Yes, Pt. 3

I'm currently suffering from more brain farts, but I'm going to go ahead and post again anyway. It's been over a day since coming back and yet I'm still so tired beyond belief. And sore. More on the soreness later.

Thursday morning, our first morning there--before the street ministry stuff--was the first of many times I was out of my mind with frustration. I still didn't know any of the youth that much, and as a result hadn't spoken a lot that morning. I felt like everyone was making fun of me, and finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I got up from the breakfast table and went outside to find Rodney and Cindy. I'd started crying pretty hard, which doesn't happen very often and which embarrassed me, but I was pretty desperate at that point. I sat down with them, asking for prayer and they laid their hands on me and prayed. They said a lot of encouraging things that I can't remember now, although I know they were so glad I'd come on the trip and God would be able to use me and that they thought I was brave. That made me feel a bit better, but as you know the depression and frustration sank in again later that morning during street ministry.
So the trip was basically filled with Spanish, working/pretending to work, Spanish, eating delicious food (holy crap the food was amazing... I had a food baby by the end of the trip), Spanish, taking breaks to read Run Baby Run (which is a FANTASTIC book), Spanish... you get the gist of it. There were quite a few meetings and conversations in which everyone but me seemed to find pretty enthralling. I admit that I have pride issues and so I didn't ask for interpretation help as much as I should've. I didn't like the idea of asking someone to give up their part in the conversation to interpret for me. I usually sat there and pretended like I understood what was being said, but honestly I got bored a lot. However, there were many times when someone said something in a hilarious tone of voice or with a funny facial expression and I would burst out laughing along with everyone else....which, um... helped, I guess.

One of the things I loved was the music. The Managua group is very musically inclined, and so there were a lot of great worship sessions inside and outside the house, planned and spontaneously. They played a lot of songs I already knew, so I sang along with them in English. At first I was wary about being the only English singer, but I got tired of not being able to worship with everyone else because of not knowing the Spanish words. After a while I figured "Screw it, I'm here to worship too and this is the only way I know how," and I sang my little American heart out.

I also figured out that I have the gift of praying in tongues... to people who don't know English. Well, that's close enough to having a spiritual gift. We had several ministry sessions, which was pretty great, but it was strange for me to pray out loud in English while knowing the person couldn't understand what I was saying. I know this because people have prayed for me in Spanish. Let me tell you this...I really appreciate the gesture but almost wish they wouldn't unless there's an interpreter. They're putting in time and energy to pray for me, but it's embarrassing to stand there and not be able to appreciate the words they're praying over me. Heck, they could be telling God to strike me down with a lightning bolt because they hate my guts and I would never know. Also, it's hard to tell when their prayer's over.

The few times I prayed for someone who understood English (yeah, all two of them) went great though. God gave me a word for our friend Tito, so I went ahead and told him during the Night of Worship we held at the church Saturday evening. Later I found out that I was one of several people who had told him the same thing that day, and what I'd said was a confirmation of what God wanted Tito to know. It's always a wonderful feeling, knowing that God's used you for something important in another person's life. What made it better for me was that I no longer felt useless.

We attended church on Sunday, getting there pretty early for the band to practice worship for the service. Needless to say, I was pretty bored...again. And for some reason I was pretty depressed again during the majority of church. I've been told to be watchful for spiritual attacks, and it was ironic to me that I was feeling the effects of these attacks in church, surrounded by people who loved God, but who I could also barely communicate with. So I was pretty quiet and withdrawn that morning, there were even times when I was on the verge of tears again from feeling so bad.

Thankfully, this time Abiud beckoned me over from my corner and interpreted Josue's (one of our leaders) message he was sharing with everyone. Some of it struck me as being almost funny because it went along with what I'd been thinking that morning...things like we often feel alone at times, we know God is with us but sometimes it doesn't feel like He's really WITH us. But He sometimes backs off like that to test our faith, to see how we react and if we depend on Him all the more for it.

Suddenly a few people stood up and walked to the front where Josue was.

"What's happening?" I asked Abiud.

"He's calling up people who have prayer requests," he replied.

I nodded seriously, got up, and sat in the front as well.

One of the youth girls was the first to pray for me. I did my best not to fidget as she sat with me, saying whatever it was she was saying that I couldn't understand. I could tell she really meant it though, because she reached over and placed a hand on my heart. It felt a lot easier to be in her presence after that, language barrier or not.

Julie came and sat with me after that, giving me a gigantic hug that I really needed. This time I cried because she spoke the exact words I needed to hear... things like God gave me foreign looks for a reason, to go to more places that "tall white gringos" like Julie could never go, and that I would be going to many more places. She told me many things that I knew God gave her because so many of what she said was personal. It sounds so trite and bland the way I'm writing it, but just now that it was a wonderful prayer that had me in tears the whole time.

I'm pretty sure I'm nearing the end of my Costa Rica blogs. Don't worry, I'm now starting to get more in the habit of getting on here and posting! More to come soon.