This past Tuesday I returned home from a week in Guatemala. As friends and family have asked me how the trip went, I've struggled to describe it all in a few words that will at one time communicate all the pain and passion and beauty and brokenness and joy I have experienced out of one week. Even personally, coming home from an experience like that just wasn't easy. Being there just wasn't easy. I was on emotional overload throughout the trip. My heart was bombarded with the overwhelming mission of God and He began to multiply and mold passions in my heart and I realized just how responsible I am. But it wasn't until I was home that the reality of it all hit me.
On Wednesday, I showed my pictures to a friend for the first time. I'd rested all day and was feeling clean for the first t
ime, but though I'd washed the dust of Guatemala off of my feet, I could not wash it's impact off my heart. As I flipped through the pictures, I saw Louis again, and he melted my heart. I saw him sitting on my shoulders, about to walk to the park. I saw the beautiful faces of the children from the school, their smiles and their overwhelming love and warmth. I remembered the woman who invited us into her home, a small concrete shack with dirt floors, and her asking her children to bring us stools to sit on while Ronnie shared the Gospel with her. You don't find that kind of unreserved hospitality in America, with people offering everything they have to make perfect strangers feel comfortable. And I again saw the image of the woman who gave her heart to the Lord in the middle of the street after hearing about the love of God through an evangicube, and I envied the simple, trusting faith of these people who have no other gods but the God, because their lives are without the clutter of consumerism and extravagance. I again saw the pastors of Coatepeque, who have such a zeal for God and a burn for their lost neighbors. And I wished the pastors of the mega churches of America could meet people who are apart of truly healthy churches that may have only 20 people. Because we have a lot to learn from those pastors who humbly place others first. 
Through His church in Guatemala, God has laid a vision for His church as a whole on my heart. It's beautiful, not oppressed but cultural faux-paus or shame, but a church alive, set free to worship, living in the victory of God, forsaking all other idols for the very heartbeat of a real and present God. It's a church who invites. It's a people who stand in the gap. It's a helping hand. It's a servant who kneels at the dirtiest of feet and washes them with grace and love and true friendship. It's an annointed people going out and making disciples because they can't sit still when it comes to the indescrible God of the universe. It's a church united in Christ and broken of pride, broken of a holier-than-thou attitude, broken of malice and hate, broken of shame and condemnation, broken of living defeated, completely broken. And yet completely whole. It is the beautiful bride of Christ, like Hosea's redeemed wife, God's chosen people, made up of all people who trust in God and in His son, not just a select few. It is everlasting. It endures persecution and fads and the fiery darts of satan and it transcends culture and the norm and it is of God and it is sourced by God and it is for God.
I wept for the first time over the trip and all I had seen on Wednesday, because it finally hit. Because I was totally broken. I was overwhelmed by all the images that are forever written on my heart. I am and evermore will be broken. But a friend asked me to describe the trip in a phrase. And as I thought about it, I had to say, "On a mission." Leaving Guatemala may have ended that particular missionn trip, but my mission is just beginning. I am responsible for all I have seen. I will go and tell the story of Louis and of the church in Guatemala of of Ronnie and Alex and Julio, but I must also go and awaken the church, to remind it of its purpose and to turn its eyes on the only One who can ever guide it. It took going to open my eyes, coming home to break my heart, and being stuck here to set me on fire for God's mission in my hometown and in my home country.
Oh God, I will never be the same. I am so broken. But in You I find strength. In You I find purpose and passion. In You I find my mission. You have given me a fire for Your church, Your beloved. Raise me up and use me according to your purposes. And while you work in your own timing, You won't wait on ours to redeem Your people. So use me now however you choose. Thank you for the beautiful people of Guatemala, who have taught me so much about loving you and serving those You love. Break down my walls of pride, that I may be used as a bridge between the introverted church and the people of this world who need to see Your image in Your people. It's all for You. Amen.
On Wednesday, I showed my pictures to a friend for the first time. I'd rested all day and was feeling clean for the first t
ime, but though I'd washed the dust of Guatemala off of my feet, I could not wash it's impact off my heart. As I flipped through the pictures, I saw Louis again, and he melted my heart. I saw him sitting on my shoulders, about to walk to the park. I saw the beautiful faces of the children from the school, their smiles and their overwhelming love and warmth. I remembered the woman who invited us into her home, a small concrete shack with dirt floors, and her asking her children to bring us stools to sit on while Ronnie shared the Gospel with her. You don't find that kind of unreserved hospitality in America, with people offering everything they have to make perfect strangers feel comfortable. And I again saw the image of the woman who gave her heart to the Lord in the middle of the street after hearing about the love of God through an evangicube, and I envied the simple, trusting faith of these people who have no other gods but the God, because their lives are without the clutter of consumerism and extravagance. I again saw the pastors of Coatepeque, who have such a zeal for God and a burn for their lost neighbors. And I wished the pastors of the mega churches of America could meet people who are apart of truly healthy churches that may have only 20 people. Because we have a lot to learn from those pastors who humbly place others first. Through His church in Guatemala, God has laid a vision for His church as a whole on my heart. It's beautiful, not oppressed but cultural faux-paus or shame, but a church alive, set free to worship, living in the victory of God, forsaking all other idols for the very heartbeat of a real and present God. It's a church who invites. It's a people who stand in the gap. It's a helping hand. It's a servant who kneels at the dirtiest of feet and washes them with grace and love and true friendship. It's an annointed people going out and making disciples because they can't sit still when it comes to the indescrible God of the universe. It's a church united in Christ and broken of pride, broken of a holier-than-thou attitude, broken of malice and hate, broken of shame and condemnation, broken of living defeated, completely broken. And yet completely whole. It is the beautiful bride of Christ, like Hosea's redeemed wife, God's chosen people, made up of all people who trust in God and in His son, not just a select few. It is everlasting. It endures persecution and fads and the fiery darts of satan and it transcends culture and the norm and it is of God and it is sourced by God and it is for God.I wept for the first time over the trip and all I had seen on Wednesday, because it finally hit. Because I was totally broken. I was overwhelmed by all the images that are forever written on my heart. I am and evermore will be broken. But a friend asked me to describe the trip in a phrase. And as I thought about it, I had to say, "On a mission." Leaving Guatemala may have ended that particular missionn trip, but my mission is just beginning. I am responsible for all I have seen. I will go and tell the story of Louis and of the church in Guatemala of of Ronnie and Alex and Julio, but I must also go and awaken the church, to remind it of its purpose and to turn its eyes on the only One who can ever guide it. It took going to open my eyes, coming home to break my heart, and being stuck here to set me on fire for God's mission in my hometown and in my home country.
Oh God, I will never be the same. I am so broken. But in You I find strength. In You I find purpose and passion. In You I find my mission. You have given me a fire for Your church, Your beloved. Raise me up and use me according to your purposes. And while you work in your own timing, You won't wait on ours to redeem Your people. So use me now however you choose. Thank you for the beautiful people of Guatemala, who have taught me so much about loving you and serving those You love. Break down my walls of pride, that I may be used as a bridge between the introverted church and the people of this world who need to see Your image in Your people. It's all for You. Amen.
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