"Que rica!" That's how the girls at Casa Hogar described Siguatepeque when I told them all the interns were going there for the weekend. Literally translated "rica" means "rich." The girls meant that the city was beautiful and that we were going to have a lot of fun, but it was indeed a rich weekend for us. None of us anticipated how beautiful the YWAM base where we stayed would be; none of us expected to be so filled up physically, emotionally, spiritually; none of us could have imagined the peace we would feel in the beautiful city of Siguatepeque. A missionary family lives next to the base and run it--Carlos, Melissa, and their four boys (plus one girl on the way). In addition, there are three short-term missionaries living in the base that help Carlos and Melissa--Missie from Wisconsin, Ema from Argentina, and Roberto from Tegucigalpa. We arrived on Friday afternoon and just spent some time drinking coffee and talking. That night after dinner, Carlos taught a class on mobilizing the church. It was really interesting because one of the other interns and I had talked a lot about how that's such an issue in the States. Carlos also shared his testimony with us and it was absolutely incredible, so inspirational. We all slept well that night, exhausted from a hot, sickening bus ride through the mountains to Siguatepeque. The next morning we all spent some time alone with God before breakfast. I think several of the other interns are not used to spending time in silence with God, so it was really good for all of us. Then, coffee in hand, we plunged into almost 5 straight hours of classes. Missy taught us about aligning our dreams with God's dream, Roberto taught on the Great Commission, Melissa used the Old Testament to show us that God is and has been a missionary God, and Ema told lots and lots of stories that all related back to the Great Commission and Philippians 4:8. It was like trying to drink out of a water bottle during a monsoon. We spent the afternoon living what we had just learned about. We went to the local dump where several families live, and with the smell of trash twisting our faces into snarls and the hazy smoke burning our eyes, we passed out food and clothes to the people there. Another intern and I talked with a couple of the women--Clementina and Sara--and prayed for them in an English prayer that they couldn't understand. My hope is that Carlos and his YWAM crew will be able to return and build relationships with the people there. We spent the rest of the afternoon prayer walking around downtown Siguatepeque before returning to the base for supper and a movie, "End of the Spear." I had trouble sleeping that night because I had so much on my mind. In the silence of the night, I had a lot of realizations about what my life should look like and what the life of a missionary looks like. Our last morning was beautiful. We had a time of praise, just singing along with an acoustic guitar. It was such a simple time, our voices seeking only God and our hearts attempting to bring glory to Him alone. We took some time to share what we learned during our time there and the missionaries prayed over us. At that point, it was time to leave. I was sad to leave the peaceful, beautiful, "rica" city behind and begin my last week here. Hopefully all eight of us interns will be able to maintain the spirit of Siguatepeque and take the peace back to Casa Hogar and the children there.
Please pray that this week is as rich and peaceful for us and the children we are working with as our weekend in Siguatepeque was.
Pray that we would pour out everything we have in this last week and that God would change our hearts.
Pray for Clementina and Sara, that God would protect them and that they would come to know Him personally.
"The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him...I was young and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread." Psalm 37:23, 25
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Life in Honduras
"'Cause we're alive, alive, alive and we're singing. We're alive, alive, alive, alive in You." Sons & Daughters
Today, I am truly alive. God had to break me down and make me fully reliant on Him, but today it is worth it because I am truly alive.
