started to cover my feet.
bush and a couple chickens pecking around. Kids playing in the street would stop and stare at us as we
walked by then start back playing as soon as we had passed.
That’s when I saw the man.
He was sitting on a concrete slab. We were about twenty yards out and I easily made out the
ragged, wooden crutches lying up against his side. The closer we got, the more details I could make out. He was an older man, who had obviously
seen his share of the sun. His
skin was tight and about as tanned as it possibly could be. He was not wearing any shoes and his
feet were worn and swollen. His
pants were stained with grease and his button down shirt was unbuttoned down to
his stomach. He set with a hunch
and did little to pay us any attention.
A voice whispered into my ear, “Stop and love this man. Tell him he is My child and I Am with
him. Pray over him, bless and anoint
him.” The closer I got, the
stronger the voice reverberated in my head.
I walked by, making eye contact and seeing the hopelessness
and sagging eyes of a man who had little to live for. His eyes dug deep.
I turned my gaze to peer into the doors of an empty Catholic sanctuary,
donned with decoration and empty seats.
Statues of saints glared back at me in the matter of seconds it took for
me to move my gaze elsewhere.
He asked for nothing and we left offering nothing.
Would you believe me if I told you that we were leaving an
unforeseen tropical paradise?
We had spent the weekend at the beach getting pounded by
waves, lounging in hammocks, drinking chocolate-banana smoothies, playing beach
volleyball and eating some of the best food of the month. And yet, the place carried such a weight
of darkness that I found myself drained and longing to spend each moment
digging into the presence of the Father.
I had made friends and talked to people who were drunk and
high and looking for a so-called good time. We talked about home in the states, why we had made it to
Guatemala, scratched the surface on faith and beliefs and even managed to speak
missions.
Both nights we were there, I fell asleep staring at the
thatched, leafed roof listening to the club music drown out my thoughts. Each night I prayed for boldness and
the words to say and each morning I sat in a chair Bible open, avoiding most
contact and listening to
God speak to my soul.
I even found myself in tears, broken in the brokenness. And yet I went about my day, not
ditching opportunities but instead numb, trying to figure things out.
I am not sitting here sulking, because I was there for a
purpose. I learned so much about
the process this weekend. I
learned that I am fed up in passing up.
I learned that I am on this journey desperately seeking the presence of
God. I learned that I am not
afraid of darkness. I learned that
six broken people could stand amidst the weight of darkness and declare that
the Kingdom of a Mighty God will reign right here in the brokenness.
I have been hung up on Jesus’ first two sentences in
John. First he says, “What do you
want?” What is it that you
want? Do you know or do you think
you know? His second sentence is
powerful. Seriously stop… Soak
this in!! Jesus follows, “What do
you want?” with, “Come and you will see!”
Why is that?
I came to Guatemala thinking I knew what I wanted. I am leaving knowing that what I want
is nothing compared to what I need.
I honestly don’t have to know what I want because I know that what I
need lies right in the Heart of God.
That is where I am heading.
That is where I long to be.
Once again I find myself in tears, desperately longing for the heart of
God to overwhelmingly flood into the nations.
I spent the ride home finishing a book called, “Passion for
the Heart of God” by John Willis Zumwalt.
Go figure right? If you
have the opportunity read it, Amazon that sucker. It has totally wrecked my world and is well worth your time.
God gave me a vision tonight. I saw that man with swollen feet entering that Catholic
sanctuary, a toothless smile. He
took off dancing down the aisle proclaiming that he had encountered the life
changer. He declared that the desolate
and dark is done for and that the small village of Monterrico would be a beacon
of hope and redemption. Nothing in
that man wanted to be still and I found myself laughing. Seriously, a laugh grabbed my breath
and struck a chord down my entire body.
Month One has come to an end. And I will forever be in gratitude to this small country of
Guatemala for starting a journey that will blaze a path for my future. I read a quote from a pastor from back
in the day that said, “Expect Great things from God. Attempt Great things for God.” Hah So good!
Do you find yourself longing for the Heart of God?
Do something now!
