A Week in Guatemala

From June 4-12, sixteen of us from Community Bible Church took a short term mission trip to Guatemala. It was an eye-opening, faith-stretching, physically-tiring, emotionally-draining, group-unifying, spiritually-satisfying experience stuffed into eight days.

I have been on short term mission trips before and each one has its own unique “flavor.” But this one was especially sweet. A good mix of people…young and old, single and married, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters…working in a variety of ministries…painting at an orphanage, doing Vacation Bible School, playing soccer, singing in Spanish, taking kids to the zoo, sharing our testimonies, showing Christ’s love…in a beautiful country…volcanoes, mountains, cool weather, gracious people, and great coffee :>).

I experienced the trip in several different ways.

As a father. I have led several mission trips as a youth pastor but never as a father of youth. On this trip, I had my two older sons, Nate and Noah, with me. It was a memory that I will always cherish. 3 John 4 says, I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. I not only heard that my children were walking in the truth but I watched them and ministered along side them. My older son, Nate, played guitar and helped lead worship. My second son, Noah, helped lead games for the kids we ministered to. Both of them took initiative. They made relationships. They got involved. They worked hard. They made an impact. I couldn’t have been prouder…or filled with more joy.

As a pastor. I am still new at this senior pastor thing. It is a unique role to be in. As a pastor, you feel the spiritual responsibility of an entire flock of people…and your incredible inadequacy for such a task. And as I got on the plane in Baton Rouge with 15 others from our church, I felt that responsibility and inadequacy even more. I didn’t have a clue exactly where we were going, what we were going to do, or how the week was going to go. I could only pray for God’s provision and protection and keep moving forward. Thankfully, the week went well and we were all protected on the trip. No serious illnesses, injuries, or problems. And God enabled me to get to know the sheep in my flock even more.

As a man. Men are not supposed to cry…or so we are told. But I cannot think of a week in my life where I cried more than I cried in Guatemala. I saw the depths of sin, hopelessness, and poverty and the heights of grace, hope, and ministry juxtaposed together. It was a strange mixture and it did a number on my heart.

I cried when we left the orphanage and I thought about all the lives that we touched there…and the lives that touched us.

I cried when I saw other team members cry.

I cried when we visited with the kids and their families at Kairos House, a place where families can stay while their kids are receiving treatment for cancer and other life-threatening diseases. The night we arrived a 12-year old girl named Alena had just found out that the doctors could do nothing else for her. As I looked at Alena with her frail body and short hair, I could see my sister who died of cancer in 1996. All I could do was weep.

Then at the end of the week, we watched a documentary on Guatemala called Reparando. After experiencing a week of ministry in Guatemala, the documentary hit home and the tears once again flowed.

There is something about crying that is hard to explain. In one sense, it is not pleasant since it is generally caused by unpleasant circumstances. But in another sense, it is cleansing, releasing, refreshing. It reminds you that you are alive, that your heart is still capable of loving, of feeling. I remember Gerald Sittser stating in A Grace Disguised (one of the best books on grief ever written) that sorrow enlarges your heart. I felt my heart expand in Guatemala.

As an American. Mission trips to foreign countries always remind you of your blessings in America. This trip was no different. I was reminded of how much I take for granted…adequate housing, clean water, abundant food, political stability, family, freedom, opportunity, prosperity. Watching hundreds of people scavenging through a garbage dump has a way of giving you perspective. Whom am I to complain? I am so blessed to have lived in one of the freest, most stable, most prosperous countries in the history of the world. Thank You, Lord.

But experiencing another culture also helps you evaluate your own. As an American, I tend to be wasteful. I have so much that I rarely appreciate what I have. As an American, I can also value results over relationships, tasks over people, meeting a schedule over meeting a need. It was refreshing and stretching to be in a culture where it is considered rude not to greet and personally say good-bye to every person in the room. It made for some long good-byes…and for some precious memories.

As a member of the body of Christ. The body of Christ was the theme that kept resonating in my mind on this trip. The beauty and wonder of the body of Christ. I experienced it with my church family. Spending every morning on a veranda studying God’s Word and praying together was one of my favorite highlights of the trip. It got the day started off on the right foot. It was better than a kick of caffeine in a cup of Guatemalan coffee.

I experienced the body of Christ with the Hispanic church in Guatemala. Even though I didn’t understand the words to the songs, I worshiped. I truly worshiped. The joy, exuberance, and hospitality of my Hispanic brothers and sisters overcame the language barrier and drew me into their fellowship.

And I experienced the body of Christ in ministry. Being used by God. Being joined together with other believers. Being Christ’s hands and feet.

I don’t know how people live apart from the body of Christ.

Well, that was my trip in a nutshell…and these shorts words don’t even do it justice.

There are just some moments in time when the season of your life, the state of your heart, and events of your experience seem to align in the center of God’s purpose in the community of God’s people. It is a glimpse of glory, a slice of shalom, a taste of heaven on earth.

And it’s better than a cup of Guatemalan coffee.

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