"The Man with the Blue Eyes"

Here's a brief update on things:

Vicky 

Let me introduce you to Vicky. She walks me and Emily to the bus every day. She is our protector 😉. She brought this dress specifically for a picture with us 💗.

Amoeba Amigas

Emily and I were both sick for a couple days last week. We ate a lot of granola and Pedialyte and are much better! The doctor diagnosed us with amoebas. 

The Team

A fantastic team from Nebraska has now joined us for a week. We love them! They are awesome. We joined them at the daycare for a Bible story and piñata fun! 

The Daycare

Emily and I have been working at the daycare center all week. The students that attend range from ages 2-15. It is a daycare center because they don't have any specific instruction that occurs there. Some students go to school somewhere for part of the day and then stay at the center the rest of the day. Many parents are in bad situations like abusive relationships, alcoholism, or prostitution. They pay $3 a month for their students to attend the center. The kids flock to us and crave our hugs and love.

Casa de Caleb

Monday we went with the team to a nursing home called Casa de Caleb. I had an awesome experience with a patient there. Here is my story of "The Man with the Blue Eyes." 

The Guatemalan sun was hot and bright as we stepped out of the van, a little car sick from the twisting curves and intoxicating scent of the thick exhaust. 

We were all quiet as we walked into the dark room. The smell of urine was strong. The room was lined with elderly men and women in their wheel chairs, their faces dark complected and a bit solemn. 

It's strange how God can erase physical boundaries when you are meeting people with the prime purpose of showing them His love. Hugging these strangers and holding their hands came naturally as I communicated with them through my broken Spanish. 

I sat down next to a woman and had just finished basic conversational topics when a nurse wheeled a man up beside me. I noticed that his skin was much lighter than the other patients'. As he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes shocked me. Light blue. Something about his eyes were so familiar and gentle to me. He looked like my dad. As I looked into his eyes, I felt like I was looking at my dad again. 

I started speaking to him in Spanish, and he was only able to return small indistinguishable mumbles. After a few minutes of struggling to hear him, I realized that he was speaking to me in English! I was overjoyed! 

What was this light-skinned, blue-eyed, English-speaking man doing in a nursing home in Guatemala?

All of a sudden he stopped talking to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile came across his face. I noticed that he was looking past me into the lobby. A young Guatemalan girl was standing in the lobby looking at him. I thought he would jump out of his chair with excitement! I motioned for her to come in. She walked in and gave him a big hug; his smile widened. 

I asked her if he was her grandfather, and she explained that he was her dad. She was so excited that I was there talking to him. She only spoke Spanish, but her ears were perfectly attuned to understand her father's jumbled whispers. 

We sat in a little circle together. I spoke to her dad in English; he mustered up a whispered response to her in Spanish, and she delivered his response to me in Spanish. We sat there in beautiful connectedness as our conversation flowed through the three of us for almost an hour. 

During this time, I learned the story if his life:

-He was born in Italy.

-When he was twenty he moved to Louisiana and played football for LSU while he studied dentistry. 

-When he was twenty-four he joined the Marines and travelled to many different countries. He lived in Panama for a while and eventually Guatemala. 

-He is now 76.

-His daughter that was visiting is 14 and is the youngest of 14 children that live in several countries including the U.S. and Canada.

He mention where everyone lived a few times during the conversation. Each time this happened, his eyes tinted pink and welled up with tears. His low whisper became shaky as he mumbled, "And I am here alone." It was clear that this statement bothered his young daughter, but she remained strong and stroked his hand. 

Near the end of our time together, he looked at me with his eyes full of purpose, determined to convey something. 

Very clearly I heard, "Romans 8:28." At this, I pulled out my Bible and read it for us: "All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose."

He explained that he had been raised Catholic and came to know Jesus personally when he visited a Protestant church when he was 24. After this, he started reading the Bible and completed reading it entirely in three months. 

As I got up to leave, he clenched my hand and his eyes filled with tears again as he whispered "I love you" several times.

I left the nursing home full. 

All I could see was his eyes. His eyes set him apart from everyone else. His eyes communicated for him. His eyes connected me to him. 

I thought about a song by Matthew West:

Give me your eyes for just one second.

Give me your eyes so I can see

Everything that I've been missing.

Give me your eyes for humanity. 

