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Welcome to Covered in His Dust.
Romans 3:27 is coming your way on Sunday. I promise.
Once a year, we raise the operating budget of our ministry based in Guatemala. For the next four nights, at 7:15pm MST / 9:15pm EST, you'll get an email from me. Not theology or deep Bible breakdown. Just the work, the people, the places, and the reason Covered in His Dust exists in the first place.
There’s no pressure to give. None. I just want you to know who's on the other side of this newsletter.
My wife Vonda and I have lived in Guatemala for fourteen years. I started writing Covered in His Dust two years ago because I was starving. Most Christians are. We're hungry for something deeper than what we're getting on Sunday morning and nobody's saying it out loud.
If you've ever wondered what my life actually looks like day to day, the next four nights are for you.
If you want to stay connected, join our monthly ministry email.
I’ll send you a free copy of my first book, Do You Love Me? Giving up the American Dream to Serve the Underprivileged. ($24.99 on Amazon.)
50 stories from the missionary field of Guatemala.
"This book is breathtaking and shows what God’s love looks like."
— Brenda
Physical copy if you’re in the U.S.
Digital anywhere else.
Thank you for reading Covered in His Dust and reading about our lives as missionaries over the next 4 nights.
On August 6th, we celebrate a quiet milestone.
Vonda and I will have been married in Guatemala longer than we were married in the United States.
Twenty-eight years. Fourteen of them here.
We didn’t know how long we would be in Guatemala. Our plan was to build houses, feed people in crisis, and follow Christ’s lead.
Our hearts transformed.
It was clear.
“Share the Gospel.”
We built a Christian middle school. We adopted five kids. We dug our heels in deep and somewhere in the middle of all of that, Guatemala stopped being the place we were serving and started being the place we live.
I read something recently that I felt in my bones.
"Where's your favorite place?"
"I don't have a favorite place.
I have favorite people.
And when I'm with those people,
that's my favorite place."
That's it. That's the whole answer.
Guatemala is home.
Cuba is home.
And when we fly back to hug our adult kids, the United States is home.
We miss them more than we know how to say. But there are nine Cuban pastors, five interns, fifteen employees, a school full of kids, a community of widows and every single one of them is a person we’re not willing to walk away from.
This year, we want to take you deeper into Cuba.
I had a Cuba trip on the calendar for April.
Then Venezuelan leader Nicolás Maduro was captured in an early morning raid.
I immediately moved my trip to early February
Cuba is run by a communist regime. There are no guarantees. No "I'll just reschedule." When the regime feels pressured, borders close, flights stop, and you don't know when you're getting back in.
So why rush the trip?
I knew the oil would stop and I knew it would get bad fast.
So I changed my flight, packed a backpack full of cash, and got there before the country shut down. Because there are no banks, no Venmo, no wire transfers that reach Cuban pastors.
Most people heard that news and went on with their day. Another dictator. Another headline. But if you know Cuba, you know that when Maduro fell, the island didn't just feel it. It collapsed a little more.
For over twenty years, Venezuela and Cuba had a deal most of the world never heard about.
Venezuela had oil. Cuba had doctors. In fact, almost everyone I meet in Cuba is either a doctor, studying to be one, or has a doctor living next door.
So they traded.
At its peak, Venezuela was shipping Cuba nearly 100,000 barrels of oil per day. In return, Cuba sent tens of thousands of doctors, nurses, and teachers to work in Venezuelan neighborhoods.
Sounds like a good deal.
Until you hear the other half.
Venezuela paid thousands of dollars a month per doctor. The doctor received maybe $200 a month. Their family back home got a small stipend. The Cuban government kept the rest. It wasn't a humanitarian program. It was a human export system. Those doctors were a currency. And that currency kept the lights on in Cuba for twenty years.
When Maduro fell, the lights went out.
When I landed in Cuba on February 9th, the government announced that every airport in Cuba would be out of fuel within four days.
Four days.
I wasn't worried about getting home. I was on a flight out of Miami with enough fuel to return. But that announcement feels different when you're already inside.
While I was there we had a few hours of electricity per day.
Universities had completely shut down.
Doctors were being told they had to cut down on the number of surgeries being performed.
Every one of my last seven trips to Cuba has shown me a country with a little less left in it. No bread in the ration lines. No beans. No sugar. Gas prices that kept climbing until there was no gas at all.
The pastors I sat with weren't talking about themselves. They weren't talking about the regime. They weren't talking about the blackouts or the gas or the ration lines.
They were talking about eternity.
They were talking about bread that never runs out.
They were talking about a Kingdom that no government can touch.
We want to invite you to our annual ministry fundraiser.
Which starts… right now.
This year's goal is $151,500. That's not a round number we picked for fun. It is the actual cost of staying.
It's a big number. I know.
But here's what that number does:
It pays the salaries of 15 employees. It puts meals on the table five days a week for every staff member and student. It stocks our food pantry for families in crisis. It funds our widows program with food, firewood, and medical care. It covers the medical program. It keeps clean water flowing through the community. It funds the Academy curriculum and keeps us in good standing with the Guatemalan government. It keeps the lights on, the internet running, and the insurance paid.
And this year, it helps us stand with nine Cuban pastors who are preaching the gospel in the dark. Literally.
As King David prepared for the temple he would never build, he prayed, "But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand." 1 Chronicles 29:14
That's exactly how we feel. None of this is ours. We're just asking if you want to be part of it.
For the next four nights, you'll hear from us at 7:15pm MST / 9:15pm EST.
Each night you'll hear a little more about our ministry.
But you don't have to wait.
This year, a generous donor committed to match up to $25,000.
That means that if you donate $100 it’s actually $200. If you donate $500, it becomes $1,000.
If something in you already knows… don’t wait. Give tonight.
Credit card via Pushpay: https://pushpay.com/g/ordinarymissionaries
PayPal: [email protected]
Venmo: George-Sisneros
Zelle: [email protected]
Check: payable to Ordinary Missionaries
Sent to: Greg Dix,
6021 Wild View Drive,
Fort Collins, CO 80528
(Add "2026 fundraiser" in the memo and reply so we can add it to the total.)
Want to pledge for a later date or increase a monthly gift? Just reply to this email.
Don't forget. If you want to stay connected with our ministry work and get a free copy of my book "Do You Love Me?" Sign up HERE.
All our love,
George and Vonda
George Sisneros is a full-time missionary in Guatemala and the founder of Ordinary Missionaries and the El Rosario Christian Academy for Boys.
He’s been married to his wife, Vonda, for 27 years. He’s a father to nine children, five adopted.
In 2024, George and his wife expanded to Cuba, joining forces with nine pastors committed to transforming lives through the gospel.