when I compare it to my own fleshly tendencies.

In my youth, along with Peter of old, I frequently said to myself, “If I should die with thee, I will not deny thee in any wise.” Knowing what Christ had done for me and the fervor I felt in those early years, I could not picture myself ever turning away from God.

As I’ve grown older I’ve learned more about myself and the weakness of my flesh. Evil presents itself to me more commonly as “the little foxes that spoil the vines” (Song of Solomon 2”15) rather than “a lion in the streets” (Prov 26:13). The path of apostasy is strewn with small compromises carefully justified by a deceived heart.

There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end
thereof are the ways of death. Prov 16:25

Therefore the nation of Israel had come to a place where they were worshipping idols (have turned unto me the back) but were saying, and probably even believing, that they were worshipping God (but still thinking they were facing him.) Jeremiah explains the mechanism of this sad process of pagan Christianity a few chapters earlier.

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked
who can know it? Jer 17:9

Jeremiah confirmed this when he admitted:

O LORD, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not
in man that walketh to direct his steps. Jer 10:23

Now this is a terrifying concept if you stop to think about it. In Jeremiah we are told that prophets were prophesying lies and false visions and divination (14:4), they were near with their mouths but far away in their reins (affections, emotions, feelings,) (12:2), and they thought they were worshipping God when in fact they were walking in the imagination of their evil hearts (11:8-10). How did they get to that point? And, more pertinently, how do I know that I am truly seeking God, or if I’m merely following fleshly desires cloaked under a mantle of righteous sounding reasons?


The danger is real … I know. In my own experience I’ve been caught red-handed in this trap of hypocrisy many times … especially in my marriage. I will say that I am serving my wife, but when certain layers are stripped away I realize I am actually serving myself. Maybe some can identify with this. So how do I know if my heart is deceived?

It is interesting to note the verses that follow this mechanism that Jeremiah laid out. After he mentioned that the heart was so deceitful that no one could know it, he says:

I, the LORD, search the heart, I try the reins. Jer 17:10

And after Jeremiah reminds himself that the way of man is not in himself, that he doesn’t even know how to make the right decisions, he states:

O LORD, correct me … Jer 10:24

The answer to my fear of hypocrisy, and the antidote to apostasy, is … the Word of God! The answer is not subjectively analyzed. The Lord reveals it objectively in His word.

The attitude of Israel toward God’s word is traced through Jeremiah:

They have not hearkened unto my words, nor to my law, but
rejected it. Jer 6:19

The word of the LORD is unto them a reproach; they have no
delight in it. Jer 6:10

Finally a day came when they were confronted with God’s words through Jeremiah, and their scoffing remark was “Where is the word of the LORD?” (Jer 17:15) Without knowing it a person can be practicing pagan Christianity if he does not delight himself in the Word of the Lord.

My school teaching job is starting next week, and in my typical pattern I am having nightmares of unruly classes. I’m also thinking through daily schedules and life priorities. This type of introspection seems to accompany the beginning of every school year for me.




I suppose this is why the book of Jeremiah hit me so hard this year. It made me ask the big questions. What am I doing in the DR? Am I really serving the Lord, or have I made it sound like I am, both to myself and to others? Am I deceived or am I living a life of faith? Am I a pagan Christian or a growing Christian?

To be honest, I’m not sure I can answer those questions. And when I try, my thinking gets all gummed up inside, if you know what I mean. But if there’s nothing else I’ve learned in Jeremiah, it’s this …. if I honestly delight in the written Scriptures, God is faithful to convict me of sin and reveal the truth. He will search my heart, and try me, and correct me… if I am in the Word.

So, rather than second guess my motives, I’ve decided to approach this year in the same way that Jeremiah approached his “job” expressed within the pages of his book.

1. Decide to trust and hope in the Lord with everything I do instead of
in the flesh.

Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm,
and whose heart departeth from the LORD. Jer 17:5

Blessed is the man that trusteth in the LORD, and whose hope the
LORD is. Jer 17:7

2. Understand that I cannot trust my own heart since it is deceitful, so
look to God to direct my steps and correct me.

O LORD, correct me, but with judgment; not in thine anger, lest
thou bring me to nothing. Jer 10:24

3. Daily set aside time that allows me to be in the Word on a consistent
and personal basis.

Thy words were found and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me
the joy and rejoicing of mine heart: for I am called by thy name,
O LORD God of hosts. Jer 15:16

In his second letter to Timothy, Paul warns that as we move closer to the end times the church will not endure sound doctrine and will eventually have a form of godliness but deny its power. I honestly believe that we are seeing today what Jeremiah was addressing in his day … apostasy in the church and in the lives of individual professing Christians as they refuse to separate from the world and tremble at the word of God.

