These are the reasons that our Lord compels us to Go Ye into all the world, whether literally or via finances or prayers. These are the reasons that He compelled me to Ecuador this past August. These are the faces of grace.

 

The girl in the yellow—her name is Karen. She stole my heart. I may never know why. The words she spoke to me were lost in translation. But when she grabbed my hand and held it tight, begging me wherever she went—that language, I understood. Though she wasn’t possessive, her eyes spoke clearly, loudly, you belong with me. Love compels. That’s all I know. He bonded us and four months later I feel an ache that must be akin to a missing limb, a third world country away.

 

Felix and Josselyn are brother and sister. They were the first of the nine youth counselors at kids’ camp who bonded with me. Of the nine youth counselors, they were the only two who spoke English fairly well. I was drawn to them immediately by their undeniable love for Christ. Being in their presence meant being in His. During our last night in the Amazon, I talked at length with Felix and Josselyn. The use of pen and paper and sketching out word pictures might’ve been used to translate. Bless their hearts. They were determined to communicate with me. “Would you want to move here?” they asked me. I gulped hard but I’m not sure I ever answered. I told them that I would learn Spanish. No, I promised them I would. They’ve certainly worked hard at learning English. It may come easy for many, but I’m going to need the Lord’s help with this. Terry is on the far left. He and I were the only new team members on the mission trip. Terry left an impact on my life that has forever changed me. And I’m certain that he impacted those youth even more so.

 

Three amigos, Jonathon, Jimmy and Andres.

 

Andres, I was told during the trip, had recently started using his other name, Lider. This is what we called him. It’s a good fit. He’s a natural leader. Not only did he exhibit this during kids’ camp, but I’m told that at the age of 21 he has taken on a strong leadership roll in his family and works well with his siblings as well as his nieces and nephews. He was never without that amazing smile. During our team meetings in between camp and our other excursions, we discussed our next order of business and talked about various needs and circumstances among the children and youth. The missionaries, Francisco and Nita, told us that three of the youth, Jenny, Jimmy, and Jonathon were planning to be water baptized. This would be an awesome example and testimony for the younger children. However, Jimmy and Jonathon, we were told, were not certain they were ready. As a team, we talked at length about water baptism and what it signifies. Cisco and Nita were very determined to ensure that the meaning was clear. We discussed the importance of water baptism by submersion subsequent to salvation. Some of us mentioned that we’d been water baptized twice. During our meetings, Terry and I gave our testimonies. As part of my testimony I talked about divorce and condemnation and premarital pregnancy. Often, as Christians we struggle with condemnation. This likely played into my choosing to be baptized in water a second time. It’s not necessary, however. It’s not a work required for salvation either. Clear understanding of why this outward expression of an inward work is required generally reflects a clear understanding of salvation. It was my impression that Jimmy, namely, struggled with condemnation. Our team prayed specifically about this. When the time came, we were told that only Jenny would be baptized. Burdened heavily for Jimmy, I quickly found a Spanish Bible and opened it to Romans 8:1.

There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

“This is for you,” I told him. He nodded slowly, drinking in the words with his eyes. I prayed he would see, you are not condemned, you are in Christ, you can be baptized. And you are not condemned if you choose not to be baptized today.

 

We rejoiced as Jenny was baptized by Francisco. The old man went under, the new man came up. Such an amazing example, beautiful testimony to every wide eyed child there that day. Jimmy and Jonathon stood watching. But then,

 

Jimmy stepped up. The words spoken in response to Francisco’s asking first, if salvation was sure, and then why he wanted to be baptized, were lost in translation. It didn’t matter. They were read on his countenance, read by his obedience.

 

And then Jonathon stepped up. The weight, the burden of sin and guilt, is exchanged at salvation. It was conveyed on that glorious day in Ecuador by the example of water baptism. I count it an honor to have witnessed this expression on the faces of these three amazing young people.