I am staying, with the six other interns, at Casa Hogar, the children's home in San Buena Ventura that LAMB runs. Due to some financial issues, some of the tutors that live with the kids here (and that are like mothers and fathers to them) are leaving. So in this time of transition, we are here loving on and praying for the kids. A typical day for me starts early, around 6 or 6:30, when I wake up to the sound of children laughing and roosters making their ridiculous noises. We have our daily hour of running water so we can take showers, wash dishes, mop. Coffee is a must for the day that awaits me. At every turn, we have to think about the water we're using because running water here is NOT okay to drink. So everything we cook with or brush our teeth with has to come from a special supply of purified water. I'm not a fan of bottled water...but here it's unavoidable unless you're in the mood for some serious stomach issues. Around 7:30, we all go help in the cabins for an hour. Last week I was in the little boys' cabin tying shoes, making beds, and just occupying energetic little boys while their tutor cleaned. In a precious moment every morning, I walked with them up a hill to their schoolhouse. This week I've been with the big girls which is a very different experience. They can get ready by themselves but they do want to dance around with you and ask about your novio (boyfriend). They're all convinced that I should date Justin Bieber. After that, we spend our days doing different things. Some days we go to the market; other days we've just taken time to clean; sometimes we've done touristy things like visit the Cristo del Picacho statue; today we did construction with a team who's here from Atlanta. In the evenings we go back to the cabins to hang out with the kids and get them ready for bed. With my little boys last week, that meant running around and around until they were exhausted and then giving them baths and sending them to bed. With the girls, that has meant playing UNO and hanging out in the kitchen. All the interns meet back up at night to have a devotional time before we crash. Every day has had a new, unexpected surprise. I've discovered that public transportation is exhausting and that doing laundry by hand on a cement washboard is super fun. There have been days where I've had tortillas for breakfast, lunch, and dinnerThe past few days, that surprise has been frustrating conflict within our group. But today, we have moved past it, and I have seen God connect so many different things that I've been learning. And today I took everything to God in prayer, like in Philippians 4:6-7, and just experienced peace and joy. I sang my way through my work and felt refreshed at every turn. I am alive here in Honduras. Like the grass that stubbornly grows in the rocks, like the frogs that appear whenever it rains, like the children who live here that come from abuse and neglect yet still love unabashedly. I am alive.
I never thought I would fall so in love with such a crazy group of kids but my heart is just overflowing. Fernando with all his drama, Dulce and her amazing goalie skills, Noe who is the most adorable little boy ever but is always up to no good, Sergio and how he likes to tell me I am "crazy, fea, and simpático", Paola with her hilarious laugh and precious smile, Dilcia who clings to me, Angelito and his incessant smile...every single child has staked out a place in my heart. And when I ran out of love and strength and patience and perseverance, God started to love them through me, giving me His supernatural strength, patience, and enduring perseverance. This is why I am alive and singing.
Today, I am truly alive. God had to break me down and make me fully reliant on Him, but today it is worth it because I am truly alive.
I am staying, with the six other interns, at Casa Hogar, the children's home in San Buena Ventura that LAMB runs. Due to some financial issues, some of the tutors that live with the kids here (and that are like mothers and fathers to them) are leaving. So in this time of transition, we are here loving on and praying for the kids. A typical day for me starts early, around 6 or 6:30, when I wake up to the sound of children laughing and roosters making their ridiculous noises. We have our daily hour of running water so we can take showers, wash dishes, mop. Coffee is a must for the day that awaits me. At every turn, we have to think about the water we're using because running water here is NOT okay to drink. So everything we cook with or brush our teeth with has to come from a special supply of purified water. I'm not a fan of bottled water...but here it's unavoidable unless you're in the mood for some serious stomach issues. Around 7:30, we all go help in the cabins for an hour. Last week I was in the little boys' cabin tying shoes, making beds, and just occupying energetic little boys while their tutor cleaned. In a precious moment every morning, I walked with them up a hill to their schoolhouse. This week I've been with the big girls which is a very different experience. They can get ready by themselves but they do want to dance around with you and ask about your novio (boyfriend). They're all convinced that I should date Justin Bieber. After that, we spend our days doing different things. Some days we go to the market; other days we've just taken time to clean; sometimes we've done touristy things like visit the Cristo del Picacho statue; today we did construction with a team who's here from Atlanta. In the evenings we go back to the cabins to hang out with the kids and get them ready for bed. With my little boys last week, that meant running around and around until they were exhausted and then giving them baths and sending them to bed. With the girls, that has meant playing UNO and hanging out in the kitchen. All the interns meet back up at night to have a devotional time before we crash. Every day has had a new, unexpected surprise. I've discovered that public transportation is exhausting and that doing laundry by hand on a cement washboard is super fun. There have been days where I've had tortillas for breakfast, lunch, and dinnerThe past few days, that surprise has been frustrating conflict within our group. But today, we have moved past it, and I have seen God connect so many different things that I've been learning. And today I took everything to God in prayer, like in Philippians 4:6-7, and just experienced peace and joy. I sang my way through my work and felt refreshed at every turn. I am alive here in Honduras. Like the grass that stubbornly grows in the rocks, like the frogs that appear whenever it rains, like the children who live here that come from abuse and neglect yet still love unabashedly. I am alive.
