I’ve always heard a picture is worth a thousand words, but I think it’s worth more. Or perhaps, it’s priceless. Some pictures, I believe, can speak for themselves. They can provoke emotions. They can make you wonder or sit in awe or desire more. But some photos require more explanation. Some cannot capture the feeling or the complexity of the moment. There are things that happen outside of the frame. Instants not contained with the lens of my camera or a 4×6 print. Some photos, like the one of Jake and me with marker on our foreheads, require words to understand. They require a story. So, let me set the scene.
It’s our first Saturday night in Portoviejo, Ecuador. Our team is split into pairs to go to four different Grupos de Vida, small groups with about ten to twelve mid-twenties amigos. Around 7:30, our host, Percy, drops Jake and I off at our group’s house. We are immediately greeted with besos and warm smiles. Even though we thought we were running late, we still arrive 30 minutes before the rest of the group (Ecuadorian time, ya’ know).
So in the meantime, we sit with an amigo as he points to things around the room and says the names in Spanish. We repeat it with broken accents and apologetic laugher. Not after long, the rest of the group begins to arrive. We are fed wafers, banana bread, juice, cheese filled bread, and oranges. Once everyone is seated, we begin to play the name game. Except in this name game, you switch names with another person, say a phrase when you are called upon, and if you mess up (even a little) you get marker across your forehead. Three strikes and you’re out. I’ll give you one guess as to who was the first to lose. I mean, the odds were kind of stacked against us, considering we just met these new amigos and the extent of my Spanish is “Hola, como estas?” But, nonetheless, we jumped in feet first. It was quite hysterical, the two Americans butchering “Tengo no rayas en la frente, y tu?” and the ten Ecuadorians butchering my name. (My parents definitely did not name me with the thought that I might become a missionary. Harper is real hard to say in other countries) I laugh until I cry, the happy tears stream down my cheeks while marker streaks across my forehead. I look to my right and see my amiga Vielka smiling ear to ear. Across the living room, Ronnie pulls out a guitar and begins to play and I realize this is all too familiar.
Jesus, is this what I signed up for? This seems too easy, too natural. I thought you called us to be uncomfortable. I thought this would be much harder than playing games and worshipping with my friends. Is this enough?
Looking around the group, I recognize Jesus is there too (with no marker on his forehead I might add). He’s laughing along. He is singing with us. He is listening intently while one member of the group teaches a Bible story. And this laughter, this game, this group—- this is ministry too. Yes, sometimes it is hard. Sometimes it does make you uncomfortable. Sometimes it doesn’t come naturally. But other times, it does. You make new amigos quickly and you eat banana bread and you clap out of rhythm and you thank Jesus that our faith is built upon relationships.
I am so grateful for this week my team has spent in Portoviejo. It has become our home, just as it was destined to. We’ve spent our days working in a hospital, feeding and teaching kids in the garbage dump, and meeting many amigos and amigas from the church. We have already seen Jesus show up in numerous ways. How great is our God.
FUNDRAISING UPDATE:
I am $3239 away from being fully funded!! If you feel led to donate, click the button at the top of the page. Thank you so much for all the support you have already given. Your prayers mean more to me than words can say.
