Honduras 2025
“He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.” — Luke 8:25
On Monday, June 2, our 35-member Honduras Mission team had no choice but to trust in the one who commands the water.
We’d finished up our second clinic day, where we set up our medical clinic with deworming, eyeglasses, and other medications, and our Children’s Ministry team spent time running around with the kids. The trip to this village took about 3 hours, (a truck ride, a ferry ride, and another truck ride after the ferry). Sometimes, it’s not easy to reach the villages that we serve, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. When we left the village, we arrived near the shore of Lake Yojoa, the largest lake in Honduras, waiting for the next ferry to arrive, and transport us back to the other side. We had arrived late, around 3:20pm, but were told that the next ferry would arrive by 4 to pick us up.
Lake Yojoa with the Ferry we used to cross it
We stood on the side of the mountain, talking, eating snacks, and sweating, ready to return to our hotel and enjoy the air conditioning once again.
As we waited for the ferry to appear in the distance, what we actually noticed was what was disappearing: the mountain ranges were being covered by ominous clouds in the distance. A telltale sign that rain was coming.
An hour passed. An hour and a half. No sign of the ferry, and the mountains that used to cover the sky had completely disappeared. Then the storm hit.
Storm on the horizon
Our team of 35 huddled under a little bus stop area, with a tin roof that sounded like it was going to fly off at any second, and no walls to protect us from the rain that was now coming in sideways. We were a comical mix of ponchos and rain jackets.
Around 5:15, when the storm was raging, we saw the ferry in the distance. It felt like the worst possible time for a giant hunk of metal to be sailing on water. He couldn’t reach our shore to pick us up, and for about 5-10 minutes, I think most of us were worried that he was going to smash into the side of the mountain. I was nauseous just watching him being pummeled by the waves. He docked on a small divot in the mountain, and we just watched and waited.
It’s difficult to describe the intensity of this storm. At one point, I turned away from the water and prayed that God would keep our ferry driver safe, not just from the waves, but from the lightning that seemed to be right on top of us. I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to leave our minimal shelter. I was worried that we would be stuck on this side of the lake for the night.
But I forgot who commands the winds and waters.
Spoiler alert: the winds eventually died down enough for our ferry driver to reach us and take us across. Our team is now home safely—with far more meaningful stories to share than just the storm—stories of the 598 Hondurans we served, the smiles we shared, and the unmistakable providence of God.
Later that week, we found out something remarkable: the man who ended up driving our ferry hadn’t been scheduled to. The original driver had become disoriented in the rough waves and had to be replaced. Because of that unexpected change, our ferry didn’t depart until after the worst of the storm had passed. By God’s mercy, we crossed the lake during a calmer moment, rather than being caught in the storm’s initial fury. It was an amazing moment of clarity, realizing that even in our fear, God was orchestrating the safest way for us to get home.
It’s easy to be swept up in fear, whether by the literal winds or the winds of change, brokenness, conflict, finances, danger, etc., but we must not forget the One who commands both the wind and the waves.
Face painting!
Our team spent the rest of the week doing what we have always done: we set up a receiving line in an open-air classroom, complete with an initial screening, prenatal vitamins, a deworming station, an optometrist, prescription medication, and more. The Children’s Ministry team spent the days singing, running around, coloring, and playing with the kids, teaching them about the love of their Savior.
Showing off her new crown!
As I reflect on this 26th annual trip, this storm on Lake Yojoa was just one small part of the story that God was writing. We witnessed his power in the wind and the waves, but also through each painkiller given and each prayer spoken. The same God who calmed the storm and made way for us to get home, prepared the way for 598 people to be seen, known, and loved.
While the storm story might be the one you hear when you ask a team member about the trip, the deeper truth we bring home is that our God is present in every village, every spanglish conversation, every storm, and every moment in between. He is still commanding the winds—and still worthy of our praise and trust.
An intense game of Tug-o-War
Clinic Day