I have been an intern many times in my life. Each scenario looks a little different, but essentially the definition of “intern” always remains the same.They are the worker bees. Picking up the extra slack. Doing the day-to-day tasks. It isn’t typically the most exciting or glamorous position, but overall, they are necessary. And while there may be no tangible reward for their work, interns always walk away gaining knowledge and experience that live to serve them in the greater picture of life.
In Columbia, I am an intern.
Our first week in Medellin, we were a part of a drug rehabilitation program. And when I say we were a part of it, I mean we lived among the participants, stuck to their schedule, did the work they did, and abided by their rules. In the program, the women aren’t called addicts or clients or patients. They are called interns.
Every morning, we would wake up at 5:30 to the loud clangs and shouts of men rustling around on the floors below us. Often times we would be scrambling to get ready, trying to squeeze a workout in, attempting to read our Bibles and journal, all before showing up for breakfast or Bible study. We took life as it came. Our only structure in schedule were the rough guidelines of the day’s activities met with the shouts of our supervisors telling us when it was time to be at the next thing. We just rolled with it.
And our main task during that first week as interns…peeling potatoes. For hours at a time. I’m talking about those tiny little red ones that can fit in the palm of your hand. I have callouses from wielding the knife hour after hour, day after day. And just when we thought we were doing it well, another more seasoned intern would come along, snatch the knife out of our hands, say something sternly in Spanish, and show us how it should be done.
To say we were discouraged our first few days as interns might be an understatement. We constantly felt like we could not do anything right, that we were in the way, and that in some ways, we were more of a burden than a blessing.
On top of that, we were expected to abide by very strict rules that limited our freedom and made us feel like we were being caged. Not the most pleasant feeling in the world. We felt trapped. And that was met by the crumbling of our expectations of what the race would look like. Because whether we liked it or not, we were peeling potatoes. We were interns.
After the abruptness of our transition had subsided, things began to brighten. The women in the program began to open up to us. They started to laugh with us instead of at us. We would come into the kitchen every morning awaiting our assignment, and would all joke together in unison, “mas papas!” (more potatoes). The leader of the kitchen began to use the term “mis internas” in an endearing way, and slowly but surely, we started to belong.
And then came the joy. As we got to know the women, laughter was constantly pouring out of us. We now greet each other with hugs and can joke around with ease. We lay on the floor of the hallway and watch spanish versions of Up! and The Jungle Book with them. We sit through Bible studies that we never fully understand and watch tears flow from the women’s eyes as they are moved by the Spirit. We spend hours cutting up rotten fruit and peeling apart cardboard while exchanging smiles and broken spanglish. We’ve become friends.
I look at the lives of these women and see so much redemption. So much discipline. So much love. They love God, one another, and us so fiercely. It is the kind of love that makes you feel uncomfortable and complacent because you know you should be diving deeper.
I see their lives as being deprived of the comforts I have become so used to, yet they have the ultimate freedom in Christ. While I felt caged inside the program, I saw joy radiating from them. They truly know and understand what it means to be a daughter of Christ and what it looks like to be a worker for Him on this earth. And often times, working for the glory of God means being an intern. It means pressing on towards the goal set before you. Doing the tedious things because they contribute to Kingdom growth. Sometimes it just requires doing the work. And learning a few things along the way.
I do not mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me. No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on one thing: forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.
Ephesians 3:12-14
