Americans can speak Spanish, sometimes

Week 1 God moment

It’s tough to describe a conversation and communicate the grandeur of God, but it's worth an effort:

Picture this: I’m whitewater rafting in the middle of the Costa Rican rainforest. I’m with one high school graduate from Tennessee, three 20-something year-old women from Mexico, and one whitewater guide from Costa Rica.

The high school grad and I are not the centerpiece of any conversation, as the other four are certain that we don’t really speak Spanish, regardless of our countless attempts to show our proficiency in the language. However, 45 minutes into our trip, I ask the three women if they’re on vacation in Costa Rica. And, out of politeness, they’re forced to ask the question back.

I tried to answer with, “Well, we’re here doing mission work.” Instead, in my can’t-speak-it-too-quickly-or-else-I’ll-mess-up grasp of the Spanish language, I answered with, “We’re here doing missionary work.”

“Oh, are you a missionary?” One of them politely questioned.

“Well, actually, yes.” I stumbled upon that answer, kicking myself for not speaking correctly in the first place.

“How long have you been a missionary?”

I pause, think about how ridiculous I’m about to sound, and respond with, “About one week.”

Everyone in the boat got a good laugh about that one, but then I had them. For some reason, the Spanish-speaking American in the front of the raft became the most interesting aspect of the whitewater rafting tour through roaring rapids and lush rainforest. All four of the true Spanish-speaking boat riders were leaning in as I began to explain my story of why I am in Costa Rica and what kind of work I am doing. But it didn’t stop with me just talking. They started asking.

“What church are you with?”
“What have you been doing this past week?”
“Have you been a missionary anywhere else?”
“Why didn’t you stick with accounting?”

The questions just kept on coming, and we had a great conversation. In the end, I said that there was a lot of work to be done here in Costa Rica, and that it will be hard to accomplish. So one of them replied, “Yeah, but that’s why you have the power of the Spirit.”

I was blown away. After 45 minutes of near silence on our raft, God appeared in the conversation. And, the worst, or best, part about it was that I had to stumble into his presence, because I didn’t have the fortitude to directly tell the rafters that I am a missionary (partly because I’m still coming to grips with that fact myself).

I got off that raft with a smile as wide as the country of Costa Rica itself. I was beaming that I was able to share my story, and the story of the mission team I was with. And this is just week 1.

God provided me with the perfect opportunity to share his heart for the Costa Rican people, and to share his undeniable truth. I now wait in anticipation to see how many marvelous and spontaneous God moments await me in Costa Rica.