The Cuba Diaries: Believe it or not, a Mission Trip isn’t Nearly the Same as a Vacation.
I’ve have been so extremely lucky to be able to go on multiple mission trips. I’ve been to Washington D.C., Chicago, even more locally in Kingsport, TN. This has created some of the greatest memories of my life. But it was far from “fun”.
I remember walking to a men’s homeless shelter in D.C. hearing a man colorfully shouting at us “F*** you! Give me money.” I saw the heartache of seeing tents and a small fire built outside these shelters because they were too full and it was cold and raining outside.I saw team members having to get another team member to leave a man on the side of the street because we were worried about her safety as she tried to offer the man who was high some water. I saw a street blocked off as we walked to our next destination and heard the police radio in “we have a white unconscious male, late 20s...” I experienced walking back to our church in Chicago at 1-2 in the morning in an area that a quick Google search will show the prominent gang of that area dwelled in the Satanic world and rites. It was on those same streets we met a group of homeless men and one woman (maybe a dozen or more in the group) sleeping in the open who at first didn’t speak any English, but in time opened up and went from claiming to not understanding us to having full conversations with us. I heard their stories. I saw the shelters that men stayed in with no shower curtains or bathroom doors for privacy. I saw the shame they felt because of their circumstances.
But that’s not the trip I want to write about right now. I want to talk about my trip to Cuba. This was a trip that drastically changed my life and walk with God.
(a group picture of our full team on the first full day of our ministry)
Theres’s a couple of things I want to point out before I begin. First, I will try to exaggerate nothing. I will be as honest and blunt as I remember how events happened. Some in our team may remember differently. But this was my account and feelings. Second, the organization I worked with, “Adventures in Missions”, there will be a negative picture painted about them and their leadership by the end. But this is my account. I disagree with them on a lot of things that occurred in Cuba, I plan to never use them again, but at the same time, I realize this group has also done a lot of good for God and many people have also spread the Gospel through this group. Including myself. I know there are good people who work there and I do not want to take away from the good they do. But the truth is what it is, and my truth is far from pretty. Third. There were some evil people on our team. I mean truly evil. Not of God. These were the Americans on our team. With that said, I met some of the greatest people on our team who were Americans... Tracy (who quickly became our missions mom), Sara, Morgan, Ashley, and Colt (just to name a few). These were some of the best and most sincere people I have ever met in my life and there is no where in the world I wouldn’t go with them to serve God again. For respect, I want share the names of those who I felt were doing the opposite of good.
I was standing on top of a roof in Kingsport, TN doing work that I probably had no business doing, but that’s where God led me. I remember it very clearly It was an extremely hot day. There was a East Tennessee State University sign on the yard across from the house we were at. I was talking to our team leader who I had really built a great relationship with. I was explaining to her that I felt God was calling me to do something more, to go somewhere else. I wasn’t sure where. I was leaning towards Haiti, but I was struggling to decipher where exactly. She told me Cuba was where I needed to go. She told me fascinating stories about it. Stories that frightened me.
I have to be honest. I didn’t pray about this as I should have. Yes there were prayers, but I had my mind made up already. While I didn’t do my due diligence in prayer, I still believe God wanted me to go there, but I didn’t allow Him to be a partner in my decision.
My motives were also messed up. I remember very clearly. I wanted to go somewhere that showed my faith meant something. I remember thinking to myself that I wanted to go somewhere that it could be dangerous to share the Gospel. I felt like I needed to prove, for some twisted reasoning I can't explain, that I would be willing to lose my life for Christ if I had to. So I applied and was accepted.
My mom didn’t handle the news very well. She was not happy and was admittedly terrified. In preparation for the trip (which was a year away), I listened to one song repeatedly. This song actually was one that gave me the courage I needed.
Where doubt and faith collide.
Of a fear that has to die.
I’ll give You my whole life.
I will go where You send me.
Just say the word and I’ll go.
I will go where You lead me.
These were the lyrics I wrote and left taped to my mom’s car steering wheel in hopes that she would understand why.
