August 20: Closing reflections from me to you on our trip

Words are not enough. They will never be able to do justice to all the emotions I experienced this summer as I spent two months in Nicaragua. Nicaragua is a country that I have heard of for as long as I can remember. As I grew up, my bedroom shelves became cluttered with wooden knick-knacks from the country, and plans for the next trip to Nicaragua were always in the air. Though I didn’t understand where Nicaragua was (for some time I equated Nicaragua with the state of New Mexico and thought it was just a day’s drive from Kansas), or why my grandparents continued to vacation there, it was always part of my life.

When I was 10 years old, I traveled to Nicaragua for the first time to help build a church; it was then that I realized Nicaragua was a little different than New Mexico. Seven years later I visited again. On that trip, I decided that I liked Nicaragua, but building the churches there was my grandpa’s mission, not mine. Of course, I would always be part of the work going on in Nicaragua, because it was a ‘family thing,’ but I wanted to do something different with my life. Remembering these feelings makes me laugh now, because God works in interesting ways. I just returned from a summer spent in Nicaragua, and I am now very attached to this ‘mission’ that I thought was only my grandfather’s calling in life.

This summer took me on a roller coaster of emotions that was comparable to the ups and downs and potholes we faced on the roads as we traveled through the mountains. The height of this roller coaster was Joy. Joy is one of my favorite emotions and I felt it to the extreme on a few occasions. There was one day in particular that comes to mind. We spent seven hours traveling through the mountains on roads so bad that we were the only vehicle attempting to maneuver them. We had already stopped and visited one church that day and had one more to go: the church at Los Limones. I was exhausted, sweaty, and didn’t feel prepared to speak to another church and hold more interviews with the congregation members While in the car on the last leg of the journey, Amber, my friend who traveled with me all summer, opened her Bible and read Isaiah 42 to me. That passage reminded me of how good and awesome God is. The Lord strengthened me in that time and gave me a renewed passion for my work at the precise moment I needed it. I realized that there was no way I would be able to make it through the next six weeks on my own strength; God would have to be my sole Source. The work I was doing was not about me and the way I was feeling, it was about what God had done in the churches we were visiting and giving Him the glory for that.

We finally arrived at the church and there was a group of people awaiting our arrival. The second we stepped out of the car, we were surrounded by people who wanted to greet us with hugs and kisses, as if we had known each other forever. Amber and I were pulled around to the back of the church by a group of children. When I got my first glance of the view that stretched out from behind the church, I stopped dead in my tracks. As we traveled up the mountain to the church, trees blocked my view of the surrounding hillside, but now, I could only stare in amazement at this beautiful creation. A valley opened up in front of us which rose into several mountain peaks crowned with thunder clouds. The sun had just fallen behind the peaks which sent a pink glow that highlighted the landscape. I felt as if God was giving us this once-in-a-lifetime viewing opportunity and I had the pleasure of enjoying it with a dozen beautiful children at my side.

After laughing and taking pictures with our new friends, we were called in for the church service. We walked in and found our seats as the mariachi praise music started. I could only understand a few words, but that was not important. The passion and love the congregation had for the Lord radiated and filled the entire building, a holy presence of the Lord was in that church, so great tears filled my eyes. I realized that God is not confined to a language or culture barrier; our hearts were praising the same God in that moment and language wasn’t a factor. My heart was pierced, my throat was knotted, my stomach was bubbling over, and my soul praised the Lord. That was joy.

We always have something to be joyous about, because we have a great Savior, but I didn’t always feel that joy. If I could describe the low point of my emotional roller coaster, it would be sorrow. There was no escaping the poverty or the needs of the people within the country. At every church, we would hear stories of struggles. The needs were great, ranging from parsonages to teaching material, from building repairs to pastoral aide. The members of the congregations have the desire to help their church financially, but most of the time, they barely have enough money to be able to feed their own families. I was deeply saddened by the injustice, by the great materialism and abundance I see everyday in the United States compared to the great financial needs that were inescapable in Nicaragua.

There is one woman that I remember vividly; she was the life of the church. She was mesmerizing to watch as her body language would tell her stories as much as her words. People would listen to her and rolling laughter followed most of her stories. Her name is Genara. She didn’t know how old she was and she never learned how to read or write. Her husband left her shortly after she had the youngest of her 19 children. They were evicted from their home during the war. She, alone, had to work to support her family and she spent many hours everyday doing physical labor to be able to feed her children. Eleven of her children died from different illnesses, because there was no opportunity to get medical attention. As she told her story, my stomach turned with acid; I was distraught by her suffering. I have never experienced pain close to what Genara has been through. And still, she serves the church with all she has and is determined to see it grow. Her passion and strength are not from this world. Almost every weekend as Amber and I traveled to different churches, we would have stories like this to tell. I wish I could tell you all of them, of how great our God truly is and how I saw Him work every church.

We visited 29 A.C.I.B.E.N. churches in seven weeks and I had the opportunity to sit down and talk with the pastor and the founders of each church. They opened their lives to me and shared their testimonies. They have suffered beyond what I can imagine, and they know what trials are. Nevertheless, they continue to focus on what is unseen, stand firm in their faith, find their joy in God’s promises, and sacrifice for the Labor of the Lord.