Summer’s busyness has left little time for reflection. Maybe you are in the midst of an overly saturated schedule as well. As a new school year approaches, I am forcing myself to pause for a moment or two and remember these last couple of months, because they were life changing. Yes, roll your eyes, I know this is a trite expression used for almost anything these days.
Yet it is the only phrase I can possibly use to describe this Summer.
Flexibility is not a strength of mine; I admire people who go with the flow and adapt quickly when necessary.
This. Is. Not. Me.
My family went to Ecuador on a mission trip. My husband and I wanted to go on mission for years, but we really wanted to take our children with us. This trip allowed for children to go as well, so we were completely excited. We planned, met with the rest of the team going, and had a detailed schedule in hand.
I like schedules.
The day we flew to Quito, we learned the pastor hosting our group in his home had lost his mother. Flexible was apparently our new “go to” word.
The lengthy flight provided ample time for contemplation on the work we were going to do. Sadly, I was feeling a little proud that our family was engaging in this mission. I imagined the impact we would have sharing the gospel with people in the communities.
The first morning was an outdoor church service. The pastor hosting us did not attend – he was at his mother’s funeral. After the service, we sat on the ground sharing a meal with all who came to worship and attempted to re-plan our days. The plan included one item – be flexible.
Our first outing was delivering love bags to homes. We loaded a bus and headed to town. We didn’t know much about the homes we were visiting. Since there were about 20 of us with translators and interns, we knew it didn’t make sense for all of us to swarm in on the homeowners. When we arrived at the first stop, our leader told us our family was up first. Our family of four plus a translator got off the bus.
We were met outside the home by the homeowner and invited to the back of the house. We were told by our translator the homeowner wanted to share his story with us. Now wait a minute! I thought we were the ones coming to share…
The back of the home housed a cement trough used for dishes, bathing and water storage. The homeowner shared there had been an explosion which caused debris to fall on his home. The debris had also fallen on his daughter who had been standing at this trough. She had been in a coma and her face had been disfigured. Though she had eventually regained consciousness, her scars were far from healed. In addition to the physical harm, their home had been destroyed.
My heart raced and icy fingers crawled up my back – this was no chance encounter meeting this family. The man invited us inside to see the damage; their home was unlivable. As we stood in what remained of a living room, my husband quietly asked if we could share a story with them. He had read my mind. When they agreed, he told them how our home had been severely damaged in a flood caused by a hurricane. Hurricane Harvey had stormed in bringing four feet of water in our home just months before we took this trip. My husband shared how we had lost a lot. Yet, my husband had more to offer; he shared how every single step of the recovery and rebuild, God had provided in ways we could never have anticipated. From the amazing people who came to help to the speediness of a rebuild – God provided for us.
In this room with complete strangers, we cried tears of unity – unity of destruction and unity of hope. We prayed for one another, shared the food basket and left overwhelmed with emotion.
There were numerous encounters similar to this. Moments only God could appoint and prepare long before our arrival to this beautiful city. By the end of day one, I knew there was so much more here for me than anything I was bringing to the trip. But there was one moment – one encounter – that truly changed my perspective – that was that life changing moment…
Toward the middle of the trip we headed by bus toward a town embedded in the side of a mountain. The bus had to stop at the top of a dirt path, and we walked the rest of the way down to visit the home. Pulling the curtain aside (literally the front door), we entered the home ready to share the gospel. By this point, we all had a lot of practice sharing Jesus. Two young girls, both with small children were our listeners. One child was about six weeks old and I couldn’t help but grab the little baby boy and love on him for awhile. We talked to the moms about their love for these sweet boys playing around us and the one in my arms. We asked if there was anything that would stop them from loving these babies. They looked at us like we were crazy and said very emphatically, NO!
We explained that it is the same with Jesus. He loves us completely, and there is nothing we could do to change that. They both prayed to accept Christ and as much as I hated to do it, I had to give the baby back.
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As we headed to the door, the translator grabbed my arm and said the homeowner had asked for me to stay behind – send everyone else out- you stay. I’d be lying to say my heart didn’t increase its beat a touch. I shared with the group I was staying back a minute (but I might have suggested they stay close).
Once everyone left, the homeowner looked me in the eyes and pleaded I speak with the young woman with the baby I had held. There was an issue in her life that needed some specific guidance and prayer. In the last several years, God has allowed me to be part of situations I normally would not encounter. When the homeowner shared the situation, it was one the Lord had put in my path numerous times before. He had prepared me for this. He had given me words and scriptures repeatedly for this moment – such a time as this.
Getting to my knees on the dirt floor, the translator and I shared what God said about this sweet mom’s beauty and worth. That she was a child of God who was fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God, (Genesis 1:27; Psalm 139:14). We cried together – we prayed together. We told her steps to take for her specific situation.
It took everything within me to walk out of that home. I wanted to cling to this woman and love on her until she got it. I knew I might never know if she listened – had really heard – and got help – stayed faithful to the decision she made for Jesus.
I don’t know how I made it up the mountain, but I do remember falling into my husband’s arms- holding on to him as tightly as possible, because I had been broken. God had completely split my heart open – sifted out a lot of ugly gunk residing there for a while, and began preparing it for new work He alone can and will do.
Perspective changed.
Priorities changed.
God’s way works. It always works. I just had to get out of the way and submit to His plan. Complete obedience – all the time.
Flexibility is key.
How many moments we would have missed adhering to a schedule. Moments appointed before we ever stepped foot on a plane.
Not long into the trip, we realized a set time was irrelevant. Loading the bus at 2:00 might actually turn out to be 2:50, hence the phrase “it’s 2:00 until it’s 3:00.” Time really didn’t matter as long as God was ordering our steps. His timing is perfect.
And because He is such a good and loving God, a few weeks after we were back home I received word of the sweet young woman in the difficult situation. I had prayed for her and longed to hear something about her life.
A picture was sent of her and her son standing with the a group of people – a groups of people that had started a new church on the side of that mountain. Her smile was radiant.
So was mine!
The church started on the side of the mountain!