I quickly applied for my passport. Along with a passport, I applied for a Visa to get into the country of Cuba. It was still very recently at that time that the Castro family and Obama had worked on opening the Cuban boarders for incoming flights for American tourism. This American tourism was what allowed us to go.
We were informed under no circumstances were we to state our reason on the Visa was for church work and when we entered the country, when asked why we were there, our response was to be “to see the sights and learn about the history and culture of Cuba.” Do not openly wear any missions shirt or religious signs. Lastly, if at all possible bring 6 Spanish Bibles to give to the Cuban church, BUT spread these Bibles out in our luggage, so if we are searched, they wouldn’t all be in the same location and we could avoid any suspicion.
I booked my flight. I would go from Knoxville to Charlotte, and from there to Miami. I would stay one night in Miami and fly to Cuba early in the morning.
I don’t how everyone else on our team felt, but the days leading up to it, I was terrified. I was afraid of a multitude of things.
What if the plane crashed?
What if we were arrested?
I read the statistics of everything, and common sense said I should be safe if was smart and took the necessary precautions while there, but the fear persisted. So much so, until writing this, I don’t believe I’ve ever said before, I contacted a friend from college who knew my parents very well. I gave her a list of things to tell my parents if something were to happen to me, most importantly that I loved them. I remember being in my car driving down Main Street in Jacksboro having this conversation and having those tears in my eyes because I had never felt like something like that was necessary in my previous trips.
As I crossed security in the airport in Knoxville, I remember looking back at my parents for the longest time afraid it was the last time I would ever see them again.
On the flight, I had my music on shuffle on my phone. It was here that God provided the first miracle of my trip. The song I wrote about above, it was the first song that came on as the flight took off. I knew God was telling me He knew I was scared, but I was doing what He wanted me to do.
The second good news, my leader from Kingsport who recommended the trip to Cuba would be the one leading this trip. That was great news for me. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be as great as I thought.
Arriving in Cuba: Fears Realized
Before the flight from Miami to Cuba took off, I called my parents and told them I would try and contact them as soon as I could, but don’t panic if they didn’t hear from me.
When we landed, it was extremely quiet, no one was talking. Not every team member was on our flight (there was only one team member on my flight), so other experiences may have been different as flights landed at different places and people exited at different locations. Our location, I remember distinctively feeling like this is how cows led to slaughter felt like. Straight line. Dark halls. Eerily quiet.
I was quickly questioned why I was there and even where I was staying. The man asking where I was staying did not like my answer because he wasn’t satisfied for my explanation of how I would be getting there because it was so far away. Then there was luggage claims. It took much longer than usual. I wasn’t sure how long to wait before I had to notify someone my luggage may be lost. Maybe it was just fear and it wasn’t longer than usual. All I knew was I did not want these people to know anything about me.
I distinctively noticed how sexualized the women working at the airport were. The men were dressed professionally, the women wore a similar uniform, but much more revealing. Much, much more.
We waited for about two hours outside before we found the first person on our team. Cell phones didn’t work, so there was nothing we could do but wait. I felt every eye on me. Several approached us asking if we needed transportation, government officials questions where we were going.
And there was nothing we could do.
When our team leader found us, she had a couple others with her. She took us to a parking lot where an old school bus was parked that would be our “limousine” during our time there.
(Waiting to put luggage on the bus)
In the sun it felt like a thousand degrees, and I like wearing long sleeve shirts (even in summer). I quickly regretted this.
It turned out our team was spread all over the airport that spanned miles, and you could only reach the different terminals by driving to them. So we were off on another adventure.
(during the time we were searching for our team members)
On the bus were hot sandwiches waiting for us, and I don’t mean toasted. Apparently coolers are not a thing in Cuba. It was a meat I had never tried in my life, and I hope to never try again. No, I don’t know the name of it. In addition water as hot as the sun.
But this is the missions life where showers are a luxury.
With all of us together, we were off. On a bus drive that was around 3-4 hours if I remember correctly. But on a bus in the Cuban heat with no air conditioning, it felt like much longer.
