Jose Adolfo Flores

Jose Adolfo Diaz Flores — “Xofo” He was the twelfth of fourteen children, born in Guatemala and named after his father — a man who prayed for years that God would raise up a pastor or missionary from his family. Xofo was the answer to that prayer, and his father’s pride and joy. In 1999 he left for Argentina, and it captured his heart. South America never let him go, and neither did his mate glass — it went everywhere he did. You always knew when he walked into a room. Arms open, a hug for every person, a laugh you couldn’t help but join. He wanted everyone to know the joy he’d found. Life with him was one step at a time, however God led. Ask him about details he didn’t have yet and he’d smile and say, “Let’s pray!” Ask him a hard question and he’d send you to a scripture — chapter and verse, right off the top of his head. He planted churches, gathered ministers, poured into young people at camps around the world, and built a discipleship school so students could carry the gospel back to their own countries. He believed the best in people, especially the overlooked, and called them into steps of faith they’d never have taken alone. He loved worship. It brought him back to Jesus in every trial. He loved making disciples, and he loved making homemade pizza for the people he loved. He was a father to many and a rock to us all. We followed him as he followed Christ — and he never once pointed to himself. It was always about Jesus and having faith in God. “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” — 1 Corinthians 11:1

To the world he was Jose Adolfo Diaz Flores. To all of us, he was simply Xofo — and that name meant family. He was born in Guatemala, the twelfth of fourteen children, and named after his father. For years his father prayed a specific prayer: that God would raise up one pastor, one missionary, from among his children. Xofo was the answer to that prayer — and his father’s pride and joy. In 1999 he left for the first time, for Argentina, and it captured his heart. South America never let go of him after that, and his mate glass never left his side. You always knew when he arrived. He came in with enthusiasm, arms open, a hug for every single person, and within seconds there was something to laugh about. His laugh was contagious, and he wanted everyone inside the joy he’d found. Life with Xofo was never mapped out. It was one step at a time, however God led, wherever God took us. If you asked him about details he didn’t have yet, he’d smile and say, “Let’s pray!” And in every hard conversation he’d stop and send you to a scripture — chapter and verse, right off the top of his head — because he wanted you to hear it from God’s Word instead of from him. He was a missionary who obeyed. He went where he was sent, planting churches when God prompted it, ministering to congregations and families around the world, and gathering ministers together who never would have met otherwise. He built camps where churches came together for weekends devoted to God and to their young people. He started a discipleship school so students from many nations could go deeper in their faith and carry the gospel back home. He didn’t just make disciples — he sent them out. He believed the best in people, especially the ones everyone else overlooked. He’d see something in you that you couldn’t see yet, call you closer to Jesus, and encourage you into a step of faith you’d never have taken without him standing there believing you could. He loved worship. In any trial, any struggle, it brought him straight back to what mattered most: Jesus. He loved the church, he loved the nations, he loved authentic food from every place he traveled — and he loved making homemade pizza for the people he loved. Losing him is like losing a father: the one who was always there, always steady, always the reason we all ended up in the same room together. It’s a heartache we don’t have words for. But he spent his whole life making sure our eyes were never on him. His father prayed for one missionary in the family. God gave him a son who went to the nations — and that son went on to send out many more. He never asked us to follow him. He asked us to follow Jesus. That is how we go on — one step at a time, however God leads, eyes fixed on Jesus. “Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith.” — Hebrews 12:2