Once upon a time I lived for a few weeks in a coastal town in Nicaragua. I traveled across the entire country of Nicaragua in a school bus. Remind me to re-live that story for you some other time. Let’s just say it involved multiple Benadryl, random medical clinics, and one of my teammates falling over while she tried to potty on the side of the road. It was one for the history books.
Once we arrived in the tiny ocean town of Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua we were instantly in love. We lived in a house on stilts. Ate rice and beans for EVERY meal. Worshipped like wild people. It was glorious.
One of our many ministry options was to visit the local schools. Every day we trekked in and out of the building that housed elementary, middle and high school students. We loved the little kids. We sang hours of songs, taught memory verses in spanish and just generally had a right fine time. High school students were a different story. Similar to here in the States, they had better things to do then listen to a bunch of missionaries.
We were largely ignored by most of them. Despite their protests we continued to teach, love and patiently pray. And the last day at the school we had some breakthrough. As part of their culture, they are polite to a fault to thank visitors as they are leaving. A representative from each class stood to thank us, offer us a parting word and send us on our way. In the last class, a class of seniors, the guy clearly serving as leader of the pack stood to thank us. And out of his mouth came words of repentance, grace and love. He began to tell us how our coming to his school had impacted his life. He had seen love, compassion and understanding from us and began to apologize for how his classmates had treated us. As he continued he began to express his own interest in Jesus and this strange lifestyle that we represented. The more he talked the more his classmates began to nod in agreement. Suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of a high school revival. Repentance, prayer and praise began to break out. We prayed with at least 5 students wanting to know Jesus as their Savior. It was beautiful.
I will never forget my days in the hot Nicaragua sun as we held hands and prayed bold, beautiful prayers. Prayers that expanded the Kingdom of God and preached the Gospel. I am so grateful for those days. Grateful to you for sending me and grateful to the people of Nicaragua for receiving me. It was the family of God being lived out.