While driving, an hour outside of Havana, we were pulled over by the police. He walked on to the bus. Looked at all of us. Had a conversation with the driver of our bus. There was no need to pull us over, and no explanation was given. There was a hush on the bus and I was certain we were about to go to jail. When he did let us leave, I talked to our leader about it. She informed me there had been times in the past they had to bribe the officers to let them pass.
Halfway to our destination, we stopped to eat. It was a house, but they also turned it into a small restaurant. I had my first meal of many that included rice and hot mango smoothies... that were literally only mango smashed up and nothing else except some hot water.
We finally made it to Matanzas, the city we would be staying. A city where I felt a presence of evil I’ve never felt before.
The first night was about meeting the Cuban people we would be working with. While there, one of the pastors, Jimmy, who I hadn’t even spoken to at this point had the translator ask me if I would preach one night. Why he chose me? I’m not certain. I’m not a preacher. But I wanted to talk about God. So I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I started working on my notes quickly. Little did I know those notes would change in just a few days because of what I was about to experience.
I had a casa (basically a room that I’m probably misspelling) completely by myself. I was suppose to be with another person, but a personal family crisis occurred days before the trip and he couldn’t come. So it was just me.
(Standing outside my Casa on the second floor; 1 room; I never ventured to the third floor)
This wouldn’t be a bad thing, except I was much farther away from the rest of my team. Every morning, I would wake up around 8:00 and make a 20-30 minute walk to the church building we would meet at. This walk included walking by what I surmised was a Cuban military recruiting or training base. I saw the soldiers there every morning. I kept my headphones in and listened to worship music as I prayed for God that I wouldn’t be stopped. This was every morning. We typically wouldn’t go back to our Casa until 1-2 in the morning. I walked for about 5-10 minutes with our team. Then we split up. Then I walked the rest of the way by myself. I kept the key between my fingers, ready if someone approached me so I could defend myself. I walked as quickly as I could, I never looked back.
The most fear I had during these walks was walking by a large group of soldiers with armed vehicles carrying assault rifles and other gear only a few blocks from our church. I was certain they would be coming to our church soon to get us.
By the way, the church building, well it wasn’t really a church building in the typical sense. It was a house. Churches aren’t exactly something the government in Cuba wants. So they’re forced to have church in their houses, not in actual church buildings. In fact, one of the pastors had at one time been a government official sent into spy on the churches and get members to leave. Instead, he found God and was saved. His mother and wife followed suit soon after he took them. He is now making huge impacts spreading the Gospel.
The Crazy is Just Getting Started
God is a God of miracles. He does amazing things. I have no doubt. So I want to be sensitive. BUT! My faith isn’t built solely on the the miracles I can see. This was not the case for the Cubans.
We started the first morning outside for “church”. Very elaborate. Very big prayers. Very loud prayers. I remember it was a Sunday and I missed my church so badly that morning, thinking of what they were doing as I was doing my own church service.
(Preparing for one of our church services)
Everything they said, I know they genuinely felt and believed, but it was going to become apparent over time that their foundation of faith was built on flaws. For example, one night, the pastor’s wife wanted us to watch a video of “miraculous healings”. You know the kind I’m talking about. The ones where the pastor hits them in the face, they fall down, and BAM! They’re healed. The one’s that believers and unbelievers alike call out for the obvious blasphemy. The kind that make it more difficult for unbelievers to actually understand what church is; that does more harm than good.
After 40 minutes of this video, our team leader finally found a way to save us from the rest (which was two hours long; also, it was 1 in the morning).
We went to different places in the city to minister to people.
One of the more heartbreaking scenes, a man similar to my age laying in bed completely paralyzed. He had a diving accident in his life. They wanted each of us to pray that he would be miraculously healed.
I BELIEVE IN BOLD PRAYERS.
But I believe in the power of the God I pray to more than I believe in the power of my words. I believe we are to pray for healings and miracles. We give it all to God. But we still trust him when He doesn’t move how we want. This would be the first example of salvation built only on what God would do. I don’t mean that’s how this man felt. But it would become a pattern: “If you believe, God will do great things.” It was a chain of theology that needed broke.