For who hath stood in the counsel of the LORD, and hath perceived
and heard his word? Who hath marked his word, and heard it? Jer 23:18



I Am Resolved

I am resolved no longer to linger, Charmed by the world’s delight;
Things that are higher, things that are nobler … These have allured my sight.
I am resolved to go to the Savior, Leaving my sin and strife;
He is the true one, he is the just one … He hath the words of life.
I am resolved to follow the Savior, Faithful and true each day;
Heed what He sayeth, do what He willeth … He is the living way.
I am resolved to enter the kingdom, Leaving the paths of sin;
Friends may oppose me, foes may beset me, Still will I enter in.
I am resolved, and who will go with me? Come, friends, without delay;
Taught by the Bible, led by the Spirit, We’ll walk the heav’nly way.
I will hasten to Him, Hasten so glad and free;
Jesus, greatest, highest, I will come to Thee.

by Palmer Hartsough

In The Place Which He Should Choose

An interesting phrase punctuates the end of chapter 9 in the book of Joshua in the Bible … “in the place which He (God) should choose.” Before this phrase was penned, Joshua had led the people across the Jordan on dry ground. In this miraculous event God demonstrated that His spirit was upon this new leader as He had been with Moses. Then, in the first battle in the Promised Land, Jericho falls with a blast from the trumpets and a shout from the people. A few days later, after a reminder of total obedience to the God of Israel, the neighboring city of Ai is destroyed in a mighty victory.

Then Joshua builds an altar unto the Lord God of Israel in Mount Ebal. He made the altar according to the exact specifications spelled out in the written law of God. Then he wrote a copy of the law of Moses on the altar and afterward assembled all Israel together to read every single word of the law to everyone ... including the women and children and strangers that were among them. (Josh 8:30-35)

Then we come to the chapter where we find this mysterious phrase ... "In the place which He should choose". (Josh 9:27) The inhabitants of the land hear of what is happening and begin to create military alliances to fight against Israel. At least five kings mobilize forces to march against Israel. In the meantime however, one of the cities hatch a different plan.

Gibeon was a prominent city, as powerful as one of the country’s royal cities, and "all the men thereof were mighty." (Josh 10:2) They had a better chance of resisting Israel than Ai did. But they had heard about God’s command to Moses to destroy all the inhabitants of the land and they believed that the Lord God was powerful enough to do it. So they proposed a plan of deception.

Pretending to come from a far distance to seek and worship the God of Israel they asked for asylum and to be admitted as fellow worshippers. Evidently this concept was not new to the leaders of Israel because there was already a contingency of “strangers” who traveled with Israel and worshipped with them. So Joshua and the princes of Israel made a league of peace and protection with them. Then the Scriptures succinctly state: “and the men … asked not counsel at the mouth of the Lord.” (Josh 9:14)

Realizing their mistake three days later, Joshua and the leaders of Israel were properly embarrassed before the congregation. To avoid the wrath of God for breaking a treaty, they allowed the Gibeonites to live, but they relegated all of them to the position of forced labor. From that day onward, the Gibeonites cut wood and drew water for the congregation and for the altar of the Lord … "in the place which He should choose."

A careful reader of Scripture has to pause for a minute to ask why this little phrase was added to this sad story. The phrase, of course, was not new to the writer of this book (probably Joshua) or to the people of Israel. When Moses repeated the law to these people in the book of Deuteronomy just a few months before, he used this phrase six times in chapter 16 alone! It is as if Joshua finally understood what Moses had been trying to say... "Remember, Joshua, it is not about what seems right and logical to you at the time. Life is always about seeking God's counsel in the Word and finding what He should choose."

One morning during my Bible reading I read this verse:

“Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name:
the righteous shall compass me about;
for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.” Psalm 142:7

In the margin I had scrawled in pencil “A verse for my daughter 4-28-08”.

And in the next chapter this verse was underlined:

“Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust:
Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.” Psalm 143:8

In the margin I had penciled these words: “Santiago Target decisions 5-3-08”.

I was reading Scripture that God used in my life a year ago to wrestle through some big decisions and to comfort me in some heavy concerns that I had at the time. It felt like a grandmother must feel as she runs her fingers over an old photo.

