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Somewhere in her mid-twenties, she was no older than I. The pastor’s wife had introduced her to me, so I could hear her story. Sarasu (not her real name) was a peaceful and happy woman, someone that God was obviously using. But her journey with God hasn’t always been comfortable.
The small, silent presence beside me has a name I'm sure, but I have yet to learn it. I must be careful not to turn so suddenly that I jar this mini-person whose head barely reaches my waist…. Four, maybe five years old. Yes, I asked, but he doesn't reply verbally. He only responds with large luminous eyes. Tiny fingers rest on the edge of the laptop as I set up the projector and untangle the connecting cords. Dark curls the color of cloves frame the upturned face that watches every move I make. He seems to stay just within the length of my shadow, but out of reach of a hug. So I try to send love through my smile, and acceptance through my broken Spanish phrases.
My mind ponders this package of life beside me. I wonder what he feels, and pray that as he grows his comfort and guidance will be drawn from our Savior. He lingers until all is cleared away, then follows me out to the jeep. "Buenas noches" I call, but something keeps me from climbing in. Turning back in the dark and bending low, I reach out to offer a hug. Instantly his little arms are around my neck, and he places a moist kiss on my cheek. Seconds later he has disappeared in the darkness, unaware that with his kiss he stitched a precious memory into the quilt of my heart.
Widowed for only four months, she needs extra hugs. So the meetings being held in her yard bring more people around to distract and comfort her healing heart. She shows me worn and funny-colored photos of her late husband, and tells me how wonderful he was. She recounts the long, painful illness of the tumor in his leg, she sighs resignedly; the sound seems to deflate her small frame. Words cannot express the comfort I wish to share, so I just hold her in my arms and pray that God will patch the ripped-up part of her heart.
She peeks out from behind the banana tree, her giggling eyes tickle my heart. When I first came she would hide from me. Her abuela informed me that she thought I was a clown, because Americans had recently come dressed as clowns and had frightened her. But now she will sneak up behind me to poke me in a little game of tag. After a few days of tag I swing her up into my arms during song service, and she doesn't wiggle! As she rests content in my arms, I marvel at the sparkle of life I hold.
Years have weakened his wiry body and slowed his steps but the Holy Spirit has touched his heart and now it burns with passion for our Lord. Each evening after the program he comes to thank me, and I hug him and accept his whiskery kiss.
His lap is usually occupied with a sleeping child, but he comes each night to listen with a soul-hunger for the Word of God. His life is very difficult. Caught in the frustration of extreme poverty, trying to support his wife and family, and needing surgery for a hernia… I don't know the half of the burdens his heart carries. But I see the joy of Christ glowing from his face, and sense the peace that God planted in his soul that enables him to balance the cares of this world.
Her exotic beauty clothes a trembling heart longing for understanding. Religious tradition and superstition have a stronghold in her mind, and yet I can sense her desire to find freedom in Christ and to understand truth. Her hugs are strong – an expression of her tenaciously determined grip on life.
Encouragement glows from his understanding heart because God has given him the same passion for sharing the gospel. When my computer acts up at the very moment I must start preaching, spiritually I began to hyperventilate. But then he kneels beside me in prayer. A calm cool breath of peace refreshes my mind, and the computer becomes normal again.
I came to share Christ. I came to preach His word. I came to do mission work. … But God directed my eyes to look underneath the dirt, behind the wrinkles, through the rain - into the rainbow of colors He is mixing on His palette.
Jesus is the small silent presence beside me….
Jesus receives my hugs….
Jesus tickles my heart with laughter…
Jesus kisses me through the whiskers…
Jesus shows me peace through storms of trials…
Jesus hugs me firm and tight…
Jesus kneels beside me to pray…
I came to the Dominican Republic on a mission to share Christ… but God has deepened my perspective with new shades of dimension. Each shade of color in my picture of Jesus has become a deeper and more vibrant hue.
"But now there are many members, but one body… Now you are Christ's body, and individually members of it." 1 Corinthians 12:20,27 NASB. |