Just as Jesus was driven into the wilderness and tempted following his water baptism, it seemed that Jimmy would face his own battle of temptation in the Amazon. Many of us, including Jimmy, had eaten a delicious shrimp dinner at a local restaurant. We were unaware that the ingredients included soy sauce which Jimmy is highly allergic to. He began to swell not long after dinner. Just prior to our planned mission to visit children of a remote tribe, we were told that his swelling was severe and his throat was closing. Jimmy was taken to a local hospital. We prayed and then continued our mission with the exception of Francisco who stayed behind with Jimmy.

As I’ve mentioned before, this was the one of the best and hardest parts of the mission trip for me. The picture below does not fully capture the mass of children and parents who showed up that day. I cried behind my sunglasses.

And I smiled radiant joy. Meeting this baby girl below was one of the most profound moments of my entire trip. Andrea, an Ecuadorian woman with us, translated for me as the parents explained their baby girl was only three weeks old.

 

“Nombre? What’s her name?” I asked.

“She has no name,” Andrea explained. They had not yet named their three week old baby girl. The couple continued their conversation with Andrea. She looked at me, translated for them, “You name her. You give her a name.”

I felt eternity pass as I stared at that precious baby girl. She reminded me a little of Courtney, my middle daughter. Courtney had dark, straight hair with bangs just like this baby. We called Courtney papoose. Although it felt as if time froze, I didn’t hesitate an answer. Abandoning all consideration for Spanish names, I blurted out, “GRACE! She is grace. She is the grace of God.” And then I look at Andrea, “How do you say Grace in Spanish?”

“Gracia.” Grace in Spanish is gracia. Of course. Just one letter away from gracias—thank you in Spanish.

This is what I’ve learned from Ann Voskamp over the past two years. We see what God gives as grace, and we give thanks, then joy comes. Eucharisteo.

The parents nodded as Andrea shared my suggestion. I may never know if they chose the name of Grace for their baby girl. But they gave me a gift that day. That baby girl is indeed grace. All of those children are grace. I am so thankful for each one of them.

We were heartbroken that Jimmy missed out on this mission. He was too. But God is all knowing, Sovereign Lord. We learned later that as Jimmy’s airway constricted and he struggled to breathe, the doctors had explained to Francisco and Nita that the medicine he needed was not stocked at the local pharmacy and would have to be obtained from a nearby town. Treatment that day cost only a few dollars; however, medications needed weren’t kept at the government funded hospital. Nita ran to the nearest pharmacy in hopes that the doctors were wrong. Thanks be to God, they were. She made it back to the hospital with medication and  from Jimmy’s account, she gave him the shot. His recollection, of course, was fuzzy. But by nothing short of a miracle, the doctors and staff received that medication just in time.

Jimmy’s swelling hadn’t fully reduced once we’d left the Amazon and unfortunately he didn’t make it to youth meeting our last night in Ecuador. I did have a chance to speak a little broken Spanglish to him over the phone, but I was a little heartbroken that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye.

But God saw fit to bless me. On that last night in Ecuador at the youth meeting, Jonathon and I had our first full {albeit broken} conversation. I had communicated less with this seemingly shy young man than some of the other youth. That night during the worship service I cried a river. Our flight was just hours away and I felt the weight of leaving those amazing kids and young people behind.

Jimmy handed me a ring and pointed to the word written on it: amigos. “Friends forever. This is for you,” he said. I nodded and cried. Then he said, “You—my friend, my sister, my mother.” And then I hugged him. And cried some more.

It’s been over four months since I left that beautiful country and I’m still processing the details. God has opened my eyes and my heart to a people as a whole. He’s opened my eyes to the children of Ecuador. But the bonds that I’ve had with some of them specifically have awakened me to the love that Christ has for us individually.

Every one of those children, those young people, are precious to Him. Every one of them, grace.

There’s a world beyond our four walls. There’s a harvest of souls and it’s ripe. It’s time for the laborers to work.

Therefore said he unto them, The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few: pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers into his harvest. ~ Luke 10:2