We finished the field.
Yes, it’s actually finished.
The goals are up, the ground is somewhat leveled, the lines are drawn in white chalk – it’s finally ready.
But ready for what? I’ve found myself wondering. What’s in store for this place?
I can’t say that I know. But God and I had a little chat, as I was in the field working on pulling up some little tree stumps (which could impale bare feet pretty easily) and this is the conclusion He brought me to:
It’ll be used.
Used for what, God? I asked. Are you going to use this field to bring Nicaraguans to know who You are and how much You care for them? And I got a peace that said “yes” just as clearly as if He’d spoken it audibly. I don’t know what it’ll look like exactly. Maybe it’s just one step forward. Maybe it’s a tool to bring more people to this ministry that sits just outside of the chaos of Jinotepe. Maybe God’s working in the hearts of the locals who helped us build it. Maybe a game is more than a game.
I know that’s the truth here.
Because when you see how these guys light up when they’re playing; how much joy they get out of an intense futbol game, you see futbol as much more than just a game. While their source of joy is severely misplaced, they’ve got some God-given talent that brings them something to really be proud of. It’s something I think they might live for here…what else is there? They practice and play games and build relationships, and gain respect while learning to give it. At the end of the day, the game is what they look forward to.
Where would be a better place to pour into the gang members here than by creating a field where these guys’ hearts are? I’ve been humbled in being reminded of how God can use something like sports ministry to reach out to the otherwise unreachable.
There are two young men who really stand out to me…and also some of my teammates. There’s something different about them.
And it isn’t how they look – because they’re both somewhat intimidating to look at.
There’s something in their eyes that’s different. Something about how intently they listen while they try to understand my broken broken broken spanish…something about how they respect me in a way I don’t deserve. There’s something different about how their friends respect them and listen to them. One of them is named Peter. The other is Lester.
My heart breaks for them in a way that I can’t put into words. I really can’t tell you why I hurt for them; I know nothing about them besides the area they live in and what they like to do in their spare time. I know nothing about their lives; nor have I been given much reason to feel so burdened for them – no reason other than the fact that Jesus is burdened for them also. The whole “break my heart for what breaks Yours” gets a little overused, but it’s the cry of our hearts isn’t it? Because for most of us, if we’re honest with ourselves, more action comes out of feeling something. If we hadn’t felt a burden – I can’t say that I know for sure there’d be a finished field on site.
So…it’s a good burden. Because God won’t waste what came out of that burden; He will use it.
And so, I don’t need to know the details of what it’ll look like. All I know is that it’ll be really good – and that’s more than fine with me.
