I flew out to the Dominican Republic on an alarmingly early morning on June 15th, meeting up on my connecting flight with a group of strangers with whom I would share my life for the next week. I had no idea what to expect or not expect – this was my first medical missions’ trip, even my first trip outside the US. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, I showed up for our first day at the clinic ready to see life change, ready to see God move mightily. Most of the day consisted of interviewing patients, doing physical exams, handing out ibuprofen, deworming agents, and the occasional medication for something more complicated. I found that my initial fervor waned when it was placed in front of real people. In theory, evangelism and spiritual care sounded like something exciting, something I might be made for. But I was anxious. Anxious about how to speak, what to say – across languages and cultures I didn’t want to miscommunicate or “ruin” the delivery. What if I missed out a part of the Gospel, what if I offend them? That first day was rather discouraging. At least until I was stuck next to someone on the hour-long bus trip back to our hotel, his name was Huck. Huck was a dentist and I automatically liked him for his wit and his humor. After having short, easy conversation with him I found myself unable to keep that I was unsure about how to talk about Jesus to these people. I told him that I was slightly disappointed with myself and what I had done that day in the clinic. God placed Huck on that trip for me, for that specific time. He listened carefully and then offered his own wisdom, mature and helpful from his years of walking with the Lord. He reminded me that God calls whom He calls (Romans 8:30-31) and that He has no need of my perfection. The power of the Gospel rests in its intrinsic nature, not on my performance. The only required thing was my obedience, for God’s power is magnified in my weakness. I went back that night and wrote in my prayer journal, asking God to give me boldness and courage. I asked for His Spirit to lead me, to keep my eyes fixed on the truth that God gives the growth. I merely plant or water – the end result of fruit depends on His mercy and not my eloquence. The next four days at the clinic were altogether different than the first. Did fire come down from heaven? Did He raise people from the dead? Did I speak in tongues? No. But I saw His power. I saw it in the prayers I was able to pray over a believing mother who desperately desired her husband to be saved. I saw it in the young woman who heard the Gospel, believed, and repented. I am sure Heaven rejoiced alongside us. I saw it even in the young lady who wanted to hear the Gospel but whose family was so entrenched in voodoo that she could not leave her circumstances. Yet the seed was planted, and I could walk away knowing I was faithful in what was given to me. God gives the growth. Story after story over the next few days confirmed what Huck had been speaking to me about on that bus trip back. Often times we feel that the weight of the world is on our shoulders, and that can cause us to freeze. Or to give up altogether. Or to have unrealistic expectations that lead to disillusionment because they were tied to our abilities. But that weight can only be carried by Christ – and it was. My first trip to the Dominican Republic will certainly not be the last. I look forward to the day I might return as a physician and mentor some other young Christian who is eager in the faith.
