Rancho el Paraíso

“God is like the light: we don't see light; we see all that it touches.” Donald Miller

Last week my mom and I had the incredible opportunity to travel to a little village called Las Flores (the Flowers) in the Agalta Valley of Honduras with First Presbyterian Church of Athens. Strangely enough, I have never been on a week-long mission trip before, and, honestly, I didn't really have any expectations. I didn't know anything about Honduras; all I knew was that it was part of Latin America, and I was all too eager to get back there. 

And it didn't disappoint. 

We stayed at a beautiful ranch called "Rancho el Paraíso" (Paradise Ranch), and it is truly aptly named (as you can see above). We woke up on the Ranch by 5 or 5:30 every day (which wasn't too hard, since the sun came up at about 4:30 anyway), and, after a breakfast of eggs, beans, sausage, and pancakes, we went straight to Las Flores, a 30 to 40-minute drive. At the village, we spent the first half of the day building latrines for various families, which involved mixing and hauling concrete and cement blocks, as well as laying concrete in small rooms and porches in houses around the village (and, man, it was HOT out there). 

 

Then, during the second half of the day, it was time for the kiddos! Talk about overwhelming. We sang songs, played games, read stories, made crafts, gave them toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, etc., and had lessons on hygiene. The children, as you can imagine, were absolutely precious, and it was such a special gift to spend time with them.  

What a beautiful experience it was! It was so wonderful to spend time in Latin America, to remember why I fell in love with Central America and its people, and to become re-motivated for my mission to Costa Rica. Yet, during our time with in that beautiful valley, I started to think about how interesting it was that in preparation for these short mission trips, like the one we took to Honduras, we Americans always try to think “big.” We want to bring a “big” presence, make a “big” difference, finish a “big” job. But, being in Honduras, I didn’t feel “big.” If anything, as with all my other mission experiences, I felt incredibly small. But isn’t that really how it’s supposed to feel? Doesn’t traveling to new places, meeting people who are so utterly different from ourselves, hearing languages that we don’t fully understand, being in a culture in which we are complete outsiders, doesn’t that really show us how small we are? Doesn’t it remind us how little we know and understand about the world? How small the bubbles are that we create for ourselves? Doesn't that reinforce how much we need to trust in the knowledge that's so much bigger than us?

 

Both before and during our trip to Honduras, I kept asking the Lord over and over again to show me Himself, to reveal Himself to me in a new, fresh way, to recapture my heart. I've been struggling with Him for so long, to believe that He's there and that He cares. Please show me You're there.

So I waited. I looked. I tried to feel. But I didn't see anything. I didn't feel anything new. I didn't see any signs or hear any songs or sermons that overhwelmed my heart or moved my spirit. Maybe He just wasn't there. Or maybe He didn't care.

It took me to the end of the trip to realize that He was showing Himself to me, but it wasn't through my striving to see Him; He didn't use my journal-writing (or lack there-of) or even His own Word to speak to my heart. He didn’t whisper in my ear an astounding Truth that I’d never heard of before, or send an unmistakable sign of His existence through a parting sea or a burning bush. I didn’t hear a booming voice or feel an overwhelming presence of His love. I had no visions, no supernatural dreams, no prophesies. 

But what I saw was much more intimate. He showed me His heart for His people, His utter refusal to abandon us, to leave us where we are. He doesn’t sit in the clouds and objectively observe our lives; He enters into them. He stood barefoot with the shoeless village children, singing “Chu-chu-ua” while standing in a muddy puddle of sewage. He was in the center of a latrine hole, mixing concrete and shoveling mud. He walked with us around the farm, watching a new calf being born and playing futbol with the Honduran teens. He was preparing meals with the kitchen ladies, hugging filthy children and kissing their lice-bitten heads. He was on the airplane traveling home with us, while at the same time remaining in the village. He does not abandon. He is not just a God of our American lives, He is so much more, so much bigger. His heart covers us all, lives with us all. We don’t have to wait for Him to reveal Himself; He’s already given us His heart, and His heart is everywhere. He will not leave us where we are, He will constantly challenge us and force us to grow and change and love and hurt and feel the whole spectrum of emotions and experiences in this world. Before these types of trips, we always think, “well, we need to go and bring Jesus to these people.” But Jesus is already there; our "mission trips" then are really just opportunities for us to go see Him. 

On another note, please join me in praying for this sweet couple from Matagulpa, Nicaragua who are starting Young Life ("Vida Joven") in San Esteban, Honduras. They just moved there a month ago and are starting from scratch--so please support them with your love and prayers as they begin to meet kids and try to become a part of the community!

Also, please continue to pray for my fundraising endeavors! My goal is to leave for Costa Rica by September 15, and I'm roughly 45% funded, which means I have a LOT of work to do! Thank you for all of the love and support you've given so far!