Prayer walks
An opportunity to go door to door and learn the stories of people unseen by the world. In America most people get annoyed by someone coming to their door unannounced, but people aren’t like that around the world. While Americans focus on individuality and independence from their neighbors, third world countries focus on family and community. Strangers invite strangers into their homes without question, the guests always have a place to sit, and the people are willing to talk about most anything if you give them the chance.
There are three main things Nicaraguans usually ask prayer for- their families, their homes, and for their country to have peace. Sometimes I think my prayers become so focused on complicated ideas that I forget how important it is to pray simple prayers, to remember the blessings I often overlook. While Nicaragua is far better off than it was a year ago, people are afraid of what could come. The future is unclear and peace is unstable. I forget how lucky I was to grow up in a small town where I could leave my door unlocked.
One day my team was sent to a house to deliver rice and beans. There was a woman there named Jacklin, and she had a son named Jake. After sitting down to talk, my team quickly learned that this woman was physically unable to work because she had a problem in her nervous system. She was a single mom all alone with no means to provide, and after more conversation my teammate asked “How are you doing spiritually?” Tears filled Jacklin’s eyes, and she quietly muttered “I want to die”. My heart broke for this woman. I saw her need and I saw her pain etched across her tired face. I saw the way her eyes looked with sorrow upon the world around her, and in that sorrow I saw a familiar face- my own.
Stepping forward to Jacklin, I began to tell her a story. I told her about the pain of being a kid from a divorced family, how my parents had a rough falling out and how I felt so alone. I told her about my mother’s financial need, how my family had to rely on the food shelf and out church to provide our need (just as she needed to rely on REAP for rice and beans). I told her about how ashamed I was to be poor and in need, and I shared about my self harm and thoughts of suicide.
And then, I told her about Jesus. I walked her through my testimony, how Jesus found me when I was so lost and alone. I told her how Jesus never stopped providing for my family and that sometimes all we needed to do was ask for help. I shared with her about my heavenly Father and His love for His children, and I told her that suicide wasn’t an option. I told her that her pain wasn’t in vain because someday she is gonna have a testimony of hope and redemption. Someday she’ll have a story to share about how Jesus saved her life, and someday she’ll need to pass that along (just as I passed mine along to her). We embraced and I held her as she sobbed on my shoulder. I wiped a tear from her eye and reminded her that God loves her, that her life is worth fighting for.
Later on my translator Julio came up to me and thanked me for sharing my story. A tear graced his eye as he tried to explain how much it meant to him, but I can’t take any credit for that story. My life is a story written by Jesus, I’m just fortunate enough to be the protagonist.
I am blessed to have a story to share and I am blessed that God calls me to share it. Sometimes I see people try to encourage each other by sharing wisdom or insight into God and thats a good thing in its right place. However, there is great power in sharing your testimony of how Jesus walked you through the valley of the shadow of death. You don’t share your story to talk about yourself, but to point even more glory back to Him. I don’t share my story to draw attention to myself, but to draw attention to my hero Jesus. There is power in a testimony of Jesus, so I encourage you to share yours. Find someone who is broken and lost, listen to their story, and then give them hope.
~CLS
