Mission Peru

I missed this place. I missed the little hands which squeeze with all their strength. I missed the sweaty kisses that taste sweeter than any candy. I missed the local leaders and the boldness for Christ they carry in every circumstance. I missed the deep belly laughter that comes with trying to dance through language barriers. I missed the hard working hands that made our rice and to perfection. I missed walking along side groups of teenagers who witness extreme poverty for the first time and realize that they cannot return home living the way they have been living. I missed the smells, the sights, the sounds, the country but mostly the people. I missed this place and these people.

This journey has been beyond extraordinary. This week meant the happiest of reunions, new friendships and gentle reminders from God as he shaped the hearts of his children. This summer I had the privilege of being called back to the place that captured my heart when I was a high school student on Mission Peru in 2012. Being an intern for Inca Link was both the hardest and most fulfilling thing I have yet done. For reasons that I don't quite yet understand, the opportunity for me to intern came at the seemingly most inconvenient time that it possibly could. Those borderless places we ask God to lead us to in trust? Those waters he calls us to walk out on to? That presence he draws us into? Sometimes that can happen at times we would rather it not, those times where we might be so sure we belong on the boat that we absolutely refuse to take just a few steps out onto the water in order to get to Jesus. This was often the tension I felt I was resting in this summer. Being in Peru, being called into trust, into his presence and into his power over injustice was where I belonged this summer, even if I thought home (my boat) might be where I belonged instead.

There is a cool thing that happens when being in Peru when it’s not overcast. It's in the mountains. This summer, (their winter) every once and a while the clouds would clear out, I would go to the roof and I would look around me, breathless. The country which I loved but hardly ever found aesthetically appealing would, all at once, become the most breathe taking view I ever laid eyes on. Behind the usual fog, the clouds that covered the sun and the smell of smoke- is the beauty in the midst of the brokenness. It is in the mountains. They don't seem to end. You can go a long period of time in Peru without having any idea the beauty that you are surrounded by. Perhaps you've seen them in Ray's photos. I certainly can't describe them in words. My point is that this summer I didn't always know why God wanted me on the water and not in the boat. I didn't always feel like I had stepped out in obedience but rather confused what I thought was His voice for something else. But instead of showing me all at once that I had, he slowly and in His perfect timing revealed to me the beauty of His plan. He didn't show me all the mountains right up front, he made me wait. I still don't think I've seen them all and that is okay. As my heart breaks for this city once again, I am reminded that my vision for it is foggy and clouded. I am reminded who the God of Trujillo really is.

Thankfully, when words sometimes fail us, music can weave together the pieces of our hearts that we cannot seem to say. As I reflect on all that God has done this week and is yet to do in Trujillo I reflect on the lyrics of "City of Hope".

Once we were a barren land
Dry from disappointment
But Heaven, like a heavy rain
Revealed Your heart for us

Now we're dusting off our instruments
In You we've found our will to live
What was once a wilderness
Is teeming with new life

You are mending the broken-hearted
You are making all things new
You're rebuilding out of the ruins
A city of hope with the ones You love

Adoption is our heritage
Chosen from the orphanage
The Father's great inheritance
Bestowed upon us all

Till next time, Peru.