“Oh, yes! I’ll hold your baby for a photo”, I reply in broken Spanish. I find myself sitting in a rocking chair in the driveway of a small house in the tiny mountain town I now call home. The baby I’m holding is Wilder, the child of the woman who sits in front of me. It’s her house and her neighborhood that I sit in meeting person after person who comes in with the word, “Americana” following their feet. “Azul, por favor”, I say as I point to the blue nail polish behind her. She delicately paints it onto my new acrylic nails as I discuss which dog breed is better with the neighbor boy to my right. I’ve never gotten fake nails before, much less in the driveway of a woman I’ve never met. This month, getting fake nails and holding babies is my ministry.
I have the unique opportunity this month to serve my host family here in the Dominican. Everyday, I get to tutor the two missionary kids that live with us here on base. We do math and write papers, but we also worship, dance, hike, and just hang out. They’re pretty much my best friends and man, do I love them dearly.
This month, ministry looks a lot less like sharing the gospel with people who don’t speak my language. It doesn’t look like evangelizing on the street or seeing incredible miracles and healings. It doesn’t look like building things for the community, making children curriculums, or making care packages for women caught in trafficking like the rest of my squad is doing. So, why would I choose it? Why would I raise $16,000 and live in a tent to get my nails done? Why would I go overseas to sit and do math with people who already know the gospel? I can’t tell incredible stories or have cool instagram posts that prove people supported me for a good reasons. Maybe I went on this 9 month journey so God could remind one missionary kid, one missionary, one person that hears the gospel everyday, that He loves them so deeply and dearly. Dare I say, maybe, just maybe, Jesus called me overseas to be a friend.
A friend to the one that picked up his life in his small community in Costa Rica to serve the Lord. To the one who left everything he had in Colombia to put hope in the dream that Jesus would bring light to a random beach town he went to. To the one who said yes to Jesus to go back to his country, the Dominican Republic, after living in Texas for years. To the families that are celebrated for the number of people saved in their newsletter that month. To the families that are supported, loved, and following their calling, but are afraid to say they are actually lonely.
A friend to the one who has never heard the name of Jesus. To the one homeless man who is hangs out by the bus station. To the one woman who has been caught in sex trafficking because she thinks she has no option. To the one who has been hurt by the church too many times to count and is seeking anything else.
And maybe, Jesus is calling me to see them the same, with the same eyes.
Jesus, I want to look more like you, how?
John 15:13
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends…I have called you friends…”
The woman at the well, John 4 (I was her friend)
Lazarus, John 11 (I was her friend)
The disciples, Matthew 4 (I was their friend)
Okay, Jesus, be a friend. what does it look like to lay my life down for my friends, though?
Philippians 2:3
“Do nothing out of selfish ambition, but in humility count other more significant than yourselves.”
walk to get your nails done. Sit on the bed of the girl you’re tutoring and talk about what the Lord is teaching you. Cry with her when she shares her heart. Skip writing that day because that’s what’s best. Count her more significant, say yes when she wants to sit on hornet infested swings.
Jesus, what if it hurts? What about when it’s hard, or I have to say goodbye?
Luke 1:46-55 (My mother rejoiced in me)
Luke 2:41-52 (My mother still loved me and chased me down, even when she knew I was going to die)
John 19:25 (My mother was there when I died)
If Jesus did it, so should I. If Jesus loved His friends hard, so should I. If Jesus loved His friends when it didn’t make perfect sense to others, so should I. If Jesus loved HIs friends , even when He had to say painful goodbyes, so should I. To everybody, always.
So, maybe I spent $3 USD to get long fake nails that look weird with the shorts and t-shirt that I’ve only hand washed for 8 months. Maybe I did it so one 13 year-old girl who hears and sees the gospel everyday could see the love of Jesus in a different way. Maybe I did it so one 16 year old girl who lives her life in passion of the Lord could feel a little less lonely in this journey of being a missionary kid.
Jesus called me overseas to get fake nails, sitting next to a friend, and it was all for the Kingdom.
Thanks God.