A year has passed and God has been faithful. A year of teaching in a Christian school hasn’t killed me. Our apartment is set up and livable. Our daughter is out of prison and has been living with us for almost a month now. The righteous have compassed us about with many emails of joy and encouragement. If I may, we have crossed the Jordan and we are now ready to dwell in the Promised Land.

Based on this story of Joshua I can assume that once God begins putting the pieces of a puzzle together that we have been working on for a long time, it is easy to make decisions without taking the time to consult God. I need to remember that our lives ahead here in the Dominican Republic should still be lived “in the place which He should choose.”

I don’t know why Joshua forgot that lesson, but I figure he was maybe under a little pressure knowing that five kings were marching against him very soon. In my case I know that when the school year will start in the middle of August (kind of similar to five kings marching toward me in battle), I will have the tendency to make decisions without taking the time to seek God’s face. My sincere desire for our little temporary family is that, for as long as the Lord has us together, we will dwell in our Canaan “in the place which He should choose.”

The Condo on the Beach

A generous friend of ours knew that he was giving up his lease on a condo at the beach at the end of June and wasn’t going to be around to use it. So he offered its use to some of his friends. So thanks to his kindness and the grace of God my wife and I had the privilege of spending a few days at a condo at the beach with my mother and our daughter. This was looked forward to with great eagerness since we had not been to the beach since last August.



There are two major bus lines here in this country. The more modern, sleek, expensive line is the Metro which we have always used for our jaunts to Santo Domingo when we visited our daughter. The Caribe bus line is a bit shabbier and less expensive. So we have affectionately dubbed it the poor man’s bus. This is the bus we chose to ride for our two hour trip to the beach since the terminal was closest to our destination.

The green and yellow Greyhound-style bus stopped when we reached Sosua, a popular North Shore tourist town, and we were informed that this was the place to get off. As the bus sped off leaving us in a cloud of blue smoke we realized that we were nowhere … no terminal, no stores, just somewhere in a little town on the side of a road with two large suitcases and one Grandma who was going to be overcome with heat exhaustion any moment.



Cherish grabbed the first taxi she saw in order to get us off the road … an old car with seats that looked like they came from a hillbilly’s shack. Carol was a bit concerned because the trunk wouldn’t close and figured that the luggage would bounce out on the pot-holed roads. But we made it safely a few blocks to a local air conditioned grocery store. While the women did some shopping so we would have food at the condo for the next few days, I stayed out in the small oven that had a sign on it that said “taxi” in order to protect the luggage. The taxi cab driver kept wiping the back of his neck with a dirty white towel while trying to make conversation with phrases such as “sol caliente” or “mucho calor”.

Although the car looked like the winner of a demolition derby, the driver was a nice man and agreed to take us to the condo, which was probably three miles outside of town, for 300 pesos (about $9.00). Beggars aren’t choosers so we took him up on it. The next time we needed a taxi we found a large SUV with air conditioning for the same amount of money which we used for the rest of the time.

The view from the condo balcony was like something from a picture postcard. However, two details were left out in the condo description which made a huge difference to us. One was that it was on the third floor in a building with no elevator. The second was that only one of the three ceiling fans worked, and that fan only on low. None of the two air conditioners were functional. But some of the times a breeze would come off the ocean which made it tolerable.

We couldn’t get enough of the view. I noticed that about 90% of our time was spent on the balcony just sitting in the chairs and watching the scenery. The beach was basically a private beach

but it had its traffic … local condo dwellers taking a stroll, a woman and her son looking for shells, a horse and a rider from the nearby Sea Horse Ranch, a miniature Chihuahua barking at a sand crab, and, of course, the endless rhythm and sound of the waves. The whole experience was quite mesmerizing.



The condo is roughly half way between two popular beach resort towns … Sosua and Cabarete. In my mind I loosely compare them to Cannon Beach and Sea Side, Oregon which we used to visit regularly when the kids were smaller. Sosua, like Cannon Beach, is smaller with snorkeling and a museum of Jewish history. Cabarete is like Sea Side … lots of go-carts, night life, windsurfing, and activity. As a result Cabarete was our choice to visit the next day when we decided to do our souvenir shopping for Grandma.

We hit the streets around 10:00 that morning and were done in an hour. To be honest, I think Grandma would have bought anything just to say that she was done so that she could get out of the heat and humidity. I asked the lady of a small souvenir shop if Grandma could sit in her plastic chair under an overhead fan while Carol and Cherish were finishing shopping. She agreed. The back of the seat was cracked and it was wired together with baling wire but it was sturdy enough to give Grandma some temporary respite. When They came later to show the floppy beach hat they bought me so I wouldn’t look like a tourist, they looked around at the jewelry and bought some bobbles. So this lady’s generosity paid off a little bit.