I never thought I would fall so in love with such a crazy group of kids but my heart is just overflowing. Fernando with all his drama, Dulce and her amazing goalie skills, Noe who is the most adorable little boy ever but is always up to no good, Sergio and how he likes to tell me I am "crazy, fea, and simpático", Paola with her hilarious laugh and precious smile, Dilcia who clings to me, Angelito and his incessant smile...every single child has staked out a place in my heart. And when I ran out of love and strength and patience and perseverance, God started to love them through me, giving me His supernatural strength, patience, and enduring perseverance. This is why I am alive and singing.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
What Wikipedia Won't Tell You
Being the nerd that I am, I decided to do some research about Honduras before coming down here. And what is every nerd's best friend? That's right: Wikipedia! I learned all about el presidente and the climate and the history. Full of random facts, I got off my plane in Tegucigalpa feeling quite knowledgable and prepared. But there are always things Wikipedia won't tell you.
Wikipedia won't tell you that when you land in Tegus, you are literally 25 yards from Domino's and that you feel aa though you could very possibly crash land into the surrounding buildings. Wikipedia won't tell you that during the rainy season, the land is lush--grass (grama) grows out of the very rocks, cows (vacas) graze along the mountain roads, trees (arboles) hand heavy with fruit. Wikipedia won't tell you that the air is sweet with the smell of ripening fruit as you drive by jardines and orchards. Wikipedia won't tell you that crossing the streets is terrifying--it's life or death every time you do it. Wikipedia won't tell you that Honduran bathrooms typically don't have toilet paper so BRING YOUR OWN. Wikipedia won't tell you how precious water is or that there is an artform to taking bucket baths. Wikipedia won't tell you how beautiful the language is when los niños look into your eyes and speak ("Las americanas bonitas!" "Corra!" "GOOOOL!"). Wikipedia won't tell you how poetic it is to wake up at 5:30AM to the sound of children's laughter. Wikipedia will never tell you that God is HERE. His love is written in las montañas, la cascada, el cielo azul, las flores. His grace is painted in the faces of the loving tuturas and stand-in mothers at the Casa Hogar. His compassion is seeped in the lives of the these children. LAMB is a place for second chances and new beginnings just as the cross (la cruz) is. Wikipedia will not do justice to the beauty and ugliness, the peace and violence, the happiness and sadness, the very presence of God Almighty in this place. God called me here for the summer...in my weaknesses and my total inability to love these children as I should by my own strength, God is strong and will not fail.
