Mission Field Now Stories | Jose

We have already introduced you to Mike Luna, one of the missionaries connected to the Lutheran Mission Society in San Diego. Mike’s ministry flows from a deep sense of God’s calling on his life and from the story God has been writing in him over many years. Shaped by grace and grounded in lived experience, Mike has intentionally devoted himself to reaching men who need Jesus—men who are broken, lost, searching for purpose, or simply carrying more weight than they know how to name.

Last year, Mike spent a full year leading a men’s group at Hope Lutheran Church. This year, his ministry has taken a new shape as he now serves men inside the prison system at the Donovan Correctional Facility, walking alongside Chaplain Art Stevens and bringing God’s Word into places often marked by isolation and despair. Whether in a church fellowship hall or behind prison walls, Mike’s calling remains the same: to meet men where they are and to point them to the peace and purpose found in Christ alone.

But today’s story does not come from the church or the prison. It comes from much closer to home.

The story we share today emerges from Mike’s own household. It is the story of Jose—Mike’s son-in-law-in-the-making, officially engaged to his daughter Karina, and the father of their newborn son, Mateo. And through Jose and Karina’s story, we are invited to confront a common misconception about mission: the belief that to be a missionary one must go overseas, travel long distances, or engage in something visibly radical outside the rhythms of everyday life.

Flowing from this first misconception is a second one just as subtle and just as dangerous—the idea that we can pursue mission somewhere “out there,” while overlooking what is right in front of us. We imagine that God’s most meaningful work happens elsewhere, in other places, with other people, while missing the people and places embedded in our own daily vocations. In doing so, we unintentionally bypass the very relationships God has already entrusted to us: the family members, coworkers, neighbors, and friends who share our ordinary days.

In Lutheran theology, we speak of sacred, common vocations—the places where God has already stationed us as husbands, wives, parents, children, neighbors, and friends. It is precisely in these ordinary spaces that God so often does His most profound work. Jose’s story reminds us that mission does not begin overseas, nor does it begin outside our daily callings. It begins at home, in the relationships and responsibilities God has placed directly in our hands.

Jose entered Mike’s life when he began dating Karina. From the very beginning, Mike noticed Jose’s character and his genuine care for Karina. He saw in him a respectful young man, someone with the potential to be a loving husband and a devoted father. Much of this was rooted in Jose’s background, coming from a Hispanic multicultural family where strong values, responsibility, and respect were deeply ingrained.

Yet Mike also noticed something else. The peace that comes from trusting Christ—the grace-centered life shaped by the Gospel—was something Jose had not yet encountered. And Mike’s desire was not simply to approve of Jose as a future son-in-law, but to bless him, Karina, and the generations that would follow with the same grace that had reached him, given him peace, and reoriented his life around Christ alone.

What mattered to Mike was not speed, but faithfulness. He did not rush the moment or force spiritual conversations. Instead, he began by cultivating a relationship of respect and care. He showed up. He spent time with Jose in ordinary ways—working on small projects, sharing meals, watching games, talking about work, marriage, responsibility, and the realities of being a man providing for a family. These were “man things,” simple and familiar, but sacred in their own way.

Mike listened more than he spoke. He affirmed what was good in Jose—his commitment, his love for Karina, his emerging identity as a father. This was not strategy; it was presence. And through this steady accompaniment, trust grew. Walls lowered. Conversations deepened. Questions surfaced naturally.

When Mike sensed an open door, he did something just as intentional as his silence had been: he extended an invitation to talk about God and share his faith. Jose accepted the invitation because Mike had earned it—not through authority, but through love. And when Mike spoke, he shared not abstractions, but his own story—his brokenness, his need, and the grace that had met him in Christ.

Jose leaned into those conversations. Karina was part of them as well—affirming, listening, and participating with a heart already open to what God was doing. What began as family conversations slowly became moments of quiet catechesis—faith shared at the kitchen table, in the living room, woven into everyday life.

As Jose continued to show openness and hunger for more, Mike recognized that the time had come to take a next step. With the same care that had marked the entire journey, Mike invited Jose to be catechized—to enter a more intentional and formal discipleship process. Not as pressure. Not as obligation. But as an invitation.

Catechesis is formation. It is learning the basics of God’s Word, discovering who God is, who we are, what Christ has done, and how the Gospel shapes daily life. Jose accepted the invitation, and Karina joyfully joined the process. Together, they began meeting regularly, opening Scripture, asking questions, and grounding themselves in the foundations of the Christian faith.

For this journey, Mike turned to the very same tool God had once used to shape him—the Small Catechism of Martin Luther. The words that had once given Mike clarity, peace, and purpose were now being passed on to the next generation. Faith received by grace was being shared by grace.

As the catechesis continued, Mike proposed another step: a shared daily devotional rhythm. Together, Mike, Jose, and Karina began reading Scripture, reflecting, exchanging messages, and praying for one another. These simple practices slowly shaped the household itself. Karina’s joy was evident. Jose continued walking forward, grounded more deeply in Christ. And little Mateo—though still too young to understand—was already being blessed by parents forming their lives around God’s Word.

This is where the story comes full circle.

Mike Luna continues to serve men in the church. He continues to bring God’s Word into the prison system. And yet, he has not overlooked the mission field closest to him. The same Gospel he proclaims in public spaces is the Gospel he lives and shares at home.

Jose and Karina’s story reminds us that mission is not only about where we go, but about how we live. It is one life, lived faithfully, attentive to the people God has already placed around us. Sometimes that mission takes us into churches and prisons. And sometimes it takes us into living rooms, around tables, into the quiet, faithful work of catechesis and daily prayer.

This, too, is mission. And it is holy ground.