Adventures in Missions was so wrong in their approach to missions in Cuba. The Cuban church is doing amazing things. I was amazed at the fact they were sending missionaries out into other parts of the world, countries even worse than Cuba. However, the missions work in Cuba needs to be built on teaching and giving resources to the church in Cuba before it starts trying to go out with the Cubans to minister when it’s only ministering in the flawed beliefs of salvation that so many in the Cuban church had.
I believe the church they had to match the miracles of God with the miracles of other religions, notably Santeria, which was basically Cuban witchcraft and was surrounding us in Matanzas. There were multiple houses all around us with idols inside where they were openly practicing Santeria.
(One of the streets outside our church; puddles of water like this were all in the city, and you could often spot minnows swimming in them)
Looking Across the Atlantic
A quick side note, the ocean in Cuba is beautiful. The oppression in Cuba is very ugly and very real. If I remember the numbers correctly, families are given what equates to $12 a month by the Cuban government. Many work second and third jobs to try and make a little extra money. However, we were told if a family tries to escape the country, they will stop the $12 a month income for that family.
Visas are near impossible to get. If you are married for example, they will grant you one Visa, but not two, because if both leave, there is a good chance they won’t return.
I try not to talk politics, but I’m openly conservative. I believe in immigration and I believe in doing it legally. But that thought was challenged while in Cuba. As I looked across the ocean, I longed for home. For the first time, I had a real understanding of why families risk their lives to reach the United States. So, as conservative as I am, as much as I believe still in legal immigration, I also believe as a country we are failing people who are looking to us for a beacon of hope and as somewhere safe to go.
Different Approaches and Missing Girls
One morning we are outside the church. One of the pastor wants to pray over each of us individually, speaking over us what he felt God was saying. A translator would repeat the prayer in English. I won’t say what he said to me. I don’t know if it was from God, but it hit home.
A few people after me, the events would cause our trip to take a drastic turn. Suddenly, one of the women is down on the ground, hysterically crying. We don’t know what is going on. She is claiming the God has suddenly given her the gift of prophecy.
One such prophecy she would make on our trip was the church we were working with would have their own huge building within one year. To the best of my knowledge, this has yet to happen despite prophesying it would supposedly occur in less than a year. It was a prophecy that would have required drastic government changes.
She made all types of prophecies over the course of our time. She would often substitute “God” for “me” when declaring these prophecies and spoke often of committing suicide before God had brought her back.
If you are at all familiar with the book of Revelation, then you are familiar with the false prophet. No, she was not the false prophet Scripture speaks of. I often wondered how entire nations could be deceived in the way Revelation proclaims. I saw how. I saw how good people who believed in God fell for everything she said, and she became like a savior.
However, before all her prophecies began, I just thought this was something that just was what it was, and nothing would come of it. Then, two girls on our team disappeared. We were in a mad search to find them. We had no clue where they were. There was a real fear for their safety. When we found them, they ran from us. It turns out this trip was already too much for them. They were finally able to get communication home and arranging to leave the group. They were the wise ones looking back.
That night, as a team we met during our debriefing. We openly acknowledged we didn’t all agree with everything, but that’s what happens at mission trips. It’s about believing in the same gospel ultimately, so we were willing to accept different opinions about some things and grow from it.
(I took a picture of this house before I realized the events within would completely change me)
This is the day my faith was challenged.
It was just the day before I was finally able to get ahold of my mom. There was one place in the city with internet. You purchased a card and you had a signal in one small park for a limited amount of time. This was a way to control their people. I quickly called my mom to assure her I was safe. It was the first time I had talked to her since I had landed. I didn’t tell her the craziness that had already occurred. It would be more than a year after I returned before I ever told her everything. I tried reaching my dad, but was unsuccessful.
We went to a house with a little girl who was paralyzed. This is when the split in our team happened. I along with several other team members refused to go into the house because they were claiming the girl couldn’t walk because her parents were practicing Santeria.
