Something Hard, Something Unexpected, Something Wonderful

Alright…prepare yourselves for a blog of epic proportions. This past week has been the strangest, most wonderful, weirdest, most confused bunch of days in my life. I feel like it’s lasted a month or two. I’ve talked to quite a few people about it, but I still haven’t gotten all my thoughts out—so now I will write to you. Let me begin at the beginning.

Last Saturday (the 13th) Hannah and I got on a plane and flew to San Pedro Sula, Honduras for a mission trip. I have to admit that for the first day or two I really didn’t want to be there. It was tough to see the things we saw and do the thing we did; I was disgusted with myself for this selfish behavior and also for the way I doubted God.

Then, on Monday when we did our first day of vacation Bible school with the kids at the state orphanage, Nueva Esperanza, I really started to enjoy what we were doing. I began to truly love the kids. I began to love my team (including our translators and bus driver). On Tuesday we took our little bus up to a new orphanage/school and had lunch with the kids there before we began work on digging a ditch in the hard clay (I still have the blisters to prove how hard I worked. I had fun. Maybe I’ll forget about college and dig ditches for a living. Maybe.).

That night we--the team and the translators—about eighteen of us in all--slept in the mission house provided by the orphanage. At 4:30 in the morning a masked, armed man came into the room Hannah and I were sleeping in with five other girls. He was in the room for about a half an hour. He had us give him our money, and then he rummaged through our stuff. He molested a girl. When we had the chance to run, we took it and woke up the rest of the house (which had stayed asleep for the entire event). One of the translators actually caught the man and grappled with him, and as a result was shot in the toe.

The day was full to the brim with waiting. Waiting for everyone to pack up. Waiting for the police. Waiting at the hospital. Waiting at the police station. Waiting for lunch. Waiting to check back in to the hotel room. We waited with mixed feelings of sadness and happiness at the thought of being sent home three days early (they flew us all home Thursday instead of Saturday).

If it sounds like a rough day, that’s because it was (I’m not going to lie), but that doesn’t mean that God was missing from a single part of it or that we were miserable for all of it. Because He wasn’t and we weren’t. During the day, in the days following, and even now I’m still looking back and finding new evidences of God’s presence in the experience.

He blessed every single one of us with incredible strength and peace (even in the presence of our enemies). He gave all of us joy and laughter (and stupid jokes). He proved to me once and for all that I truly do trust Him fully and believe wholly in Him. He gave me seventeen new friends (a few of whom I now feel like I’ve known for years and wouldn’t give up their friendships for the world). He drew all of us nearer to Him. He gave us a powerful testimony so that we may continue the work that we started: saving souls. He even gave us hope that we might get to return and finish what we left so incomplete. (As an added plus, Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife were praying for us personally. I just thought that was kind of neat.)

There were so many other things that He did—so many things that could have gone wrong or been worse. As someone said in an email to the team: “God allowed it to happen, but with very clear boundaries. This far and no farther...just as the Lord holds back the oceans from crossing too far over the shore. Nothing happens to God's children without God's permission.” It’s very true. I can vouch for it because I saw it with my own eyes.

There’s a bit more to this strange week that I don’t feel like talking about just yet—but it’s a good thing, I promise. It has been a bizarre week. A weird and wonderful week—to say the least.

Anyways…that’s it. I’m no longer as young or as innocent as I once was. I’m no longer as blind. But I still have a lot of things to work through. I’m not emotionally scarred or anything, I’m just struggling with little things like selfishness and crankiness and a feeling of let-down-ness and what-to-do-next-ness. I came off the mountaintop and now I’m in the valley (but don’t let me deceive you, it’s not completely dark down here and there’s company—God works here just as he does up there).

As further proof of God’s goodness, He put it on my heart before we left to memorize Psalm 23. I did, and it was (and still is) a comfort to have it hidden in my heart. Before I write it out here for you to read, let me just say:

Don’t forget that Jesus has overcome the world. Don’t forget that in Him we are more than conquerors. Don’t forget that if we have Jesus, we have no reason for fear. Don’t forget that He is good. Don’t forget that He is strong. Don’t forget that He is completely willing and totally capable of rescuing and protecting those He loves. Don’t forget that He loves us. And don’t back down.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”