Faithfulness Continued...

I can almost feel the climate beginning to climb into the warmer months tonight, as I lay here on my bed with my fan on high, typing out my thoughts and hopes and experiences for the world to read (the world, or my single official “follower” on blogspot- thanks Drew). It’s rare that my fan ever goes on a higher than setting 2, on a dial of 1 to 4, because Chris and I have discovered that increasing intensity from that stage simply creates a relentless Jurassic Park-like noise and a dangerous clicking sound from somewhere within the erratically spinning blades. Tonight however, as it is a particularly scorching evening and my roommates are happily in the air conditioning of the parent’s room, I am thankful for the aggressive background noise, as it drowns out the sounds of the suffering American karaoke session apparently happening with the Catholics next door.

So, for now, Jurassic Park roars..

Even with the stifling heat and noisy fan waiting for me as I get into bed, I graciously welcome this time every evening- time to lay still, to breathe. Right before I let my exhaustion drag me into hot, dreamless sleep however, and I am still, with the night and calm atmosphere that surrounds me- then, I can let the world slow, and my mind with it, letting my thoughts settle into this semi-cohesive stream of consciousness. And I can feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and admiration wash over me.

I think of God’s faithfulness.

Over the past week my work with El Shaddai has drastically changed. The past month of helping out at the clinic, and doing odd jobs in every part of the ministry, never having a set agenda, going to all the meetings, doing all the activities, traveling to all the barrios- I felt so scattered. And though I still loved it- the hard, the easy, the dramatic, the mundane- I still couldn’t help feeling a little lost. A little unsure of why God had called me here. A little unsure if even the Lord had called me here. And then lately, this week especially, all the events, all the activities, all the translating, all the meetings are finally paying off; I just finished an El Shaddai document that is essentially all that is El Shaddai- the vision, the mission, the contacts, the ministry, the programs (including new children’s sponsorship programs just drafted this week), and the many ways to donate- and will be passing it on to any church with an interest in missions abroad. I can act as a translator, I can write official documents and emails for the ministry, I can partner with pastors and draft new programs that I think would be beneficial for the ministry, I can raise awareness in churches in the US, I can serve the people and the Ministry here to the best of my ability while I am here, and I can be the eyes and ears of people who are elsewhere, because I’ve seen it, and done it all already.

I think of God’s faithfulness.

Today was hard. I had to wake up at 7 for a pastor’s conference in Chichigalpa, and naturally it was a down hill spiral from there. Mid-afternoon as I lay down to rest, almost reaching my much-needed sleep, I got called to go to a bible study with the Pastora, and I would be leading some worship, and we were leaving now. My heart could not have been in a less-happy state as I sauntered into the van and buckled in next to Rossy. As we reached la iglesia Santa Ana, and circled the block a few times I asked where we were going, and the answer I received changed my state of mind immediately.

This past Sunday in church after the offering, a woman stood from her seat and came forward to share a testimony with us. I had never seen her before, which was understandable given my new circumstances, and so when I asked my neighbor who she was and they said all they knew was she ran with prostitutes, I braced myself for the story I’d heard too many times before- the story I hoped wasn’t coming.

Her name is Indiana. She is in her 40s or 50s, beautiful, and so incredibly valued and precious to the Lord. And as she stood in front of the church that day, sharing her broken heart and life with us, my lacking Spanish kept me from understanding everything entirely, but what I could understand brought tears to my eyes and a stomach wrenching ache deep in my heart. Indiana’s mother was a prostitute, and only a few short years after she was born her mother took her to a prostitution house, where I believe she was working at the time, and left her there. Painful years past and eventually she was allowed the opportunity to go live with her grandmother, which she took immediately. Indiana was 12 years old. Her grandmother died shortly thereafter, so she returned to her mother, thinking she would be received with loving and remorseful open arms. When Indiana found her mother, her mother was irate, beating her nearly to death on sight before selling her to another prostitution chain. Beaten, hopeless, and alone, Indiana worked as a prostitute in Chinandega for 30 years. Then she met Jesus. And with time, love, and Jesus’ sweet words of salvation and redemption, her broken heart and broken life were transformed into whole, new ones. After church that Sunday she came and ate with us in the afternoon, and played volleyball with us in the evening. The next day she went with Montse, Chris, and I to the market to go shopping for Montse’s graduation. And today we were meeting her at La Casa de Mujeres, for a bible study- a bible study with all of her prostitution friends whom she had invited. This was going to be the first one. My heart leapt.

I think of God’s faithfulness.

After circling the block what seemed like 11 times, we finally found the place we were looking for, a small gynecology office who knew many of the girls who were intended to be a part of this new bible study, and offered an empty consultation room as a possible meeting place. Two little girls painting their fingernails at the gate greeted us and sent us to the very back where Indiana was cleaning the room we were to be meeting in. When we got there Indiana informed us that no one was coming, that everyone had declined her invitation. My leaping heart caught in my throat. No one was coming. Indiana explained the girls’ mindsets to us, and began to talk to us about these friends of hers. Every account she gave us of their lives, as well as her previous one, drew pain and tears out of my raw heart as the Lord tugged it with every word. She still struggles to make ends meet, and more times than not, feels forced back into her previous life in order to provide for herself and her 3 children. She told me she wanted to start a bible study program, teaching the Word, as well as teaching prostitutes to sew, as an alternative income to the self-soliciting they feel trapped in now. I told her, fighting tears once again, that I would love to help her, and try to help get sewing machines and materials, and whatever they needed to get people up on their feet again, and out of the horrible sex industry. On hearing this, I can’t describe the look Indiana gave me as her sad and weary face broke out into a watery smile, tears escaping from her eyes and leaking in a constant stream down her face- causing mine to do likewise.

I think of God’s faithfulness.

I am so quick to doubt- so quick to lose trust, to be faithful with little… only then to turn the corner and see the bigger picture, to see the Lord be faithful with much. I have a restless spirit, so impatient, so ready to go- to see impact, results, and changes. God didn’t call me to Nicaragua for a sprint; He called me for a 7-month marathon. Everything in His perfect time. Everything for our good and His glory.
And so I lift my hands, I bend my knees, I sing of his glory. I do what I was made for. I don’t need to worry about what activities I am doing tomorrow, or what meetings I will be attending this week, or what "good" I think I am doing in my narrow and skewed view of the path that lays ahead of me.

I think of God’s faithfulness.
And I lift my empty hands of faith to receive.