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Love is a Language

One thing I was anxious about before this mission trip was the language barrier. My two years of Spanish in high school did little to prepare me for a month in Costa Rica. Even so, I’ve been able to communicate and form relationships. You might be asking how that was possible. Well, as the Beatles would say, “All you need is love.” Or—to quote a more accurate source—John 13:34-35 says, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Because of the love of Jesus in me, I’ve been able to communicate with so many people. I’ve also seen the love of Him in other people too. While I haven’t fluently spoken with anyone in Spanish, I’ve had plenty of conversations with people. Love is a language in and of itself. I’ve seen love communicated every step of the way on this trip. Here are some examples:

Having a local woman usher three strangers into her backyard so we could have a better view of the wild monkey she wanted to show us in her tree. 

A pastor’s wife inviting you into her home to cook dinner for all 15 of us (Coke and muffins included).

Having a broken conversation with two preteen girls via my poor Spanish and Google translate, but still learning about their desires to be doctors, telling them God is my best friend, and hearing that they love Jesus. 

Laughing and joking with random kids on the street while playing a pickup soccer game with their bare feet, rocks/a piece of fruit/an empty water bottle for goals and a flat soccer ball. 

Seeing a 2-year-old boy dancing alongside us as we practiced our choreography for the dance competition at debrief next week. 

Shoveling enough dirt to fill the bucket of an excavator and having the local men high-five you and say “very good” with the biggest smile. 

Hugging nearly every member of a congregation before the message and getting kisses on the cheek even though everyone is hot and sweaty. Sidebar: Don’t take for granted your air conditioned churches or even a church with walls, for that matter. 

Having a group of church women cook every meal for you for a week so we could focus on building the church building and resting out of the sun (they were very insistent about the latter part). 

Seeing a pastor tear up during his sermon as he talked about how much he saw Jesus in us and that a piece of us will remain in his heart even after we leave.

Going from complete strangers to calling the 72-year-old man you’re staying with ‘Grandpa Jorge.’

Feeling the Spirit move during worship time even when you don’t understand a word the people are singing or praying. 

Being fed an abundance of food and coffee at a church daycare because we were guests even though resources weren’t overflowing. 

Laughing and working with a farmer all through the jungle in Panama. 

Seeing so many hands go up when a pastor asked his congregation who’d be willing to have us stay at their house again.

Getting chocolate cake on the house at a restaurant because the owner is a member at the church we’re serving at. 

Y’all, I could go on and on and on. I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced a month full of so much love, especially considering the fact that most of the people I encounter don’t speak my English language. They do speak in love, though, and that’s my favorite language of all. 

My roomies for the week—Kayla, Shelby, and Jenna—with our new Abuelito. Eventually, what you see in the background will become the church building we helped with for the week. 

-E

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The real, messy faith.

Talamanca

The real, messy faith.