Our ministry in Nicaragua was rather busy. It was all-squad month, meaning all fifty people on the squad were all staying in one church in Granada, and every few days we rotated to different ministries around the city. Some days we did manual labor. Other days we helped at a nursing home. Still, there were days when we ran feeding programs or various other things. Every morning was a fun game of “Where the heck are we going today?”
However, my favorite ministry to work with took place away from Granada. Because of housing limitations, the church we were staying with only had about 35 beds. To remedy this problem, every few days we would rotate people traveling two hours by boat to Isla Zapatera: a small island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua inhabited by about 300 people. There we aided in the construction a church for the community of believers who for years held services outdoors.
I would love to try to explain what this island was like, but I will never be able to fully explain how incredible the people were. Despite their simple lives and extreme hardships they experience every day, they still have so much passion for the Lord; so much joy in their hearts; so much fervor in everything they do.
I think their zeal for Christ is best described by the way they worship and pray. On Saturday night, we joined them for a worship service. Now, I’ve been to some pretty intense worship experiences in my life, but never have I seen something like that night. They had no band to “usher in the Spirit.” There was no powerful message to convict people of sin. They had nothing that typical American churches would use to help create set the mood. There was simply: worship. Passionate worship. Everyone worshiped in their own way. Some yelled. Some cried. But the hunger for God was inexpressible.
Some people took that time to pray. They were so grateful for what the Lord had given them. So thankful for all He has provided. It wasn’t until the service came to a close that I learned what they were praying about. They were praying for us – the 15 American missionaries.
I was dumbfounded. Here we are trying to help them and show them God’s love, and here they are praying blessing over us. They told us that ever since they heard our squad was coming to Zapatera that they were on their knees everyday praying for our safety. Praying that we would not be sick. Praying that we would not miss our families while we are away all year. Praying that we receive God’s blessing for the sacrifice we are making to serve Him.
I had to take a step back. What are they talking about? These people live on dollars a day. Their bathroom is a hole in the ground. They bathe in a lake. And yet, they are willing to look past their current situation and pray guidance over us. Their kindness overflowed and turned into joy. I was completely astonished. These people showed me what it truly means to be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy” (1 Peter 1:8).
Unfortunately, my time with these people on the island was cut short. On the second day we were there, I developed a case of Pink Eye. Now it wasn’t necessarily a bad infection, but because sanitation on the island was pretty much nonexistent (we didn’t shower or wash our hands for four days) and because the nearest hospital was two hours away, everyone figured we better play it safe and get me away from everyone.
Now the only problem was actually getting me back to Granada. Thankfully, Pastor Ulices came to my rescue. He just happened to be running errands the next morning that included going into Granada. He took it upon himself to make sure I was taken care of. At 2am the next morning (Yep. That’s right. 2am), I climbed back on to the boat and we set off on another long boat ride. We made a few stops along the way, and the entire time, I was able to stare up at the clear night sky and gaze – through my crusted, infected eyes – at the glorious heavens that God created.
It was another beautiful sight. Stars lit up the night sky. The moon slowly made its trek overhead. Off to my right, a storm was emerging a few miles away. Lightning was striking off in the distance. Just as I look back, a shooting star raced across the sky. Four hours went by as I listened to worship music and entered into a quiet peacefulness with my Father. Oh how loved I am. Oh how loved we are. Even despite hardship and pain, we have a High Priest who understands our weaknesses, and we can boldly approach His throne to find grace in our time of need.
So as ironic as it sounds, I praise the Lord for Pink Eye. While it might have taken me away from a community that I had grown so fond of, it allowed me to experience a love so genuine; a love that points to the never ending love of our Savior.
