Here Are Some Times
Sometimes ministry is working alongside an incredible pastor, praying for people in the hospital, sharing the gospel and loving on the women in a drug...
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Sometimes ministry is working alongside an incredible pastor, praying for people in the hospital, sharing the gospel and loving on the women in a drug and alcohol rehab center, and serving cookies and coffee to the elderly in a park.
Sometimes ministry is playing soccer, with real uniforms on a field surrounded by spectators and vendors, having no practice or experience in the game as we take the win against an actual Honduran team.
Sometimes ministry is dancing with, praying with, breaking piñatas with and listening to the mumbled spanish stories of the wrinkly people of a nursing home in Antigua.
Sometimes ministry is laying bricks, putting on roofs, digging trenches, sweating over a stove in a clustered kitchen, or washing dishes with murky water.
Sometimes ministry is sweeping up soggy fruit loops plastered to the floor.
Sometimes ministry is swinging, braiding hair, chasing and holding little kids.
Sometimes ministry is exchanging bracelets with a little girl on a crowded bus ride.
Sometimes ministry is walking the hot hills of an indigenous village, inviting locals to a church service.
Sometimes ministry is making homemade lasagna for the host family.
Sometimes ministry is eating that homemade lasagna with the host family.
Sometimes ministry is building a fire, lighting candles, searching endlessly for ingredients for s'mores, and singing songs of worship with your peers.
Sometimes ministry is going to the market with our chefs, then treating them to a fun lakeside lunch.
Sometimes ministry is making tortillas in a local shop.
Sometimes ministry is buying ice cream for the little girls in line behind you.
Sometimes ministry is yourself.
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Sometimes there's 60 of us gathered closely on our mattresses and pillows for a movie night, spilling
popcorn and enjoying the wind blowing over us.
Sometimes we hike with our pants bunched up as high as they can go as we trek through a rushing river under the plethora of stars and through the dancing fireflies in the blackest night to a worship service.
Sometimes we stay up late packing our bags by the light of our headlamps after a last minute notice of our move to Guatemala the next morning.
Sometimes I hide away in my bed watching movies on my laptop and eating Nutella.
Sometimes we sleep in hammocks, sometimes on the floor, sometimes in tents, sometimes on beds in hostels, sometimes on bunks in dorms, sometimes in resorts and sometimes wrapped up in mosquito nets.
Sometimes we wake up to someone playing guitar in the corner, strumming with a smile on their face in the flooding sunlight of the room.
Sometimes we wake up to the rustling through of packs, to the gasps coming from intensely cold showers, or from someone getting sick in the night.
Sometimes we come to breakfast with eyes blurry of sleep, only to have them cleared by the majestic view of the volcanoes and mountains enclosing Lake Atitlan.
Sometimes we're sprawled in the air with hearts in our stomachs and stomachs in our hearts as we spend the day cliff diving.
Sometimes we find ourselves renting mopeds and blazing through the mountains at scary speeds.
Sometimes we're perched on the balcony watching the sun rise and lighten the new day.
Sometimes we're asleep by 7:30pm, exhausted from a day not even 12 hours long.
Sometimes midnight slips past us as we watch and photograph the movement of the stars.
Sometimes we're sitting lonely on rocks, looking out into the water and casting questions onto the Lord.
Sometimes we're in sessions trying to wrap our minds around the concepts of our spirits, souls and flesh, trusting the Lord, discerning His will, and plainly His unfathomable love for us.
Sometimes we're crashing wifi in every cafe and bakery within walking distance.
Sometimes we're told that the only rule is that we can't leave the country.
Sometimes we're told that the only rule is that we can't leave the property.
Sometimes we're waiting 8 hours for a bus to come.
Sometimes we're circling towns at 3am for a hotel.
Sometimes we're eating dinners of cookies, chips, and gatorade at 11 at night.
Sometimes we're thankful for vegetables.
Sometimes we're zip lining through the sunset-reflecting clouds in between two volcanoes.
Sometimes we're sorting through pounds of clean underwear finally returned from the dry-cleaners.
Sometimes we're homesick.
Sometimes we call this home.
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Everyday our clothes are wrinkly and smell of travel.
Everyday we're promised something more than us.
Everyday we encounter God differently.
Everyday He's after our adventure-loving hearts, and everyday we're trying to be after His.
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