Yes, you read that right. The girl was being punished by God because of the sins of her parents.
I would have prayed for that girl. Everyone on our team would have. But I refused to say this girl was being punished by God because her parents. I would not accept that. We were at that house for several hours.
(Standing outside the house)
Finally, I had to use the bathroom, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I went in. During this, there was shouting and screaming, breaking of glass. Another team member suddenly got the gift of prophecy as well, or so she claimed. She was directing the others where the “evil was”. I need to make you understand, these were our American team members.
I could not believe this.
I got outside as soon as I could. Looking back, I wish I would have called them out on the harm they were doing.
Later, one of our team members came out with a stuffed animal and other things that belong to this young girl as well as a butcher knife. He began tearing the stuff apart. Then set it on fire outside.
This was the moment that triggered my journey and question that I’ve already wrote about in the past of “Who are you God?”
On the bus ride back (about an hour long ride), I did something I had never done up to that point before. I wrote my prayer down.
Essentially, “God, if I’m wrong about who I think You are, then just show me because I want to know you.” Ive never shared that prayer before, but here’s part of what I wrote that night, using my cell flashlight so I could see:
I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to write this down. I struggle in this life knowing You. I have an idea of the relationship I want to have with you. But I’m afraid it’s wrong. I’m afraid you demand a different type of relationship. I want to be intimate with you. I want to be able to talk to you......
I came here wanting my faith to be challenged, and it has been. But not how I expected. I’m trying to figure this all out, but God, I’m struggling. And it hurts because right now I feel as if this prayer angers you. That it’s not respectful enough, because it’s not big and bold. But Lord, it’s said we love You because You first loved us. And I understand that now. But the reason I love you is because the way I picture this love you have for me. And I hurt because all I want to do is make You happy, but I feel like I’m failing. God, if I’m suppose to speak big and bold prayers, speak in tongues, cast out demons, dance, scream, holler, then show me. Because I will do whatever it takes to pease you....
And I believe that story of You is a story of the God I believe You are....
I don’t know what happened tonight. But I sense us giving ourselves credit and you’ve been eliminated from it. God, I can’t figure this out on my (own), and please forgive me if I’m wrong. But I love you. I’m going to listen for You now. so please speak. I love you.
The next miracle, the next song that came on as I finished writing that prayer was “How He Loves” by Crowder. I didn’t understand all of it, but I understood enough to know that God was telling me that our team was in the wrong for the things that happened in that house.
We arrived back at the church and we didn’t debrief that night. It was quiet. We all walked back to our casas.
We tried to have conversations with our team leader the next day, but she was on board with the stuff we witnessed. In fact, the “new prophet” made the comment to another team members (and I’m paraphrasing) that she meant nothing at all to her. Secret meetings were held without us. The tension was high.
One afternoon we left the city to go to some farmland to minister to people who lived there.
Our team split into two groups. You can imagine how the groups looked. We went to the houses, and we prayed for people, but the prayers were very intentional. We prayed for God to show love, to show His presence. For these people to feel God. Honestly, I believe these were some of the most beautiful prayers I have ever heard in my life.
On a heartbreaking note, we encountered one woman with a serious infection in her legs. Tracy, who was a nursing professor at the University of Clemson told us it wasn’t something that looked good, and she needed real medical attention, something that wasn’t offered in Cuba.
But there was a real joy of us being able to minister to people. It was the first time we actually had that opportunity to do so.
Then we rejoined the rest of our team...
Our joy quickly vanished. They brought with them a man who had struggled with (if I remember correctly, and this part may be wrong) alcoholism and other ailments. But he was given a promise. If he prayed to God and got saved, he would be healed of all those things right then. Of course he signed up for this type of religion.
My question, what happened when he struggled with something?
When his prayer wasn’t immediately answered?
Only one answer, God is a fraud.
So let’s go to the next religion that promises something to us. The Christianity our team spread was no different in than those practicing Santeria.
