Sitting there, listening to their stories, I now knew why I had come today. Looking back, I can now admit that up until that moment I had a poor attitude about the day’s schedule. Going house to house to share the gospel in Spanish isn’t exactly at the top of my comfort zone.
Sitting in the living room drinking Honduran cola, I struggled to keep up with the story of the family being translated into broken English. The women was crying. I could tell that she was grateful we were there.
As our team sat around her and her children, with puppies playing at our feet, we listened to her story. The woman had attended church a little over a week before and had been prayed over by a local pastor. Her family had been struggling with many different issues. As the pastor prayed, he began to tell the woman that God was about to do some amazing things in her family. As he went into detail, the woman listened, praying his words were true. As the pastor closed off his time with her, he told her that a group of Americans would come visit her family at her house in the next couple of weeks and pray with them.
We were those Americans.
Not knowing what had happened days ago, our team had showed up to do an assembly for school aged children, only to find that there were no children… This was Honduras. Plan B.
We split our team up into two groups and headed door to door inviting families to church, and praying with whoever would allow.
God had placed us in the right place, at His right time to confirm a promise He had given a woman for her family. He placed His words in our mouths to buildup and encourage. He used our incredible insecurities to magnify Himself.
What an incredible afternoon. Moment after moment, house after house, God showed up. We were given the opportunity to lay hands on the sick, encourage those who needed encouragement, and pray with those who wanted to invited Jesus into their lives. How often I think my life is about me. I act simply out of my comforts and securities; avoiding the things that make me squirm. When I think about that afternoon in San Pedro, I am honored that God would choose an insecure white girl, and send her across the globe (or sometimes simply across the room…) to reveal to another just how much He loves them.
As I sit here this evening, I am gently reminded, it’s not about me. It never has been, and it never will be. My life is about my Jesus. It’s about striving towards being more like Him and reflecting who He is to others. What an honor. May my uncomfort be used to speak life and shine truth.