When the shopping was over we made a beeline to the beach which is only a block or two from the main street no matter where you are. The little alley we chose as a path to the beach dropped us into a little place called Guinness Irish Pub, so we found a table and ordered something to drink. We sat under a large fan around a heavy wooden table for the next hour sipping on some very fancy tropical drinks with umbrellas stuck in them.



Eventually we moved just outside the pub onto some beach recliners under the palm trees to set up sort of a base camp. If at least one person stayed with our paraphernalia, the rest could walk, look for sea shells, and wade in the ocean … whatever.



When I noticed that Grandma had been gone a while I decided to find her. Five minutes later I saw her in the distance stooping over to pick up another small shell. I should mention here that after two days of combing two beaches, there seems to be no sizable sea shells deposited on these beaches here on the north end of the island. There’s probably a scientific reason, but all a person can find are small shells … which Grandma found plenty of.



When I caught up with her I noticed she had her hometown newspaper with her. The local newspaper in Caldwell will put your picture in the paper if you take a picture of yourself holding the paper in another country. She did this the last time she visited us in Venezuela and she wanted to do it again. So I suggested that this beach would be a great location for her picture since it is world famous for windsurfing and kitesurfing.

Just as she posed with the newspaper and I was ready to snap the picture with the curve of the tropical beach behind her, two topless female sunbathers walked slowly into view on their way to the water. Resisting the urge to snap the picture as joke, I lowered my camera and said, “You’ll have to wait a minute … look.” When she turned to see what was happening she was properly embarrassed. We Idahoans are just not adjusted to the European influence that we see pop up occasionally on the beaches here.



For the couple of hours that we hung out on the beach we had to constantly contend with the private vendors wanting to sell us their wares … homemade sweets, picture albums, sun glasses, jewelry. There was one woman that passed us maybe four or five times with a basket of fruit on her head with a large knife standing on end. She was a large black woman and she must have walked five miles in the sand just in those few hours we were there.

The way these vendors caught your attention was varied. My favorite was a round faced younger woman selling some kind of a picture album. She came directly to Carol saying, “oh, my, you are such a beautiful woman.” Then pointing to her wares she added, “To look is free!”

Locating a restaurant on the beach we decided to have a late afternoon lunch so we wouldn’t have to cook when we came back to the condo. It took a long time for them to take and make our order of chicken nuggets and a DR special, but this is typical in this country. We used our time to talk and watch the beach sights. Grandma's favorite sight was the native boy hired to rake the sand in front of our table and then wet it down with a garden hose. With the little bit of ocean breeze blowing on that garden hose mist, it made her feel cool. All enjoyable experiences associated with this visit had to have the descriptor “cool” attached to it.

Carol ordered an interesting shrimp dish where each shrimp looked like it had just been taken out of the ocean. In fact, it was just like the crayfish we dissected in biology class this year. I could identify the antennae, the eyes, the thorax, and the swimmerets. As it turned out, my scientific observations were not very appetizing. We finally had to ask the waitress how to eat something that looked like a miniature lobster. She didn’t know! So we just cracked it open with our fingers and peeled it like a very tough egg. Sometimes we feel like the country hicks we are.



The man with the air conditioned SUV taxi picked us up at Cabarete and dropped us off at the condo to relax for the rest of the evening after a full day. We played a crazy card game that Grandma taught us called Hand-and-Foot and took a dip in the pool before bed time. About that time I began to wonder what the common people were doing.



Designating our last day at the condo as a “do nothing” day we simply enjoyed the last few hours of this trip to paradise by relaxing. That evening I heard many excited screams coming from the beach. It was nearing evening and the waves were the largest we had seen since being here … presumable from the storm that had passed through the day before and treated us to the most fantastic thunder and lightning show we can remember seeing over an ocean.

The amusement park sounds intrigued me so I went down to the beach to find a group of about six people trying to ride the crashing waves. So I joined them. I discovered that if I swam past a certain point where the waves were breaking that a person could bob up and down on the crest of each big wave giving a sort of roller coaster thrill. It was so much fun that I forgot that I was out of shape. I paid for my hour of water aerobics for the next two days of sore muscles.

