The Heart of it All
"Welcome to Chang Cheng." Our guide invited us to tour the stilted bamboo huts, peek inside the latrine, and experience a small piece of Asian culture. "This represents poverty in Asia."
As our health care missions class explored the global village at HUT (Harding University at Tahkodah), we traveled to Africa, City Soleil (a Haitian slum), Stinkin' Creek (rural North American poverty) and Huehuetenango (a Guatemalan house) to see what traditional dwelling places might look like.
We soon arrived at El Municipal, which representated an international government building. As soon as we stepped inside, a flood of memories rushed into my head. When I traveled to San Andres on the Rio Coco River in Nicaragua this summer, we stayed in a government building - one that looked remarkably similar to the one in which I stood in this moment. The dusty floors, cobwebs, and bunkbeds shoved in the corners reminded me so much of where I spend one of the most memorable weeks of my life.
Throughout the tour, I was continually reminded of my summer in Nicaragua. They didn't need to explain to me how the brick-maker works because I've used one. All I could think about as I watched them demonstrate the technique was making blocks with Miguel and Efren while laughing the whole time. As they explained how to build a latrine, all I could think about was building one with Jimmy on my last day in Jinotega this summer. During the tour, my professor asked, "Why would people build their houses on stilts?" I thought to myself, well, in San Andres they keep there animals under there. The class remained silent until the teacher answered his own question. "It provides a dwelling for their livestock." I nodded in agreement as I remembered chasing pigs under houses in San Andres.
After the tour, our class was divided into familes, and each family was assigned a village to reside for the weekend. We worked all day shoveling dirt, which constantly reminded me of a typical work day in Nicaragua. Then we bartered in the market for our dinner and ended up with a bowl rice with sparse veggies. "Can you imagine eating this every day for every meal?" one of my family members asked as we ate together around the campfire. Everyone shook their heads and muttered about how aweful that would be, but I was too busy thinking about the styrofoam boxes that were used to deliver our meals in San Andres. I lifted many of those lids during my stay, only to find rice occupying the main compartment every time without fail. But I didn't mind. In fact, I still cook an occasional meal of beans and rice just in honor of that weekend.
When we participated in a trans-cultural worship service, each visiting family was asked by the "locals" to share a song with the church. That is exactly what they do in Nicaragua, too! The Jinotega church loved for the North American visitors to sing an English song for them, and they requested it almost every time a new group came to visit.
As I laid in my sleeping bag by the campfire last night, I reflected on everything that I experienced and how much it reminded me of my time spent in Nicaragua. Although so much of it was amazingly familiar, there was something bothering me. Something was missing.
Then I understood. The people - that's what I was missing. I could work with the same intensity of physical labor, but without Jimmy and Eliud, it's just not the same. I could eat beans and rice for every meal, but without Marina and Angelita to cook it with, it's just not the same. I could sleep in a hammock a million nights, but it will never be as fun as that one night with Karla in San Andres. And I could sing a thousand songs in Spanish, but the Jinotegan church voices are what makes it come alive. It's the people that make all the difference in the world.
As I gazed up at the stars, I knew they were the same stars that I saw from the roof in Jinotega. I praised the same God and brought before Him the names of the Nicaraguans I love. I thanked Him for the global village and the cultural experiences I was having at HUT, but I also thanked Him for the real-life experience I have had. Then I didn't feel like I was missing anything anymore. My soul was satisfied as I realized that it is the people that count, that matter, that make a difference. It is the people that is what mission work is really all about.
That's why I want to be a missionary. Yes, I love the labor, market, rice, campfires, church services, hammocks, and "cultural experiences", but take away the people and something vital is noticably missing. Take away the relationships and you take away the heart of it all.
Our God is a relational God, calling us into relationship with Him and with each other. God's relational heart is pursuing each of us. We who are made in His image also have a piece of that relational heart beating within us, so we thrive in relationships. This weekend under the stars, I was reminded that mission work is as simple as that. This is why we are all called and capable of being missionaries.
We all have a mission or a ministry - something to chase after for the Lord. Whatever it may be, may we never lose the heart of it all. May we never get so caught up in the experiences that we forget about the relationships. Among all our dreams, goals, and plans of what we want to do and accomplish for God, let's remember that He is relational. Relationships are what make the greatest difference in the world.
