“Serve her well.” I felt the Lord prompting me. This marked hour 5 of my 9 hour travel day, and I had waited in line early for the bus in order to secure myself a seat. I looked up at the woman standing in the bus isle beside me holding a very full bag of styrofoam food boxes. She was middle aged, strong, capable, unphased by the idea of standing. I sat for a moment looking up at her as she talked affectionately to the young woman beside her who appeared to be her daughter. I stared at her straight stance, toned arms, and calloused hands, and I silently questioned God, “But she doesn’t need my help?” For a moment doubt clouded my mind. Would she think I was pitying her or belittling her strength if I offered her my seat? She was in the middle of a conversation with the girl beside her. For a split second all I’d ever believed to be true about good deeds was challenged. It hit me. I have lived a good majority of my life looking to serve where I saw a need. God’s patient prompting interrupted my thoughts, “Do it to feel close to me.” I looked up at the woman again and in that moment saw her readjust her hand holding the very full plastic bag. This, okay Lord. I motioned her to put the bag on my lap. She beamed, said something I couldn’t understand in Spanish to the girl beside her, and relinquished her grip. I sat for another hour with that bag of hot styrofoam boxes sitting on my lap. The woman didn’t look over at me again until it was time to retrieve her things. But as I sat there, I realized that the mere act of service isn’t always for the people you are serving. It’s for the sake of sharing in something with Christ. It’s for the intimacy. It’s about hearing His voice prompting. It’s the follow through which produces closeness. I sat there already sweating with a bag of freshly made food burning my legs, and I couldn’t shake the idea that this moment was undeniably sacred with my King. (The aroma wafting from the bag also smelled like Chickfila’s breakfast minis which might’ve played a role in the divine richness of the moment. I love & miss those things.)
A few days later God elaborated even more on this truth. I work on the island Ometepe at a safe home called Cicrin for kids who come from poverty stricken or abusive homes. We spend a good majority of our days doing chores which enable Cicrin to carry the weight of hosting short term mission trips to come and stay. In my experience, groups stay anywhere from 2 days to a week and a half. In just the time I’ve been here, I have seen over 200 people come through Cicrin’s campus. The children here have grown accustomed to the steady flow of gringos, and live a life very unattached and uninvolved to the constant visitors. My heart has been dying to love and know these children. Children who very often respond to my love with malice. Children whose pasts I can’t even begin to imagine. Children who would be less annoyed if the white people would just stop bothering them. Maybe they’ve built up barriers to protect themselves. Maybe at this point they’re just simply uninterested. Regardless, I found myself crying out to the Lord, “I’m going to leave this place and not have a single deep relationship!” What kind of mission trip is that? Walking away and not impacting a single person? Again, God’s quiet voice ministered to my questioning. “This is still a season of relationship. You’re growing closer to me everyday.” Be still my heart and know. In the same way my service isn’t always about the people, my time isn’t either. I’ve gained so much in this season. I’m saturating in the truth and freedom these 8 months have brought me. I’m gathering and storing every single piece of treasure He leaves me to find. No list of names of kids who love me can prove my time here was fruitful. If my heart is after His, nothing is wasted. It’s about Him. Everything is always about Him. “Do it to feel close to me.”