Despite all this, being away from the city was good for my soul. As soon as we arrived back and I stepped off the bus. I felt a heaviness in my entire body. I felt evil. I truly felt it. It was a weight I couldn’t carry. While I was in the city, I had thoughts that I am so ashamed of to write on here. My evil heart was fully exposed. The worst of my sins and feelings were magnified within my mind. The thoughts I had there are thoughts I never plan to repeat. Thoughts I never plan to tell anyone. It’s a shame I still carry. It was only in that city.
Every night, I laid in my bed afraid to open my eyes because I felt the evil all around me in that room, so far away from everyone. I constantly felt like I was being watched. I fell asleep praying every night. I never ended the prayer. I literally fell asleep talking to God. During those prayers, he provided me the peace I needed.
I believe the enemy is wise. He is so wise. There are enough lukewarm Christians that if he ever revealed himself in the U.S., then the Church of Christ would explode. It would rise up. So no, he won’t reveal himself like that here. At least not yet.
Preaching the Gospel in Cuba: Christ is my Firm Foundation
“Christ is my Firm Foundation.” That’s what my message I preached to the church became. It was originally intended to be about spreading the Gospel as a church.
I wanted to preach about grace, not the law. That Jesus fulfilled all those thing. I wanted to break down the walls of tradition that they had built up. So much was based on God doing good things because we do the good thing by getting saved. I wanted them to know that we still sin even after salvation.
If you read the Old Testament, you know that Jacob wasn’t exactly a great guy. It’s after his “God encounter” and his name is changed to Israel, we see him redeemed. Here’s what’s interesting, though. When God described Himself, he’d often refer to Himself as the God of Abraham and other great people and things He did. But get this. He also referred to Himself as the God of Jacob. Why? Wouldn’t God want us to know Him as the God of the good guy? The God of Israel. The version that was redeemed.
God is the God of Israel in our redeemed state, but He’s also the God of Jacob. He’s the God of the worst of us when we sin uncontrollably, when we do not have any good within us.
Translation to the Cuban church: Your love and gifts from God are not a result of what you do. You will still sin. When you sin, you don’t lose that love, you don’t lose the power of God that is within you. If he doesn’t answer your prayers how you want, it’s not because you aren’t good enough. He’s the God of Jacob. He’s the God who wore our sins. So he’s not running from them now.
(Worship in the Cuban church)
Leaving the Cuban airport was a much different experience than arriving. Leaving many of our team members was a sad time. Some of our team members, there wasn’t even a goodbye. Several of us were on a flight with our team leader. She said nothing to us until we arrived in Charlotte.
Several of us contacted AIMs with our concerns and experiences over what happened. No follow ups from them occurred. If anything, I personally felt betrayed. I had one team member who worked at the AIMs headquarters reach out to me and it became obvious he was fishing for information for AIMs. He was a person I had looked up to.
Crazier yet, our team leader randomly showed up in LaFollette, Tennessee. I wasn’t home at the time. How she got my address, to this day I don’t know.
One of my earlier blogs I wrote was a response to the leader of the band Hawk Nelson declaring he no longer believed in God. My instagram is set to public. While I don’t follow her (I don’t think she does me, but I could be wrong), she saw that post and commented “You don’t believe in God?” (once again, I may be paraphrasing). But it was set up as a personal attack; one that was unnecessary. In the years that followed the trip, I have been deleted from her Facebook, blocked entirely, and then more friend requests before being blocked again, and then sent more requests.
I think of my time in Cuba often. I believe that God wanted me there. I’ve always joked I would never go back unless He sent me, but I prayed He wouldn’t send me back. In all seriousness, I don’t know if I ever will go back. I don’t know what my future holds in that respect. But I do know, there’s a lot of good people there that God is working with.
But I also know there are enemies working to prevent a true, unpolluted version of the Gospel from being spread. Unfortunately, as I learned in the summer of 2017, many of those enemies are even located within the church.
(Jose, our translator; one of the greatest guys I have ever met in my life)
(Another one of the pastors in the Cuban church; this was on my last night)
