
Students in 2014 in the Liceo Bilingue La Puerta, the school my wife and I founded with so much work. Good people joined and helped us.
I’ve known churches that dive kamikaze when the pastor leaves, so naturally I was anxious. But it’s been four years since I sought refuge in the United States from criminal threat. And the church my wife and I started 20 years ago is thriving. So too the school.
It feels like I died. (At just about anybody’s funeral, all the good things are remembered. When somebody dies, you see what his impact was.)
Now that I’m visiting Guatemala again, I’m seeing people who I reached out to 20 years ago. They express profound appreciation.
“I don’t know who he is, but I’m going to go give him a hug,” one schoolkid said. The kids thronged me. My eyes misted… Even those who never knew me appreciate the years of toil to establish a work of God.
People are still getting saved. The school continues to be a safe harbor. The disciples continue to labor to extend God’s kingdom.
For the first time in my life, I can see a legacy. And I ask myself: What will my legacy be in the United States?