Greetings from Granada, Nicaragua! We’re here at debrief, getting ready to depart for our next country: Honduras. Here’s the third and last part of my mid-month update.
In my last blog post, I talked about some evangelizing we did across town with a sister congregation as well as a homeless man who came to Christ. I had asked for prayers for him. Thank you so much to everyone who has been keeping Osman Cruz prayerfully on your hearts.
Shortly after these events, we left on a three-day ministry tour of the area. I was worried about traveling with my back (ref: Part I), as I’d only just recovered. But I had zero pain, and I didn’t have to take the pain meds or muscle relaxers at all. Praise God! 🙂
Our first stop on our ministry tour was a town called Tipitapa. Our team leader had cracked a joke that she was betting it would be cold in Tipitapa, because it was probably at the “tippy-top” of a mountain (badum-tschhh). So logically, I brought a long-sleeve shirt with me for the trip, my Nordic pants, thermal socks, my sleeping bag, all of which I didn’t need because these places were hotter than anywhere we’ve been on the entire Race.
Sweat poured out of us as we walked around, wondering where in the world we were going and what exactly we would be doing. We honestly set out on this trip without much clue on anything: not the weather, not where we would sleep, not the ministry or what that would look like—the only thing we did know was that these places were dangerous, and we were advised to leave anything of value back in Jinotepe. That included wallets, passports, computers, and some of my team refused to even take their phones or cash.
NOTE: This type of scenario isn’t all that uncommon for the Race. You just gotta go with the flow and trust that God has you securely in His Hand. Because even if you don’t know where you are or where you’re going, He does. And as long as you can trust your host (we knew we could trust ours), then you can keep confident. But it is always quite funny to think back and realize: We really didn’t know anything that was going on or what was planned or what was to come, but you know what? We made it! 🙂
We arrived in Tipitapa in the afternoon. It was a little over an hour away, and we were happy to get there and find a secure church location with bars on the windows and gates that locked. After a brief siesta and lunch, we split up into teams and went with sisters and brothers from the church to evangelize, hand out Bible tracks, and do home visits.
Our group finished a little early, and the brother who was with us took us for a ride on his bicycle-cart-thing that he uses for his job as a taxi driver (these man-powered taxis were very common in Tipitapa). He took us to a bridge where water runoff from some hot springs gathered and made a stream. There were a lot of large birds, and the whole area was very green and lush. It was lovely, and it was a real blessing to be able to see that.
Church was in the evening, and we all sang our special song (“Clama a Mi”) for the congregation. Katie then gave the message, and Kate played my guitar for mid-service worship that lined up with Katie’s sermon.
The service ran late, as some people wanted to stay and chat with the gringas. We were all really tired, and we still had team time to contend with, but we pressed on. As we were finally wrapping up team (nearing midnight – Brie led us in a study on the first two chapters of Revelation), Pastor Cairo came over to us and told us to be ready by 4:20 because church was going to be at 5:00.
Jaide’s eyes widened. “Church is…when?”
“At five,” Karen replied.
“In the morning.” It wasn’t a question, and yet Jaide had a big question mark etched on her face. “We’re having church. At five. In the morning.” When Karen nodded, Jaide glanced over at Pastor Cairo. She smiled meekly, question mark dissipating. I could tell she hadn’t meant to react that way, and she humbly said, “Cinco en la mañana. Okay, Pastor.”
Admittedly, we’d all been caught off guard by the announcement. I don’t think any of us had ever attended a five a.m. church service, but apparently this was a usual practice for this particular congregation. As a side note, Pastor Cairo liked the idea so much, he immediately instituted this practice at his congregation once we got back home.
Before the prayer service got started, someone snapped a photo of us messy-haired and bleary-eyed. We’d spent the night in the pews of the church and had literally just rolled out of bed for service. Despite our sleep-deprived expressions, the actual sunrise service went well, and I walked away reenergized and rejuvenated. In fact, I felt better than I had since arriving in Nicaragua! It was a pretty great day for me after that, and we were on the road for our next destination by 9:00 am.
The capital of Nicaragua is a city called Managua. We passed through there at the beginning of the month, and we were going back to help the ministry Pastor Cairo used to pastor before moving to Jinotepe. The bus ride was short—only about thirty minutes—and once we got to the bus station, we hopped in a cab to go into the barrio where we’d be staying.
The neighborhood was extremely impoverished. There were few trees, a lot of dirt, and many of the houses had been built out of tin paneling. Dust blew across the road, which was one of the most ragged I’ve seen on the Race, with lots of trash and potholes and other obstacles that made for a precarious cab ride into the barrio
Finally we came to a stop outside a lady’s house. I have no idea who the lady was—a sister of the church, I think. Maybe. I’m actually not sure.
This is what I was talking about when I said we really didn’t know what was happening or where we were going. I do know we were in some part of Managua, at some lady’s house, in some neighborhood that was apparently pretty dangerous—after we arrived, the lady said she had to go somewhere with Pastor Cairo; and as they were leaving, she said we were not—NOT—to open the door for ANYONE, not a single soul. “No hay NADIE!” she emphasized before she left.