When Grandma came to investigate some time later I knew it would be too turbulent for her to come into the water, but I wanted to talk to her, so I began to swim to the shore. I rode a wave in and was deposited about 20 feet in front of my mother. However, I lost my footing and fell down.



She was talking to a couple of the girls who had been there originally. When I made it to my feet I looked up at them to say something clever to regain my dignity. Suddenly the eyes of all three of them became very round with panic as they looked at me. Just as I lifted my hands to shrug with a gesture of “What?” a huge wave hit me broad side on my back. The wave was taller than I was and I had no idea it was coming.

The wave crashed me forward in a tumbling ball of legs and arms, and then when I thought I could take a breath it dragged me back into the ocean across the sand filling my swim suit with handfuls of sand and feeling like sand paper on my skin. I knew consciously what was happening but I couldn’t control it.

Both women with Grandma were young and asked Mom, “Should we jump in to rescue him?” Oh, that would have been one for the Moscow newspaper … “RETIRED MOSCOW SCHOOL TEACHER PULLED FROM OCEAN BY 25 YEAR OLD GIRL.” Fortunately Grandma thought I could take care of myself and gave me a second to regain my composure. Eventually I found my feet and made it to shore a bit more humbled.

For a date Carol and I walked up the beach one evening to find a small restaurant that someone told us about. The name of the place was Natura Cabana and was absolutely idyllic. Located under a large conical thatched roof, the tables were elaborately set but no one was there. It was 5:30 when we arrived and a friendly waiter asked if he could seat us. We looked at the menu and placed our order. After opening the bottles of water and pouring it over the ice in our cups in a way that reminded me of pouring champagne he casually mentioned in an accent, “Do you know restaurant not open til 7:00?” (Another situation where we are supposed to know the rules but nothing is posted.)



After a bit of awkwardness he disappeared. Just as we were getting our things together with plans to return in an hour and a half, he came back and said, “I talk with chef and he say he start early for you.” With our gratitude expressed we asked if we could walk around to enjoy the grounds. What we found amazed us!



Unbeknownst to us, we had stumbled into a nest of New Agers. This place is some kind of a spiritual retreat center to help people “maximize your mental momentum and reconnect with your inner self.” Each of the ten cabanas (or bungalows) had a distinctive personality with unique architecture using local materials like cacoba, bamboo, coral, and artistic stonework … all illuminated seductively under the concepts of Feng Shui (whoever that is).

For “greater disconnection and spiritual growth” they even have a Yoga temple … the perfect place for uplifting the spirit (of darkness), practicing yoga, and meditation. I found it interesting to note that it was advertised first as a place to reconnect with your inner self, and then as a place to disconnect. Does anyone understand this stuff?



I think my personal favorite was the Attabeyra SPA (the goddess of waters in Taino culture). This SPA is the center of “spiritual” leisure offering all types of treatments such as massages, facial, mud or chocolate wraps (?), reflexology, and steam baths in their mystic “Mushroom”. The Taino Indians, by the way, was a sub-group of American Indians that lived in the Dominican Republic when Columbus landed here. They had many gods who were always angry and had to be pacified by elaborate and numerous sacrifices. Similar to our own North American Indians, they were an idolatrous culture … certainly nothing to be resurrected and emulated. But then again, that is exactly what the New Age religion is doing … bringing back idol worship and darkness … the doctrines of demons. Even though it seemed so ridiculous at first that it appeared humorous to me, after a few minutes humor was replaced with a deep sense of sorrow.

A comment by Walter Chantery seems appropriate here:
“No one who has God’s spirit can walk through our world without deep groaning of sorrow and distress when the stench of immorality fills his nostrils.’”

It seemed that I felt some of what he was talking about as I walked through those grounds. Coincidently two celebrities had died on this same day … Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett . Both were very talented and by outward appearances had seemingly gained the world but lost their souls. It was a somber note to reflect on.

At the restaurant, a pretty woman, who appeared to be on the back side of 30 introduced herself as the owner, expressed her desire that we enjoy ourselves. I could only imagine the unrest she had underneath that pleasant façade. And just think! All this spiritual refreshment and idol worship is yours for the modest price of 130 US dollars per night per person. Of course, this does not include SPA treatments, food, or a 16% sales tax.

On the way home at dusk as we hiked through the sand back to the condo, the sky was ablaze with the pinks and oranges of a tropical sunset over the ocean.



My heart and my mind later went back to the words of a Psalm that I read a few days before:

Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy,
and for thy truth’s sake. Wherefore should the heathen say, where is now their God?
But our God is in the heavens: He hath done whatsoever he hath pleased.