As our health care missions class explored the global village at HUT (Harding University at Tahkodah), we traveled to Africa, City Soleil (a Haitian slum), Stinkin' Creek (rural North American poverty) and Huehuetenango (a Guatemalan house) to see what traditional dwelling places might look like.
We soon arrived at El Municipal, which representated an international government building. As soon as we stepped inside, a flood of memories rushed into my head. When I traveled to San Andres on the Rio Coco River in Nicaragua this summer, we stayed in a government building - one that looked remarkably similar to the one in which I stood in this moment. The dusty floors, cobwebs, and bunkbeds shoved in the corners reminded me so much of where I spend one of the most memorable weeks of my life.
Throughout the tour, I was continually reminded of my summer in Nicaragua. They didn't need to explain to me how the brick-maker works because I've used one. All I could think about as I watched them demonstrate the technique was making blocks with Miguel and Efren while laughing the whole time. As they explained how to build a latrine, all I could think about was building one with Jimmy on my last day in Jinotega this summer. During the tour, my professor asked, "Why would people build their houses on stilts?" I thought to myself, well, in San Andres they keep there animals under there. The class remained silent until the teacher answered his own question. "It provides a dwelling for their livestock." I nodded in agreement as I remembered chasing pigs under houses in San Andres.
After the tour, our class was divided into familes, and each family was assigned a village to reside for the weekend. We worked all day shoveling dirt, which constantly reminded me of a typical work day in Nicaragua. Then we bartered in the market for our dinner and ended up with a bowl rice with sparse veggies. "Can you imagine eating this every day for every meal?" one of my family members asked as we ate together around the campfire. Everyone shook their heads and muttered about how aweful that would be, but I was too busy thinking about the styrofoam boxes that were used to deliver our meals in San Andres. I lifted many of those lids during my stay, only to find rice occupying the main compartment every time without fail. But I didn't mind. In fact, I still cook an occasional meal of beans and rice just in honor of that weekend.
When we participated in a trans-cultural worship service, each visiting family was asked by the "locals" to share a song with the church. That is exactly what they do in Nicaragua, too! The Jinotega church loved for the North American visitors to sing an English song for them, and they requested it almost every time a new group came to visit.
As I laid in my sleeping bag by the campfire last night, I reflected on everything that I experienced and how much it reminded me of my time spent in Nicaragua. Although so much of it was amazingly familiar, there was something bothering me. Something was missing.
Then I understood. The people - that's what I was missing. I could work with the same intensity of physical labor, but without Jimmy and Eliud, it's just not the same. I could eat beans and rice for every meal, but without Marina and Angelita to cook it with, it's just not the same. I could sleep in a hammock a million nights, but it will never be as fun as that one night with Karla in San Andres. And I could sing a thousand songs in Spanish, but the Jinotegan church voices are what makes it come alive. It's the people that make all the difference in the world.
As I gazed up at the stars, I knew they were the same stars that I saw from the roof in Jinotega. I praised the same God and brought before Him the names of the Nicaraguans I love. I thanked Him for the global village and the cultural experiences I was having at HUT, but I also thanked Him for the real-life experience I have had. Then I didn't feel like I was missing anything anymore. My soul was satisfied as I realized that it is the people that count, that matter, that make a difference. It is the people that is what mission work is really all about.
That's why I want to be a missionary. Yes, I love the labor, market, rice, campfires, church services, hammocks, and "cultural experiences", but take away the people and something vital is noticably missing. Take away the relationships and you take away the heart of it all.
Our God is a relational God, calling us into relationship with Him and with each other. God's relational heart is pursuing each of us. We who are made in His image also have a piece of that relational heart beating within us, so we thrive in relationships. This weekend under the stars, I was reminded that mission work is as simple as that. This is why we are all called and capable of being missionaries.
We all have a mission or a ministry - something to chase after for the Lord. Whatever it may be, may we never lose the heart of it all. May we never get so caught up in the experiences that we forget about the relationships. Among all our dreams, goals, and plans of what we want to do and accomplish for God, let's remember that He is relational. Relationships are what make the greatest difference in the world.
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