Mission Peru

by Laurel Gardiner

It's twelve am, Monday July 9th, and I find myself standing at the exact same place I was eleven days prior. It seems so long, and yet painfully short. Something has changed.

This week has been a whirlwind of emotion, from crying at the garbage dump, to laughing with friends. From getting sick and missing worship, to writing worship songs of own, there was so much to write about. But as I look back on the week, and I think about what Jeff Enns would describe as a "high" and a "low" of the week, there's one thing that made the trip what it was: the people.  People who were placed, individually, in circumstances that God used to bring together a group of the most special people I have ever met.  Over the course of this week I had the privilege of meeting these people, of talking to them, laughing, crying, hugging, and at the end of the week, even leaving. I believe it was Winnie the Pooh who said "I'm lucky to know someone so hard to say goodbye to". If that's so, I'm the luckiest person in the world, because these beautiful people were so hard to part with.

When we first arrived, I hoped that I would see the raw sovereignty of God in Peru, I just didn't know where. I looked for clues, and things that would bring me closer to the plans God has for me.  Now, I realize, I was looking in the wrong places. I was forgetting the power of a simple "I'll pray for you", or working in the trenches beside someone who was never supposed to come, but who God had directed in another path, and straight into my life, and even meeting an intern from the States who, over the course of an hour, changed my views on worship, one who showed such selfless kindness, and even people I had grown up with who showed wisdom, and strength beyond their years. I had been looking so desperately for an experience from God, that I stopped realizing that most of his grace was living, and breathing, and had come with me from North America.  

Leaving was undoubtedly the hardest part. I was aware of this from the beginning, but I had not idea what this felt like. As I sat, with tears wet on my face, memories filling my mind, and a tugging on my heart, I understood why people did this year after year. The construction will go on. The buildings will eventually get finished. And in the grand scheme of things, we didn't do a lot in regards to the compound. It was in the hearts where we did miracles. Where God used us to do miracles. Where God did miracles in us.

So, as I write this, leaving the place where everything started, I still feel a stab on my heart. When I left Peru, I left, what feels like, a big part of my heart. And though it's painful, God is filling that hole. He's filling it with the jokes, and the conversations. He's filling it with the songs we sang, and the memories we made. He's filling it with his hope, and grace. He's filling it with the realization that though we won't ever be together in body the way we were in Peru; we will be together in spirit. In His spirit. In His love. In His promise. In His plan.

All of creation is screaming his name. Our very existence should be enough to spark yearning to adore Him every day of our lives. I found the raw sovereignty of God, not in the experiences He presented me, or the challenges He put in front of me, but the people he used to impact my life. And I can honestly say they have. 

Yes, something has changed: We have.