It was 7:00 pm on Friday night, we pulled into a gas station in Nicaragua. We had driven almost two days, crossing 3 borders and only stopping for a bathroom break twice out of the 15 hour trip the day before. Hungry and squeezed in the bus like sardines, we jumped out the windows and exited the doors as fast as we could to stretch our legs. As we walked in the gas station (which I would say is the equivalent of a nice Jump Start in the US), we passed a little boy and his abuela, sitting by the door. He stared at us as we headed inside to satisfy our drink and snack needs. I caught his eye and greeted him as I strolled by.
We had a long break in the gas station. There was a kitchen that cooked fried chicken, potato wedges, and rolls. Many of us bought food and ate inside. We were laughing, joking as we exited the doors, some of us carrying half eaten boxes of food. The little boy boldly walked to a squadmate next to me asking “Comprar me comida?”
She answered no, that she had no money to give him. But he was actually asking her for food. Knowing this, I couldn’t take my eyes off him and analyzed his moves. Maybe he would ask someone else who might help him? Removed from the situation, two of my squadmates were sharing food with each other talking, eating and carrying on with their evening. A look of desperation and desire came over him as he watched them. It was apparent that he was absolutely helpless. I felt a tug on my heart toward him, and felt that I needed to take his hand and go inside.
The bus drivers summoned us back to the bus after I pondered the thought for a bit. As we filed into our seats, climbing over seats and through the windows, I looked over my shoulder back at the child. He watched us, still looking helpless and now in a daze of confusion. The bus pulled out of the parking spot and I thought we were leaving. However, we pulled into the stall to get gas. As we drove to the stall, he was staring us down, watching his best chances at survival for the night get comfortable again. I saw behind him his mother, nursing one baby and one running around. My heart started racing.
Again, the Lord wanted me to go, giving me another chance to fulfill something He put on my heart. I pictured myself jumping out of the window of the bus and taking him inside to give him all he needed.
I didn’t do it. I allowed the fear of being an inconvenience to my tired squad grip me. I was afraid of making them wait on me because I didn’t want them to be angry. I left him standing there, and locked eyes with him as we pulled away. My whole body felt anguished and a sudden wave of defeat. I let this helpless child go to fend for himself. As I stared ahead at our close quarters, I realized I was the only one who saw him or noticed him at all. Nobody felt the remorse and discomfort that I was experiencing or the agonizing worry for this child’s life. Nobody felt like they had disobeyed any calling, nor had they felt a calling at all. He was only supposed to be visible to me. I seemed to be the only one the Lord wanted in this situation.
I ignored God once and for all and continued to when I got to Nicaragua on several other subjects. My one “no” has now spiraled me to say several “no’s” and I am now fighting a pattern of the enemy. I have wrestled this week with my ego.
My first reality check of the World Race – I ignore many of the things God tells me to do out of pride.
My second reality check – Loving someone and sharing the Lord is inconvenient, so that excuse can no longer hold validity.
Several times, things have felt like an inconvenience to “my world”, and I fall into the trap of “someone else will do it,” “I don’t want to,” or the classic “I don’t feel like it.”
Ministry is an inconvenience (for all parties involved). The reality is there will never be a good time to interrupt a routine. I have caught myself making excuses even when the people I have ministered to were willing to be interrupted in their daily life.
I have several thoughts and feelings swarming my mind right now. Guilt, failure, regret. I didn’t say “yes” though I came on the Race to say “yes” to God. I didn’t say yes when God commanded me to. I didn’t say yes when I knew I was needed to keep a child from starving. It’s easy to pretend like you will say yes to these things when you are dreaming up ways to lend a hand in the world, but the reality is you will be met with fear, vulnerability, and selfishness when you try. I’m still as sinful and prideful as the next person, and Satan won this round in the battle of myself versus myself.
This story does not have a resolution, nor do I think it needs one. I have made this bed and I must sit in it with the Lord, for we have a lot of work to do. All I can do now is pray for the sweet child to be provided for each day. All I can do is walk forward and continuously rid myself of pride and stubborn obedience. To learn to be walking in sacrificial obedience. So I walk on, continuing to learn and struggle. Continuing to understand what it is like to be God’s hands and feet. It is against the norm of culture, and against the grain of what the fallen world wants. But we are not called to be of the world, are we?
From the fear of serving others, deliver me, oh God.
Always learning,
Mary Beth