Wikipedia won't tell you that when you land in Tegus, you are literally 25 yards from Domino's and that you feel aa though you could very possibly crash land into the surrounding buildings. Wikipedia won't tell you that during the rainy season, the land is lush--grass (grama) grows out of the very rocks, cows (vacas) graze along the mountain roads, trees (arboles) hand heavy with fruit. Wikipedia won't tell you that the air is sweet with the smell of ripening fruit as you drive by jardines and orchards. Wikipedia won't tell you that crossing the streets is terrifying--it's life or death every time you do it. Wikipedia won't tell you that Honduran bathrooms typically don't have toilet paper so BRING YOUR OWN. Wikipedia won't tell you how precious water is or that there is an artform to taking bucket baths. Wikipedia won't tell you how beautiful the language is when los niños look into your eyes and speak ("Las americanas bonitas!" "Corra!" "GOOOOL!"). Wikipedia won't tell you how poetic it is to wake up at 5:30AM to the sound of children's laughter. Wikipedia will never tell you that God is HERE. His love is written in las montañas, la cascada, el cielo azul, las flores. His grace is painted in the faces of the loving tuturas and stand-in mothers at the Casa Hogar. His compassion is seeped in the lives of the these children. LAMB is a place for second chances and new beginnings just as the cross (la cruz) is. Wikipedia will not do justice to the beauty and ugliness, the peace and violence, the happiness and sadness, the very presence of God Almighty in this place. God called me here for the summer...in my weaknesses and my total inability to love these children as I should by my own strength, God is strong and will not fail.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Falling Asleep On God's Couch
I was born with a deadly combination of genetics. First, I have a strange love of couches. I realized this after moving into a dorm room with no couch. Aside from my family, the things I truly missed most were all somehow related to the couch in my living room: watching sports with my dad, having a place to sit and read in comfort, taking Sunday afternoon naps. I began at once to seek out friends that possessed couches. Ok, not really...but I did begin spending a lot more time NOT in my room so I could enjoy the couches of others. A solution arrived during spring semester when my parents showed up with the best charcoal gray futon IKEA could offer. I fell immediately in love. Second, I was born with a superpower that is more of a curse than a blessing most times: I can fall asleep anywhere after 9 PM as long as I'm sitting down. I have missed the climaxes and resolutions of countless movies because of my superpower; I have failed to do some of my homework due to droopy eyelids and the inability to stay awake; I have fallen asleep in odd places as a result of the curse my father bestowed upon me.
A love of couches does not mix well with an inability to remain conscious after 9 PM. That's typically when I find time to study or watch movies or hang out with people and just talk. It's a predicament.
It can also put you in a slightly awkward position when you are a freshman in college making new friends while simultaneously lacking a couch. Luckily though, I discovered that I have to reach a certain level of trust with people before I doze off on their couch. Thank goodness my superpower has one Achilles' heel! Along with the realization came a new measurement for how much I trusted the people around me. It was great. And I love my friends who have allowed me to fall soundly asleep while watching movies and episodes of "The Office" with them...and then have promptly woken me up when it was over, sending me back to my own room.
I like to carry on conversations with God as I'm climbing into bed. We talk about all sorts of things because we can. And like many people, I frequently fall asleep while praying. My prayer for that evening just fades out, dangling like a misplaced preposition ("Where is that preposition at???") or an incomplete....... No "Amen." No "In Jesus's name I pray." Not even a "Goodnight, sleep tight." I think a lot of people feel guilty leaving God hanging like this. Maybe they equate it with hanging up on someone or closing the door in someone's face while they are mid-sentence. That would indeed be rude. Especially when done to the King of kings and Lord of lords. It's different for me, though.
A love of couches does not mix well with an inability to remain conscious after 9 PM. That's typically when I find time to study or watch movies or hang out with people and just talk. It's a predicament.
It can also put you in a slightly awkward position when you are a freshman in college making new friends while simultaneously lacking a couch. Luckily though, I discovered that I have to reach a certain level of trust with people before I doze off on their couch. Thank goodness my superpower has one Achilles' heel! Along with the realization came a new measurement for how much I trusted the people around me. It was great. And I love my friends who have allowed me to fall soundly asleep while watching movies and episodes of "The Office" with them...and then have promptly woken me up when it was over, sending me back to my own room.
I like to carry on conversations with God as I'm climbing into bed. We talk about all sorts of things because we can. And like many people, I frequently fall asleep while praying. My prayer for that evening just fades out, dangling like a misplaced preposition ("Where is that preposition at???") or an incomplete....... No "Amen." No "In Jesus's name I pray." Not even a "Goodnight, sleep tight." I think a lot of people feel guilty leaving God hanging like this. Maybe they equate it with hanging up on someone or closing the door in someone's face while they are mid-sentence. That would indeed be rude. Especially when done to the King of kings and Lord of lords. It's different for me, though.