Their idols are silver and god, the work of men’s hands. They have mouth but they speak not. Eyes have they but they see not: They have ears, but they hear not:
noses have they, but they smell not: They have hands, but they handle not:
feet have they but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat.

They that make them are like unto them; so is everyone that trusteth in them.
O Israel, trust thou in the LORD: he is their help and their shield. Psa 115:1-8

Out of Darkness

“Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his
wonderful works to the children of men! For he satisfieth the
longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness. Such as
sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, being bound in affliction
and iron; Because they rebelled against the words of God, and contemned
the counsel of the most High: Therefore he brought down their heart with
labor; they fell down, and there was none to help. Then they cried unto
the LORD in their trouble, and he saved them out of their distresses.
He brought them out of darkness, and the shadow of death, and brake their
bands in sunder.” Psa 107:8-14

When I read these verses exactly one year ago before I came to the Dominican Republic I saw my daughter’s face on every verse, and with a father’s heart I prayed that God in His goodness would “satisfy the longing soul” and bring her “out of darkness.” Specifically my three biggest requests were that He would meet her spiritual needs, protect her physically, and release her from prison.

One year later (June 15th) I was reading the same passage and I still had the same concerns, so I laid those same three requests before the feet of Jesus.



Two hours later the phone rang. A friend told my wife that they had picked up the judges’ decision for her recent appeal and Cherish was to be legally released on parole! In fact, he was on his way to deliver the decision to the prison and to get Cherish.

At 1:00 that afternoon Cherish called on a cell phone as she was in the car pulling away from the prison. She was absolutely giddy! She knew that morning when she got up that it was the day to receive the decision of her court appeal, but during her devotions told the Lord that as much as she wanted out, she truly wanted His best for her life. It had not escaped her notice that when she rebelled against the words of God, He brought down her heart with labor. It was in prison when she cried unto the Lord in her trouble. He sent His word and healed her … in prison. So she knew that it could still be God’s will for her to remain in prison.

So she got up that morning and continued her normal routine of prison life not wanting to take anything for granted. I believe that once she has started this parole request five months ago with the resulting roller coaster ride of hope and disappointment, she has been humbled under the sovereignty of God, and like Nebuchadnezzar has learned that the Most High ruleth over all the earth. At least she expressed sentiments similar to this to me.

Somehow the inmates learned the news of her release before she did. While she was busy with her routine prison chores she looked up to see a group of screaming, excited girls running toward her. Some were in tears of joy … some in tears of sorrow knowing she would be leaving. I can hardly imagine the bond that these girls must feel after being together for four years in a hard situation like this.

While she was on the phone with us for the first time as a free woman I asked what she was going to do. With a slight hesitation she said, “I haven’t thought about it … and I don’t think it matters right now.” She couldn’t get over the feeling of being able to look around without seeing an “agent” (prison security guard), or to lift her arms without having handcuffs on. Oh, she did mention to Carol that she was thinking about robbing a bank. I’m pretty sure she was joking … right?

Our daughter spent the night in the capitol Santo Domingo so she could visit a few of the Christian friends who had been such a support and fellowship in the last few years. It reminded me of Peter in the book of Acts when he was miraculously released from prison. He immediately went to share the news to his Christian brothers and sisters who were praying for him.

While our daughter was in prison, the computer game Wii was invented, we can see our granddaughters while talking with our son in Japan on something called “Skype”, and Cherish lost both of her grandfathers. She is catching up on the technology, but nothing can replace the loss of family or the memories of being able to say a proper goodbye. One of her main prayer requests was to be able to see her only surviving grandmother …. my mother. God answered that prayer in a wonderful way.







On the same day that her grandmother boarded a plane to fly to the DR to visit us, our daughter walked out of prison as a “semi-free” woman. And, on the same day that Grandma landed in Santiago, Cherish came up to welcome her at the airport. On that day (June 16) we saw our daughter for the first time since she was on parole and saw my mother for the first time in a year.




For the next two weeks we witnessed an answer to prayer as our daughter and her grandmother spent time together. Grandma taught her how to line dance. They swapped stories, walked on the beach, shopped at malls, and went to church together. Just as my wife’s grandmother Sasser has been a strong, godly example in her memory through the years, I believe Grandma Dale will be the same for our daughter who sincerely wants to please God.














Grandma has gone back to Idaho now and we are beginning a new life together with our daughter. I praise God that He brought her out of darkness, and the shadow of death, and brake her bands in sunder.