Upon entering Guatemala I quickly realized that teaching English is way too big of a job for me. I can’t do my normal ministry of watching the dynamics of a group, seeing who is on the outskirts, and trying to draw them in. Instead, on day one I was asked to jump in front of a class full of loud voices and strange faces. Their eyes mirrored my own uncertainty, curiosity, and nervous excitement. An added bonus to this new ministry is that the kids hardly understand anything I say. Insert some more blank and confused faces.
I told myself I couldn’t do it.
“What can you teach them that is going to make the slightest difference in their life?”
“Your voice is too quiet.”
“You don’t have the charisma to keep the attention of these little ones.”
These questions and doubts barreled through my mind at breakneck speed. The first couple days of class I felt defeated and inadequate, I would walk out of class and wonder how I could teach every week for three months. Inadequacy is a crippling feeling and I allowed it to fill me with fear and diminish the power of God in my life.
I started counting down the days I had left of teaching. I didn’t want the time to pass quickly, but it was difficult to find joy when I felt as though all my efforts were leading to naught.
“Why am I here God? This teaching is a weakness of mine, not a strength.” As I ran to Jesus with my doubts and insecurities, He gently whispered to my soul what He thought of me and the ministry here in Zone 18, Guatemala.
“My power is made perfect in weakness.” (Corinthians 12:9)
“In quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15)
In God’s perfect way, He reached down, calmed my anxious heart and held me until my trembling knees learned to stand with His confidence and peace.
When inadequacies, doubts, and fears come knocking, sitting at Christ’s feet in quiet trust is my answer. The one who gave His life for me will surely fight for me. My role as a disciple is simple: trust in who He is and obey what He tells me to do.
It doesn’t matter that teaching isn’t my strength, Christ will use me. If I get to see the end result, great, but if not, I will rest in the knowledge that I am part of something much bigger than myself.
Now, as I walk into my classes and am greeted by smiles and an accented “Good morning teacher!”, I no longer feel inadequate or let the lies that I can’t do this enter my mind. The joy of the Lord is my strength. I have learned to laugh when I make mistakes, because it happens everyday. There have been countless times when I ask the kids to repeat something and they either ignore me or stare back with blank faces – although I was glad that nobody was really listening when I tried to teach them that a bird was an airplane, not an animal.
Another thing I have come to realize is that sometimes the ones who completely ignore the English lesson are also the ones who are quickest to smile when I see them outside of class.
As I continue to learn how to better serve my students and show them in my own way that they are loved and so extremely valuable, I remind myself that my strength and ability comes solely from Jesus. It is in His arms that I rest and His care that I hand over this ministry. Thankfully, I am able to say that I can see Jesus’ love invading the rough edges of my students. The shy smiles from the boys now come more quickly and the hugs and kisses of the little girls are abundant.
p.s. Sorry these posts don’t have photos. My internet connection has never been good enough to load the pictures onto my blog. I am trying to post some on Facebook so I’d recommend heading on over there. 🙂
Also, if you have any questions please comment them below! I’d love to do a post answering your questions if possible.
