After we arrived in the Dominican Republic I had the privilege of riding with a man named Miguel from the airport to our drop off point a couple of hours away. We made a bathroom/coffee stop about an hour into the drive at a little store on the side of the road. As I was walking out of the bathroom I saw a group of 4 Americans walking into the store…and one was wearing a RAZORBACK shirt! I thought I was dreaming for a second. All I could do was smile ear to ear and yell, “WOO PIG”! The group looked as surprised as me when they heard those words. I learned that they were from Springdale and Fayetteville and that they were in the country for a mission trip as well. My first hour in the Dominican Republic I run into a group of Razorbacks from Arkansas?
This trip is fate.
We were dropped off by buses in the middle of the Dominican,16 people hopped on the outside of a Nissan Frontier…and up the mountain we flew. As dangerous as the situation seemed, the sky was full of diamonds and I was in awe of the most star-filled sky I had ever seen. What a surreal moment.
Considering my only out of country trip prior to this had been to Americanized Cancun, the last week has been a complete sensory explosion. New geography. New language. New money. New music. New people. New everything.
We served in two towns last week, Guayabal and Los Naranjos, where we did door-to-door ministry. As the week went on I found myself becoming more and more frustrated internally. Door-to-door evangelism was something I secretly wanted to avoid this year. I wasn’t comfortable with it. About 98% of the time I had no idea where we were in the conversation with people. I like to build relationships.
Are they being followed up with? How can they really learn about being a disciple if we only talk to them once? Are they even understanding what we are talking about or are they just smiling and being nice?
I was operating in the mindset of my expectations. The Holy Spirit broke through and slapped me across the face on Thursday afternoon.
This trip isn’t about me. It’s not about my comfort. I’m not in control. It’s not up to me how the conversation goes. It’s not up to me to make sure the words are translated like I said them. And it’s especially not up to me to put the Holy Spirit inside the boundaries of my world.
God is teaching me just how much control I thought I had in my life. How can I do God’s work if I’m operating at my speed and by my comfort? I’m learning to let go of control and to hold things that I tried to control with an open hand.
I couldn’t understand any of the conversations but I could understand the smiles. I could understand the eyes full of hope and joy. I understood thankfulness painted on the faces of the people after we prayed for them. I was missing that when I was stuck inside of my world. We didn’t pray in Spanish but that didn’t matter. Our prayers were being heard and felt. The Holy Spirit is the universal language and I can rest peacefully in that.
