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/
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