For me...
It's like falling asleep on God's couch.
It's trusting that even though I neglected the proper farewell phrases, God will still be there in the morning when both my phone and the quiet sun remind me that there is still life to be lived.
It's knowing that the Almighty is going to protect me as I sleep, vulnerable and helpless.
I mean no disrespect by it. He knows I am human and He created me with this incapability to remain awake. It's just that as I sit on His couch and talk with Him, I cannot help but feel safe and secure, trusting Him with all that I am. And so, I fall asleep.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Do they have bacon in Honduras?
I am going to Honduras.
I've declared it before and I'll probably declare it all the way there, but for the first time, it feels official.
I didn't want to go to Honduras this summer initially. I desperately wanted to be a counselor at SummerSalt, my younger sister's favorite summer camp, where I would be teaching middle and high schoolers about what it looks like to follow Jesus passionately every day. In my mind, it was the perfect way to spend the summer after my freshman year. So I put hours into the application and fretted over my interview, which much to my distress was rescheduled at least three times. And then I got the letter. I knew as I held it in my hands that I wouldn't be working at SummerSalt this summer, and that realization brought me to my knees. I spent the weekend after receiving the letter at Converge, a weekend of worship for the BCMs of South Carolina, where I decided that no matter where God was calling me for the summer, I would say yes and go. It's not like me to put that much faith in anyone other than myself, but who better to have control over my life and to have my complete submission than God? I thought it would be an easy road from there, but it wasn't. I watched my friends find out about the summer missions they'd applied to, and I searched. I envied the ease with which they chose to go and I lay awake at night repeating my promise to God that sounded a lot like a Brett Younker song: "I'm saying yes to You, wherever you call me, whatever you lead me to." It is not easy to agree to an unknown calling. Some days I trusted God immensely and I found freedom in this new concept of allowing Him to call all the shots. Other days, I wanted to scream at my dad for asking me so many questions about the summer and I doubted that God even cared enough to guide me in the right direction.
But God put unexpected clues in my life. I found myself admitting to my adviser what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life instead of giving her the "acceptable" answer. She directed me to several Hispanic ministries both here and abroad. As soon as she said the word "Honduras", though, I was sold. I knew that I wanted to go there. I prayed about it and finally found the time to send in my application. Without even hearing from anyone at the organization in Honduras, I also applied for a summer stipend that would assist with the costs...and I got it. Can you believe the College of Charleston is paying for my mission trip to Honduras? It's beautiful.
I didn't realize then, though, that I was just beginning the fight to get to Honduras. I had applied online with the LAMB Institute to spend part of my summer in Tegucigalpa, Honduras; I had secured a stipend to help cover the costs of airfare and other expenses; I had begun to tell people that's where I was going this summer because I felt so strongly called there. But I didn't hear back from LAMB. I waited and waited, reminding God of my promise to go wherever He was calling me. I finally emailed the volunteer coordinator and discovered that LAMB was actually creating an internship for people interested in mission work as a potential career to participate in during the summer. The more she told me about it, the more I fell in love. I felt like everything was falling into place. This was the perfect opportunity for me. But again, I met silence and was forced to be patient...these things take time, right? I wanted confirmation that I was going to Honduras this summer for a specific amount of time doing specific things there. I longed for details. Apparently, though, details and missions don't go hand in hand. I got commissioned at River Church alongside all my friends who were doing BCM missions this summer. But as I stood up in front of the congregation and declared that I was going to Honduras this summer, part of me wanted to cry because I still didn't feel certain that I was going. I think I did cry when a lady from Roatán, Honduras in the congregation prayed over me. To me, faith looks a whole lot like getting up and telling a hundred people you are going somewhere when the only real confirmation you have is that God makes you feel really excited whenever someone says, "Honduras." That faith was not from me that morning. It belonged completely to God and He had just loaned it out to me for the time being.