God did not just give me this man's eyes. He was giving me His own eyes. God was giving me a little glimpse through His lenses- His eyes that see far better than mine. They see brokenness, frustration, heartache, love, worth. They see reality. In that time, God gave me a little bit if His heart for humanity. 

Romans 8:28

Throughout this past week, Emily and I have had to make some big decisions together. We were asked to move to an indigenous community to live for a week. We went back and forth about going. We couldn't feel a conviction in either direction. Based on our uneasiness and how difficult it was to make a decision, we decided not to go. It was so hard and stressful. We prayed and wrestled with the decision for three days. It was exhausting. 

Unfortunately, declining this opportunity caused a lot of conflict. 

We made this decision Monday morning. The man in the nursing home shared Romans 8:28 with me around lunch. Not knowing about the man from the nursing home, a woman shared Romans 8:28 with me again that afternoon. That night, Emily's mom shared that same verse with her.

It became clear to us that although we had not felt God in our decision-making process, He was clearly sending us a message of comfort and peace- encouraging us to continue seeking Him. 

We have been called according to His purpose. We are not promised that all things will be good through our own eyes. We are promised that He will work them together for good through His perfect, unchanging, grace-filled perspective. 

I Have Seen the Mountains

As I flew into Guatemala City, I clung to the window, thirsty for what was beneath me on the other side. The clouds billowed toward the plane, revealing what stood below them. I gasped. Mountains. Mountains like I had never seen before. I was awestruck. I felt something well up from deep inside my stomach as I gazed at the handiwork of my Creator. How powerful. And who am I that He would care for me?

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?"(Psalm 8:3-4 NIV)

I thought about the size and majesty of the mountains throughout the day. I thought about how incredible it would be to see a volcano or historic ruins. 

Tonight, as I sit here processing the past week and my first day in Guatemala, God is bringing some things into focus for me.

First of all, about my day: I am serving alongside a lovely, vivacious girl from New York named Emily. Her genuine love for people flows from her and touches everyone she's around. She is so open and welcoming to the people she meets. People are instantly softened and comforted by her presence as she takes time to hug on them and listen to them. 

We are staying at a seminary school that is currently only in use by a pastor and his family, who are functioning as our hosts. There are some extended family and a few children here, as well. The pastor is the only person that speaks a little English, so we all have perfect opportunities for sharing our languages each other. The whole family is beautiful. The children are so kind and curious and loving. 

All of the experiences and thoughts of the day came together at dinner tonight when our host asked me to pray before we ate. I was so honored. As we bowed our heads with one another, it all hit me.

Different backgrounds, different languages, different colors, different foods, different ways of life... All connected by one single commonality: Our Savior- Weaving our lives together and working in us and through us. To meet my brothers and sisters at this place was truly one of the greatest honors I have ever had.

It was then that I realized...

If I can sit down to a modest meal made with love and hospitality, at a table where not just cultures and foods are shared but where the love of brothers and sisters in Christ converge,

I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see the brokenness in this place,

I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see the reality and struggle and pain in this place,

I have seen the mountains. 

If I meet people whose lives and actions are devoted to Jesus,

I have seen the mountains. 

If the chains wrapping me in my own selfishness are broken,

I have seen the mountains. 

If I can love openly and embrace people that I don't even know and they become family,

I have seen the mountains. 

If I can see people understood through hugs and smiles and laughter rather than words,

I have seen the mountains. 

And if I have seen the mountains, I have seen Our Creator.

Thanks for the continued prayers and love, guys!

I send you so much love! 

Just An Explorer

Matagalpa Happenings 

I arrived in Matagalpa Friday and spent the weekend catching up with some of the awesome people working here. We went to Selva Negra and hiked in the rainforest for a few enchanting hours. It was so lush and gorgeous, despite the lack of rainfall in the surrounding areas. 

Today I filled in for the teaching assistant for the Kindergarten class. They kids were so cute and gracious and energetic. At the end of the day I joined the 9th graders for some conversational English. It is really cool to see how much they have progressed over the past couple of years. They have become so mature and disciplined... And I wish my Spanish was as good as their English. 

Tonight we went to a local ice cream shop that a couple from California opened this year. They created the shop to earn revenue for a greatly needed boys home here in Matagalapa. And the ice cream was AMAZING, so we were happy to help their cause. 

Just an Explorer

As I was traveling Friday and as I have been spending time with the missionaries here this weekend, I have been pondering the real purpose of "missions." When doing missions (or whenever you go to another country for any reason other than shopping or sunbathing, really) you usually get a few comments from people:

"You are just so adventurous."

