Frankly, ministry since coming to Nicaragua has been tough. We’ve been doing a ton of door-to-door evangelism. With that type of ministry already being one of my least favorite, I have been grabbed by the throat and dragged out of my comfort zone. Also, we are in groups which most times are two or three times larger than what I prefer to deal with. It’s easy for me to have the age-old thought that “this would happen just the same without me here”. It’s not a feeling of being un-known or insecure. I feel it’s just flat out too many people for the job. In spite of all that, I’ve been semi-rolling with the process of evangelizing and praying for sick people and not sick people. A lot of the time I have just been going through the motions. I hate that.
Two nights ago we had a time of squad worship and communion. While I was praying, I began crying out to God emphatically, telling Him if I do these works with no anointing, it’s pointless and it’s all a waste of time. I must pray and walk in the Anointing. The next day, everything changed.
Our team leader stayed home for one reason: God told her she can’t go because when she’s with us, the rest of our team isn’t stepping up to the plate, and that won’t change unless she’s not present. So, she stayed back and interceded for us instead. The moment I found my team leader was staying home, my gut sank. The level of discomfort the thought brought me showed clearly I wasn’t operating in my fullest potential. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide anymore. The dread I felt led my heart to its knees. I had intense conversation with God the entire truck ride to ministry.
When we arrived, things felt different. I felt our team was more alive, and ready to take ownership of the ministry which was about to happen. As I trudged through the thick dust covering the trails connecting the village homes, I asked God to give me a word for somebody, whoever it was He wanted me to talk too. I knew I would know who that person was. The “one” was at the second stop.
There was a young man there who had at one point been a believer but fell away from the Lord and became involved with drugs and alcohol. The instant I saw him, I knew the Lord had a word for him. I waited for my time. The presence of God came thick into the room as my team mate shared her story with the young man. All the words spoken went straight to his heart, and he could barely restrain his tears. When it was time, I delivered the word. Even though we did not get to lead the young man back to Jesus, I know the words and prayers spoken over him will remain in his mind. God will not stop pursuing him. The Anointing was present, and that is what mattered. Later in the day I got to pray over two different children with special needs. One of them peed on me while I was holding her and praying, but it didn’t much matter. I was Jesus’ hands holding her a few minutes.
This morning on the way to ministry, I was talking to God again. This time I asked him to grow my faith and my trust in Him. I surrendered my lips, my hands, my feet- every part of me – to Him. As I prayed that prayer, I subconsciously knew growing and stretching comes only through challenges and sometimes really hard things. After an hour and a half of traveling through beautiful country side and villages with a volcanic backdrop, we arrived at the school where we were to teach about substance abuse. Knowing that teaching anything of this sort was not my forte, I assumed the role of support, or attendance, to the ones of my squad who did know what to say. That assumption didn’t last long. It was asked of my group for one of us to share the Gospel, after the talk about alcohol and drugs. Because I did it yesterday, I thought maybe this time I could get away with being silent. A sort of turmoil aroused in my heart as I stood there quietly. Soon, two of my team mates called me out separately, both saying they felt God gave them my name. Done deal. I involuntarily volunteered.
My heart almost dropped to my toes when I realized I would not merely be speaking in front of two dozen five to ten year olds sitting on a concrete slab. Instead, it was to be in a church, in front of a whole slew of upper grade school students, my entire squad, probably at least a dozen locals who traveled with us, the local pastor, and a few others. I had no idea how to share the Gospel with them, because I felt boxed in by thinking “share only the salvation story”. My dear team leader immediately had my back, declaring truth over me and promising to pray. She also suggested I share whatever I want to share, not necessarily just about salvation.
I ran to my Father, pouring my heart and it’s fright out to Him. I knew this was Him growing me in the faith and trust I asked for only an hour before. I knew trusting meant not having my words planned out, but instead allowing Him to guide my tongue completely, thus making it be not my words flowing from my lips, but His. Still, I had to know where to start.
As a squad, we were invited to the front of the stage to introduce ourselves. I looked over the sea of faces and immediately, God said four words to me: “You are worth loving.” I knew with everything inside me, those are the words God wanted me to speak over the students, and that’s how I was to begin. I leaned against my Father’s chest, humbled because He gave me words, yet so needy because I had only a very general idea of what else I was to say. He told me not to worry about the rest of the words; I need to trust Him. I said “Okay.”.
When it finally came my turn to speak, I jumped up onto the stage instead of standing in front of it. (I needed elevation in front of all those people.) I opened my mouth, and God filled it. When I was finished, I asked the pastor to take over, I jumped off my perch, and I knew God had spoken to that room full of people. None of it was me. By the time everything was finished, handfuls of students accepted Jesus. Each of the their names and info was recorded for the local pastor, who will disciple them from here.
The words I could keep writing are endless, but I’m going to close. What you have read is a blog, and only a blog. If you want a way to receive additional details, send me your email address. I periodically communicate that way, and when I do, I write greater details and additional stories.
Also, in order to reach my next fundraising deadline on February 29, I need $952. If you feel you want to sow into the work of the Kingdom by supporting me financially, know it will be very appreciated. I am continually amazed at the support you all show me through finances, prayers, and words of encouragement. Thank you a thousand times over.
All my love.