I finally got to meet with the volunteer coordinator to talk about the internship. All the interns would apparently be living together in a house where all the cooking and cleaning would be their responsibility. We would be working with LAMB's children home and at-risk youth project. We would be digging deeper into the life of missionaries with the lady who had started the entire ministry in Honduras--a missionary from Charleston named Suzy. Sitting in Starbucks that day with the volunteer coordinator, I wanted to throw down my coffee and immediately book my flights so I could GO. She advised me to pray about how long I should come and talk to my parents about the whole thing. I prayed. Oh man, God and I have never had that much constant conversation before. It was great. After a lot of prayer and thought, I felt like three weeks would be the perfect amount of time for me. I longed to go for the longer term of six weeks, but I realized that desire was selfish. There were other things for me to do this summer. I told the volunteer coordinator my decision and waited for more information.
None came.
I waited longer, feeling summer's breath at the back of my neck as finals came and went and I still hadn't heard anything. Back at home, I finally emailed her, trying to keep the impatience from screaming out behind every word of my brief email. She was shocked to hear I had never received the email she'd sent weeks ago. At that point, I didn't have a lot faith...I sill felt so insecure about it. But the next day, she sent me an email with everything I needed to know about my trip to Honduras in it. I was ecstatic. There was the security I felt I needed. It was real to me finally. I booked flights, I filled out forms, I got travel insurance and found my passport, I began reading the list of books all the interns were told to read as part of our discovering what it looks like to be a missionary.
So I've been reading, gathering clothes to pack, and praying for God to prepare my heart. I've been asking questions about Honduras: Is the coffee good there? Do they eat bacon there? What is it like to live there? Are the mosquitoes bad? Will I be able to blog while I'm there? Will I absolutely love it there? I still don't feel completely secure because I am human and I have very little faith in the Creator of the universe most of the time. But I have already learned that being a missionary means that you say yes to God's calling no matter what, that you have to step out on faith even when you really don't have any, that you have to fight all opposing forces to answer God's call, that you have to trust in God when it's all coming together and when it's all coming apart, and that you pray...a lot. I've never had my faith tested quite this much before.
Whether or not there is bacon there, I am going to Honduras on June 13th for three weeks. I don't pretend to fully know or understand God's will for my life, but I still wake up every morning and say, "Yes." Honduras, here I come.
http://www.lambinstitute.org/
I've declared it before and I'll probably declare it all the way there, but for the first time, it feels official.
I didn't want to go to Honduras this summer initially. I desperately wanted to be a counselor at SummerSalt, my younger sister's favorite summer camp, where I would be teaching middle and high schoolers about what it looks like to follow Jesus passionately every day. In my mind, it was the perfect way to spend the summer after my freshman year. So I put hours into the application and fretted over my interview, which much to my distress was rescheduled at least three times. And then I got the letter. I knew as I held it in my hands that I wouldn't be working at SummerSalt this summer, and that realization brought me to my knees. I spent the weekend after receiving the letter at Converge, a weekend of worship for the BCMs of South Carolina, where I decided that no matter where God was calling me for the summer, I would say yes and go. It's not like me to put that much faith in anyone other than myself, but who better to have control over my life and to have my complete submission than God? I thought it would be an easy road from there, but it wasn't. I watched my friends find out about the summer missions they'd applied to, and I searched. I envied the ease with which they chose to go and I lay awake at night repeating my promise to God that sounded a lot like a Brett Younker song: "I'm saying yes to You, wherever you call me, whatever you lead me to." It is not easy to agree to an unknown calling. Some days I trusted God immensely and I found freedom in this new concept of allowing Him to call all the shots. Other days, I wanted to scream at my dad for asking me so many questions about the summer and I doubted that God even cared enough to guide me in the right direction.
But God put unexpected clues in my life. I found myself admitting to my adviser what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life instead of giving her the "acceptable" answer. She directed me to several Hispanic ministries both here and abroad. As soon as she said the word "Honduras", though, I was sold. I knew that I wanted to go there. I prayed about it and finally found the time to send in my application. Without even hearing from anyone at the organization in Honduras, I also applied for a summer stipend that would assist with the costs...and I got it. Can you believe the College of Charleston is paying for my mission trip to Honduras? It's beautiful.