"You are going to have so much fun."

"You are doing such a great thing."

"You are so kind to help others and see how blessed you really are."

Over the past few years, as God has laid missions on my heart more heavily, I have wondered why these comments are generally unsettling to me. When people share them with me I am aware of the intentions and know that people are genuinely extending love and encouragement, but I am left questioning.... 

"Is that really what 'missions' is about?"

If it is all about what I can do and experience, then doesn't that make missions all about ME?

"I like adventure."

"I like to travel."

"I like new cultures."

"I can help you because I am blessed."

I now understand why all of those statements make me uneasy. The entire basis of them is contrary to the gospel. The gospel says that it is not about me. I am just as broken as everyone else. 

Therefore, if the Bible tells me that my good works are like filthy rags, then missions can simply not be about me. It cannot be about the greatness that I am going to do for people.

As I was on the plane to Nicaragua Friday I noticed that my Coke said, "Share a Coke with an Explorer." This made me realize something about the nature of missions. Any kind of "mission" that we take to share the gospel of Jesus Christ will force us out of our comfort zones (If you have experienced those "Lord, I will talk about You with this person as soon as you slow my heart rate down and take away my urge to throw up" moments, then you know what I mean). 

As we are pulled out of our comfort zones, we are not adventurers or charity-givers, or good people. We are explorers.

 

But we are not explorers in the sense of discovering the riches of a new land and culture, which can happen along the way. Instead, we are explores in a much deeper sense. 

We become explorers of our own brokenness and poverty. Explorers of a poverty that traverses all of humanity- including ourselves. 

Seth Barnes writes,

"We may begin our pilgrimage with noble aspirations of how we will bring something to the poor. But, inevitably, we must allow God to first heal what is sick and poor inside our own souls. Then, he can use us in the world. If it is a pilgrimage to the poor on which we embark, we must first discover our own poverty."

Being in a new place allows us to see our brokenness very quickly. It shatters our sense of independence. In my experiences in Nicaragua I have found my brokenness in many ways but mainly through my constant struggle to understand people and to convey myself (in case you did not know, people who are bilingual have a superpower that everyone should envy and painfully desire to attain)...

 My Spanish struggle is real.

Beyond my Spanish struggle, though, I am constantly reminded of God's greatness and our weakness. Today I spent my lunch break talking with a woman who lives in Matagalpa with her husband. They are missionaries here from North Carolina, and I had the privilege of meeting her at a Bible study when I was here last year. 

She described her family's journey as they responded to God's call for them to serve to Nicaragua. She emphasized how "unqualified" they were to be missionaries and how fearful she was of coming to a country she knew nothing about. When I asked her how she felt about it now, she said that she would not trade this journey and this life for anything. 

She had to deny her own desire to stay in the States and do ministry there. She said she has never had to trust in God so much. Throughout this time, God has changed her heart and she has "fallen in love with the people of Nicaragua." This conversation took place as she was shelving books at the school library because she has seen their need and is humble enough to come once a week to help meet that need.

When we are forced to set aside our comfort and status and confidence and complete understanding of how everything works and our solid plans of the future, we step into the margins. We are no longer at the center of everything:

"Taking us to the margins of life where we can discover poverty, God wants us to see ourselves in those who are poor. He wants us to identify with people who are outcasts, estranged from the comforts of home and community" (Barnes).

To sum it up, missions is a mirror of the gospel. Christianity is unique in its assertion that our works cannot bring us to salvation or Nirvana or enlightenment or happiness. We, on our own, are empty and hopeless. In the same way, we cannot do anything to bring healing to people because we are also in need of healing. 

So what do we do?...

We need healing. So we point to the healer.

We can't save. So we point to the  One who saves.

We can't keep people from dying. So we point to the way of everlasting life.

God doesn't need us. He's already with the poor- carrying them through their poverty as He carries is through our own poverty, whether spiritual or material.

Bono identified God's omnipresence beautifully when he said, 

“God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives… God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war… God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.”

God doesn't need us, but He wants us. 

He wants us to be obedient and malleable, realizing He is holding all things together. He wants us to be explorers of our weakness and His strength. 

Are you an explorer? 

What is God calling you to explore? 

What can help you explore the poverty that is not just about dollar signs, but is a poverty that runs through all of us? 

Thank you for the prayers and encouragement! Much love!