Roughly three
and a half years ago I took my second trip to Guatemala, I went with my sister
and a group from our church, as a team we meet weekly for about 3-6 months
before the trip to pray, prepare, and establish community and unity for what we
were about to do. As that team we spent about a week serving in the mountains
of Guatemala and ministering as best we could to all those we came in contact
with. By the time we came home most if not all of us felt like family or at
least close friends, and had gone through what most people would call a life
changing or once in a lifetime experience. It’s crazy how it works but that’s what
the mission field does to people, whatever the trip happens to be it’s nearly impossible
not to be changed by it in some way.
In my time
getting ready for that trip I wanted more than anything to feel a connection to
Guatemala, the connection my sister and several other members of my team had
talked about, you see I didn’t feel it the first time around, that trip was
about something else for me, so I was sure on take two I would finally get it,
have that life altering I need to move here kind of moment, but simply put I was
wrong. And if you had asked me then what that trip was about I would have said community,
we did a lot of good work while we were there, we served our purpose and
blessed the ministry, but what I missed most when I got home was not Guatemala or
the ministry we were serving it was my team and the community we lived in for
that week together, you see I’ve never been a super social person and I’m not
the best at making friends, but I’m not really a loner either and I don’t like
doing things on my own so in that moment in that community I felt like I belonged
and that’s what I wanted to hold onto.
But when we
came home life happened, instead of sticking together and living like the
church we stared living our lives again, myself included. So from event after
event, to circumstances and countless situations life took its toll and our community
fell apart. People made stupid decisions that drew them away from God and the
people who loved them, some chose different paths or churches and moved on with
their lives and others simply faded gradually, no bold statements or conscious
decisions but three and a half years later I don’t really know them anymore,
and out of a group of 16 people I’m more than facebook friends with only three.
So why am I writing
all of this? And what does it have to do with my most recent trip? Well for
starters I’m writing it because it’s what happened, I might not like it, I might
not be proud of it but it’s part of who I am in a way, when I got home three
and a half years ago my trip was about the people I shared it with, but if you
asked me today what that second trip was about the people would only be a small
part of it because maybe in that season I needed that community but now I belong
to a different community and that old one no longer exists. That may sound
harsh and by all means it should not have turned out this way but it happened and
I learned from it and I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes and that’s what
it has to do with my most recent trip. But also when I look back on that trip
now what I remember most is that when we left God told me I would be going back
to that place and I did…
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