I didn't realize then, though, that I was just beginning the fight to get to Honduras. I had applied online with the LAMB Institute to spend part of my summer in Tegucigalpa, Honduras; I had secured a stipend to help cover the costs of airfare and other expenses; I had begun to tell people that's where I was going this summer because I felt so strongly called there. But I didn't hear back from LAMB. I waited and waited, reminding God of my promise to go wherever He was calling me. I finally emailed the volunteer coordinator and discovered that LAMB was actually creating an internship for people interested in mission work as a potential career to participate in during the summer. The more she told me about it, the more I fell in love. I felt like everything was falling into place. This was the perfect opportunity for me. But again, I met silence and was forced to be patient...these things take time, right? I wanted confirmation that I was going to Honduras this summer for a specific amount of time doing specific things there. I longed for details. Apparently, though, details and missions don't go hand in hand. I got commissioned at River Church alongside all my friends who were doing BCM missions this summer. But as I stood up in front of the congregation and declared that I was going to Honduras this summer, part of me wanted to cry because I still didn't feel certain that I was going. I think I did cry when a lady from Roatán, Honduras in the congregation prayed over me. To me, faith looks a whole lot like getting up and telling a hundred people you are going somewhere when the only real confirmation you have is that God makes you feel really excited whenever someone says, "Honduras." That faith was not from me that morning. It belonged completely to God and He had just loaned it out to me for the time being.
I finally got to meet with the volunteer coordinator to talk about the internship. All the interns would apparently be living together in a house where all the cooking and cleaning would be their responsibility. We would be working with LAMB's children home and at-risk youth project. We would be digging deeper into the life of missionaries with the lady who had started the entire ministry in Honduras--a missionary from Charleston named Suzy. Sitting in Starbucks that day with the volunteer coordinator, I wanted to throw down my coffee and immediately book my flights so I could GO. She advised me to pray about how long I should come and talk to my parents about the whole thing. I prayed. Oh man, God and I have never had that much constant conversation before. It was great. After a lot of prayer and thought, I felt like three weeks would be the perfect amount of time for me. I longed to go for the longer term of six weeks, but I realized that desire was selfish. There were other things for me to do this summer. I told the volunteer coordinator my decision and waited for more information.
None came.
I waited longer, feeling summer's breath at the back of my neck as finals came and went and I still hadn't heard anything. Back at home, I finally emailed her, trying to keep the impatience from screaming out behind every word of my brief email. She was shocked to hear I had never received the email she'd sent weeks ago. At that point, I didn't have a lot faith...I sill felt so insecure about it. But the next day, she sent me an email with everything I needed to know about my trip to Honduras in it. I was ecstatic. There was the security I felt I needed. It was real to me finally. I booked flights, I filled out forms, I got travel insurance and found my passport, I began reading the list of books all the interns were told to read as part of our discovering what it looks like to be a missionary.
So I've been reading, gathering clothes to pack, and praying for God to prepare my heart. I've been asking questions about Honduras: Is the coffee good there? Do they eat bacon there? What is it like to live there? Are the mosquitoes bad? Will I be able to blog while I'm there? Will I absolutely love it there? I still don't feel completely secure because I am human and I have very little faith in the Creator of the universe most of the time. But I have already learned that being a missionary means that you say yes to God's calling no matter what, that you have to step out on faith even when you really don't have any, that you have to fight all opposing forces to answer God's call, that you have to trust in God when it's all coming together and when it's all coming apart, and that you pray...a lot. I've never had my faith tested quite this much before.
Whether or not there is bacon there, I am going to Honduras on June 13th for three weeks. I don't pretend to fully know or understand God's will for my life, but I still wake up every morning and say, "Yes." Honduras, here I come.
http://www.lambinstitute.org/
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)