So far only days into life in the field, the World Race has delivered what it promised while managing to still take me completely by surprise. We started off our month in Colombia with a bang that took the form of a magical and extraordinarily blessed 3 day layover in Cartagena, Colombia. In the words of my teammate Tiara on the first night, “It was no mistake that we were led here”. Welcome to expedition.
Upon arrival in Cartagena, we were bused into the heart of the city to the mission site of an international organization called YWAM where we were met by a warm welcome from dozens of Colombian young people. The language barrier was quickly reduced to rubble as we struggled through broken conversations, punctuated by smiles and apologetic laughter. We were serving the kingdom together as unified brothers and sisters and the one-ness of the church took on flesh. It was exhilarating and my thoughts raced to the beat of “We’re actually doing this. We’re actually on the Race”. Someone pinch me.
Because we were essentially job-less during our time in Cartagena until we flew to our official mission site on San Andres Island, we decided to loosely follow the schedule of YWAM, our other squad members’ mission site for the month, while seeking out other potential places of need. YWAM had arranged for us to stay with another ministry group, and after meeting our gracious hosts who had agreed to house us for the duration of our stay, we realized that seeking out work would not be necessary. God had no intention of letting us miss the work He had for us.
Mao and Diana are a married couple from Colombia who serve as Christian missionaries at the local Universities. Their home doubled as a college ministry hang out spot and their living room was decorated with musical instruments leaned against the corner and a shelf of American board games. “We only have one space to use, but God can use everything” Mao explained, his eyes animated with hope. “In Cartagena, the people are open but there is no one to minister to them”. The scriptures echoed in our minds that night as we desperately tried to find an immediate solution for a long-term problem; “For the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few”. There was so much to do, so little time.
The next couple days were a blur and filled with overwhelming blessing and opportunity as we bounced back and forth from our host’s college ministry and YWAM where our fellow squad mates from other teams were serving. We were serving alongside fellow laborers in the vineyard; our ministries as varied as trash clean up by the river to praise and worship and prayer ministry in the local University classrooms. God was everywhere and so were we. “Could the Race really be this easy?”, I thought. “Has bringing the Kingdom on Earth always been this obvious?” Still, I could hardly imagine transplanting this same ministry method to Whole Foods market or the Rock Climbing Gym back home. Maybe the only thing I lacked all along at home was courage. I certainly have never gone without God’s faithfulness or Spirit. Still, I had trouble fathoming it.
By Thursday, the climax of our time in Cartagena found us in the city square at a protest calling for the government to prioritize the protection of the family. It was unlike any protest I had ever been to; the crowd was colorful and passionate, buzzing with electricity and life as the people danced to music in the square; laughter bouncing off the buildings where people leaned out of windows holding Colombian flags. I was breathless as the nationalism rose like heat from the masses of Colombians listening intently to the cries of pastors, educators, and advocates demanding change. Though I could only understand a word here or there, the universal language of belief in the possibility of revival was like a surge of power, shaking the ground beneath us. It turns out, there were no Colombians, Cartagena natives, Americans, Christians, or tourists at all. The lines between us dissipated we stood as a unified front behind our shared philosophies. We were all people laboring in the world with the belief that truth spoke for itself, and as long as there were people to defend it, there was still work to be done. Hope was rising in Colombia and we got to be a part of it’s ascent into the clear, South American sky.
Something became painfully clear to me as we stood in the square that afternoon: we were not there to fix anyone or anything as missionaries or Racers- we were there to be partakers in what God was already doing in every place we were sent. Our hosts Mao and Diana were already doing good and fruitful work but they didn’t want to do it alone just like this country was far from depraved or in need of chaco-wearing Americans. We were being invited into the exquisite work of a infinitely ever-present and capable God. He was just as present in that square without us as He was with our squad but He wanted more hands to use and more guests at the banquet He was preparing. And what happens when every person who is invited to the feast attends?
Well…it’s one hell of a party.