So for the next several hours my teammates showered and napped and otherwise made themselves at home. I was exhausted, and I’d been fighting a headache since the night before. But for some reason I couldn’t go to sleep. My muscles were restless, and it’d been far too long since I’d worked out, so that’s what I decided to do. I couldn’t go outside for a run, of course, so I just did some basic circuits on the back patio. It was great, and by the time I was done and showered, Pastor Cairo was returning with lunch.
We spent the lunch hour going over a program for a school we’d be visiting that afternoon. Karen was going to read the Parable of the Lost Son with a few of the kids acting it out. Jaide and I volunteered to give our testimonies afterward, and it worked out perfectly because her testimony is similar to that of the older son while mine is more like that of the younger son.
We also played games and sang songs with the kids at the beginning of the activities. The kids were great and very well-behaved—the school was clearly impoverished, but these were some of the best-behaved kids we’ve encountered the whole Race! They loved the “Hello Song,” they were precise in acting out the parable, and they listened intently to the testimonies.
It was a really, really great afternoon, and to close things out, I asked if any of the children wanted to receive Jesus as their Lord and Savior. Two kids stepped forward, and the pastor of the neighborhood church walked to the front to do the repeat-after-me prayer. He did it loud enough for everyone to participate, prefacing the prayer with an explanation that anyone who wanted to receive Jesus could do so by repeating the words he spoke.
The whole class of kids (ranging in age, from 8-14) repeated the prayer in full, with the two who had stepped forward standing right in front of the pastor. It was AWESOME. I thought of Pastor Juan from Bolivia afterward and smiled to myself. We’d given a lot of presentations at high schools in Uyuni, and each time he always asked if anyone wanted to receive Christ. I think he would have been proud that I had thought for us to do that at this school in Nicaragua. 🙂
Our evening was spent at church. We sang our special song again, along with “Todopoderoso.” I couldn’t find my pick and ended up using a the pendant of a heart necklace I just happened to receive as a gift a few days prior (thank You, Jesus!).
Service didn’t end till around 8:00 pm, so it was a late dinner for us then off to bed to get some rest before our final day. We had another program to lead at the school, this time for the morning students (the kids don’t go to school all day like in the States…they either go for half-days, either in the morning or in the afternoon).
These kids were younger, and they weren’t nearly as well-behaved as the kids from the previous day. They were very rambunctious, and it was a challenge to play games with them because they were getting too wild, throwing each other on the ground, choking each other—we had to do a lot of crowd control to keep things running smoothly, but with a little teamwork we managed.
After games and songs, we did a presentation on the Good Samaritan. They were too rambunctious to act out the roles, so we just lined them up in two lines to play the part of the road while we acted out the rest. It went well, and afterward I once again asked the kids if anyone wanted to receive Jesus as their Lord and Savior. The local pastor wasn’t there that day, so Pastor Cairo led the prayer.
We wrapped up the program with “Cambiare Mi Tristeza.” We added a dance to the song, which required them to stand up…that’s when we lost control again. One group of boys started tearing into each other, throwing punches. Granted, these were pretty small kids (about 7 or 8), but the punches turned to wrestling, and it didn’t take long for several kids to get involved. Lesa was a huge help in separating them and getting them back on task. I did what I could, but I was probably more of a hinderance than a help, truth be told (I had my guitar strapped on and thus had limited mobility).
NOTE: For those who may be wondering, a lot of these schools just don’t work the same as at home. Kids come and go as they please. The teachers have little control, if any. I’m not even sure if there’s such a thing as “attendance” or record-keeping. If the above scenario happened at an American school, security would surely be called, and the kids would be sent to the principal’s office. But there wasn’t a principal’s office at this school. There wasn’t even a principal. Just a few teachers sitting around and chatting beneath the lone tree in the play area.
Despite all these issues, we were able to finish the morning strong. Lunch came and went, and then Pastor Cairo insisted on giving us a tour of Managua. He took us to a park—one of the most beautiful, high-tech parks I’ve ever seen in my life with a full size little league baseball diamond and stand!—a lake, and then we had dinner at the foodcourt of a nearby mall before heading back to Jinotepe.
All in all, our ministry tour was a big success. Many children received Christ as their Lord and Savior, and we were able to flex our kids’ ministry muscles again (something we haven’t done in a little while). We were also able to spend the night in a church (I’d never slept in a pew before, but now I can say I have!), we got to participate in our very first sunrise prayer service (there were more to come back in Jinotepe), and we were able to meet a lot of wonderful, very godly people along the way.
I said this in the last blog post, but I’m going to say it again: a great big THANK YOU to my supporters who have been financially supporting my mission and also supporting me through encouraging messages and prayers. I am so grateful, because without you I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to be here in Nicaragua on this amazing adventure having these amazing experiences. It’s because of you and my wonderful and perfect Heavenly Father that this has been possible.
So a great big THANK YOU again. With love, FROM THE HEART OF NICARAGUA.
