The Harvest

"Not much has changed in a year, has it?" Mr. Mike said to me as we drove down the main street in Jinotega. I looked around at the buildings, the cars driving by, the people hustling about. We hit a large pothole in the road that bounced our heads in unison. "No, not much has changed since I was here last," I replied.

We didn't say much as we continued driving towards the village of Apanas just outside of Jinotega. When we arrived, I smiled as I recognized the familiar layout of the streets as well as the mountains and lake that characterize the village. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Mike, things don't change very much around here, but this place is different."

As we drove past the rows of houses, my mind flashed back to four years ago when I first worked at Apanas. Back then, the village was smaller. It was composed of several crooked lines of shacks made from cardboard, scrap metal, and tarp. Today when we drove up to Apanas, I noticed the glistening metal roofs on all the wooden houses. A few houses even have concrete foundations. Little shops and stands add color to the streets. And the church, the church for which I helped lay the foundation four years ago, stood out brightly in the middle of the village.

Instead of the run-down town that I first visited four years ago, today I saw a growing community with a church building as the center of the hustle and bustle. In that church building today, we held a Vacation Bible School program for eighty or more children with many of their parents watching. The church doors are open for people to hear about Jesus in Apanas, which is the greatest improvement of all.

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Besides helping with VBS in Apanas today, I also worked on building a house in that community. The house will belong to Angelita, a gentle and kind woman who works for Mision Para Cristo. Her new house will sit on top of the mountain at Apanas, overlooking all the new shiny metal roofs and the distant lake where the village gets its fish. In order to build her house there, we had to carry buckets of sand, rocks, and water to the top of the mountain so that we can make cement. Let me be the first to say that carrying five gallow buckets of sand up a steep mountain all day long makes for intense labor. At least my sore back, bruised legs, calloused feet, and sun-kissed face will make for a long, hard sleep tonight. I can't remember the last time I worked like I did today! Bucket after bucket after bucket....

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Meanwhile, back at the mission, ladies cut 6x6 squares out of scrap fabric. After hours of tedious scissor work, they made a pile of quilting squares to give to the Nicaraguan ladies at Casa Materna, the maternity care center here in Jinotega. Square after square after square...

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When we think about mission work, we think about sharing the gospel and bringing souls to Christ. But the harvest can only happen after the seed has been planted, and the seed can only be planted after the soil has been tilled.

So often we want to just skip to the harvest. But bucket after bucket after bucket will lead to a new house for a precious sister in Christ. By the end of the week, all that sand will be holding together a firm foundation.

In a few short weeks, a mother will wrap her newborn baby in the only blanket she owns, a quilt that she made by herself with 36 squares.

And in a few years, a whole village may be changed. A church may be built, opened, and the gospel shared.

I have seen the fruits of the harvest as I have watched the transformation occur in Apanas over the years, but I have also carried the buckets on the way to the top of a mountain and wondered how this will ever make a difference. Even when the many buckets and many quilting squares seem tedious and  possibly pointless, we know that they are part of a much bigger picture. The soil is tilled, the seeds are planted, and God makes it grow.