Excerpts of Dr. Gibson's Teaching Mission To Costa Rica

September 15, 2001

“Es el ultimo.” Do you recognize those words as an astonishing answer to your prayers? They mean, “He’s the last one.” They were spoken by a rushed Continental Airlines agent to the agent who was checking me in at San Jose, Costa Rica airport for my return home. He was pointing at me!

What’s the miracle in that? Just that Continental told me last night, Friday, September 14, 2001, there would be no flights to the USA Saturday. At intervals all last night I called for updates. No answers. At 6 am my call was answered. The man told me that my 7:30 am flight would leave as scheduled. They were resuming normal operations by taking first people like me who had tickets, before they took any of the people backed up since Tuesday, Sptember 11. No shower. No shave. Quick packing. Breakfast in the car as José António drove me the one hour from his home to the airport. Made it! “Es el ultimo.” I found Row 19 empty. I slid into seat 19F by the window, and sobbed. The plane would leave! I was going home!

The plane sped forward down the runway. The wheels lifted off the ground and I sobbed again. I was leaving a prison. Yes, it was my beloved Costa Rica, but it had been holding me back from my bleeding homeland. Now we were airborne. When next we touched ground it would be in the USA. “Hang on, America. I’m coming!”

An hour later we were over Nicaragua. I thought my tears were over. I had cried to myself enough of a Goodbye and Thank You to Costa Rica--peaceful, friendly, luxuriant green Costa Rica. Thank you to my students at Seminario ESEPA. We had shared moments of awe in the classroom as we discovered connections between counseling topics and the heart of God. Those were the kind of moments that I cross oceans to have.

8:39 am. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with customs declaration forms. She asks me, “Are you a US citizen?” I answer, “Yes, ma’am.” She gives me my form and moves on. I burst into tears again. “Yes, ma’am?” That’s not the answer! “Am I a US citizen?” “You bet your life I am, lady!”

10:41 am over the Gulf of Mexico. This crying surprises me. Am I going to cry again when we touch down in Houston? Probably not. I have cried enough for my battered homeland. Now it is strictly a matter of rebuilding. Just work to do.

12:27 pm our wheels touch US soil in Houston. No, I do not cry--I smile. And my lips purse in a kiss as the wheels touch. From the air minutes ago things on the ground looked the way they ought to look. Roads straight. Corners at right angles. Fields square. Now these people know how to build a country!

12:46 pm. The grim uniformed Customs officer with the pistol on his hip looks over my passport. He asks, “Are you Mr. Gibson?” I answer, “Yes, sir.” He stamps the passport, hands it to me, smiles and says, “Welcome home, Mr. Gibson. We’ve missed you.” My sobbing bursts forth again. The family is back together!

Dennis Gibson

September 11, 2001

Professors don't cry. But today one did-right there in class. During the 9 am break, my counseling class watched on TV as my country burned under enemy attack. I returned to the class saying that I was disabled with rage. I said I wanted to find some terrorist to rip and kill with my bare hands. I said I didn't care what God thought about this rage on my part.

So, here they had in their midst a Christian professor, who wanted nothing to do with anything Christian. I wanted only to fantasize about taking matters into my own hands with murderous anger. I suggested that the class members take turns using on me, as a distressed client, the helping skills I had been teaching them.

One asked me a Vision Question that I had taught: "What would be for you a feeling inside you most opposite of this rage?" I had to work at the answer. As I did, a picture came into my mind. This was the one repeated over and over on TV, showing the second plane in slow motion tearing into the building. Suddenly it felt to me as if it was my mother being stabbed. My mother country. Yes, something dear to me. I was overwhelmed with sorrow. The terrorists did not matter. My mother's, my country's bleeding side - that was all that mattered. As I told this aloud to the class I sobbed.

Maybe it's a miracle when a professor cries. None of the students had seen it before. They were deeply touched. They have told me that they think I act a lot like Jesus would to them, with my gentle, vulnerable, friendly manner toward them. Well, I hope so. I want to.

And the shortest verse in the Bible helped me today: "Jesus wept."

As I say, your praying where you are makes unusual things happen where I am.

Dennis Gibson

September 7, 2001

I've seen the look before. One student in my course on counseling is not taking notes like the others. Instead, he is looking intently at me, as if drinking something into his own soul. This is as I am giving a tender example of a pastor and his wife reconciling as a result of the effective use of the Vitality Therapy method I am teaching.

I won't be surprised if he seeks me out before our two-week course ends next Friday. I won't be surprised if he talks to me about heartache in his own marriage. It happens in every course I teach. Many persons who take counseling courses take them because they have personal hungers to which they hope to find answers.

Please pray for this man. Pray that a lovely opportunity will supernaturally arise in which a conversation can occur between us. It will be a rushed one, not more than ten minutes, during one of our two breaks in the class sessions that run from 7:30 am to 12:30 pm, Monday through Friday, for two weeks at ESEPA Seminary, San Jose, Costa Rica. Pray that prior to that conversation words will come to me during my teaching that will fit exactly into the need that this man has.

My work here is marvelously strategic. I have twelve students who are leaders of leaders in a country with a population less than that of Greater Chicago. I am equipping these dedicated people with skills and inspiration to resolve spiritual, emotional and interpersonal roadblocks in their own lives and the lives they influence. And not just remove roadblocks, but arouse vision and passion toward living in that state of mind that I call "vitality" and that Jesus referred to as "blessed." It means a high level of joyful energy in a felt solidarity with God and people, regardless of outward circumstances.

I am gone from home doing work like this on the average of two to four weeks every other month. I would also like when I am home to spend time at language learning and at writing my latest book in the Vitality Therapy series, entitled "What To Say When." It already exists through Chapter 2, in English and Spanish, along with my earlier Vitality Therapy work, free for download on this web site.

Tell interested people all over the world about the availability of this concise material. It is a five-step process for counseling individuals, couples or families, with any kind of problem, in any culture in the world. It is readily learned by non-professional Christian counselors. It is my life's finest work.

Dennis Gibson

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