Justo a tiempo 2

So this is my second blog titled Justo a Tiempo. I didn’t plan on this and you may wonder why and you may even wonder what it means in English for my non-Spanish speaking friends. Justo a tiempo means right on time. I got to Cordoba with the letter for Mary justo en tiempo. And this past week God sent me some much needed love and encouragement justo a tiempo.

Last week I woke up with bug bites on my stomach. And then the next day they seemed to spread from my stomach to my back and then to my neck. This seemed to top off the difficult week I was having. It had gotten to point in my ministry where I felt very lonely. And I was realizing that I wasn’t made to do ministry alone. Even Jesus Himself did ministry with others for He had His 12 disciples. At this point I felt that it didn’t matter that I had been thoroughly immersed in the Mexican culture for 9 months, I still couldn’t completely relate to my brothers and sisters here. The students are my age and have the Holy Spirit living inside them but we still see the world a little differently because of our past upbringing. Whether I like or not, I am a product of my culture. I was raised in the beautiful U.S. I grew up speaking English. I grew up eating pop tarts. I grew up in an air-conditioned house. I grew up with a washing machine. I grew up in a town with nearly a church on every other street corner. I grew up driving a car by age sixteen. I grew up watching TV and playing on the computer. I grew up in an affluent society where you were taught that your dreams were within your reach with hard work and education. Now when I accepted Christ as my Savior, He changed everything. I saw the world with a completely new perspective but I still have my American customs and this American default mindset. Anyway, all this to say that there are differences between the American culture and the very distinct cultures of Mexico. And sometimes I feel misunderstood in daily conversations. I guess what I am trying to say is I have to work a lot harder at my relationships with the people down here because we have to cross over cultural lines. I wouldn’t give anything for my time here, I have seen God work in my life and through my life in ways unimaginable but there comes times when all I want is to curl up beneath my electric blanket at home or eat some Cheez-its and talk about LSU football or about Garth Brooks returning to the music industry. So here I was in Mexico, feeling lonely and with bug bites that itched like crazy. And God in His great mercy sent me help justo a tiempo.

“When is the next American group coming?” I asked one morning in Dan’s office.
“Actually, there is a small group of college aged students coming Friday.” he coolly replied.
I perked up instantly. “Where are they from?” I inquired.
“Christ fellowship” he answered as if the name of the church gave away the origin and I was ok with that. I didn’t press further; it didn’t matter to me if they were from Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Kentucky, or Ohio. I was just so excited that some people my age were coming down.

I stayed up late that Friday night, reading a John Piper book on my couch, until I heard the van pull up and people unload. I had to calm myself down before I left my room because I didn’t want to scare the weary travelers with my enthusiasm and excitement of seeing and meeting people that looked like me and talked like me. So I opened the door and my eyes peered out into the night looking for the six young people. I found them unloading their suitcases next to the apartment building. I immediately walked over, introduced myself, grabbed a handle on the remaining suitcase, and followed them to their rooms.

“So where ya’ll from?”I asked eagerly.
“We’re from Shreveport, Louisiana.” one of the girls answered.

I can’t tell you how unexpectantly and how sweet the name of my hometown rang in the dark night. And that’s when I thought, “oh, that’s why Dan just said the name of the church when I asked him where they were coming from. He thought I would know that church.” It all made sense now and I was ecstatic about people my age and from my own hometown spending the week with me. Thus began one of my favorite weeks here Mexico.

Mallory, Ashley, Tommy, Allyson, David, and Patrick came into my life justo a tiempo. This week God used this team to touch many lives here including my own because their mere presence was a sweet medicine to my soul. Two of the girls were my age and in fact one was a teacher at a school that I was looking to work at. The coincidences and the friends we had in common was ridiculous to the point of being very humorous. They worked mostly at the school this week, doing construction projects but we did go to a village in a mountain for a church service and to watch some baptisms. Only two from the group had been to MITC before so it was great to have some newcomers. I really enjoy watching Americans experience Mexico for the first time, it’s just something special and unique about your first time at MITC and anyone who has been here knows what I am talking about. It’s just something about your first glance at the incredible snow-capped volcano on Jorge’s roof, or it’s just something about the voices of the students as the praise God before each meal, or it’s the joy you find in washing dishes with the students after the meal, or it’s the sweet smell of exotic flowers, or the sound of birds in the morning, or the taste of your first Manzana Lift or a chocolate Emperador cookie, or the love you feel in church on Sunday morning. It’s just something about experiencing these things for the first time that captures your heart and burns a desire deep within that will not be satisfied until you return to God’s Mexico. And I pray that these dear friends of mine would return to God’s Mexico soon. Thank you for coming and ministering to God’s people and ministering to me as well. Your presence here this past week has had ripple effects which are still being felt and enjoyed today. Que Dios les bendiga.