Guatemala Travelogue 2

When we last saw our heroes…also known as the band of rough riders, limping forward…hang on…that’s just Eva. Ok, now you know. Our 2nd full day here in Guatemala started bright and early again with devotions, breakfast, and more testimonials. Again, we’re having such a straight-up precious time together each gathering.

Monday was deemed a work project day…which continued on Tuesday and Wednesday. The basic task is to paint the outside walls of the SETECA dining hall, including windows and trim and replacing the window screens. Sounds so simple, si? :) Of course, we first had to scrap all the peeling paint off the stucco walls, wipe them down, and then spray with vinegar…while some of the group built the replacement screens/frames. Couple hours, right? Spoiler alert…we’re still working on it 2 days later. But we’re making good progress. We’ve learned a lot of great lessons on how to tackle difficult projects, how to work as a unit with 15 people, and overall patience as we inevitably make mistakes and have to take the time correcting those. It’s going to look awesome and will be such a satisfying project to complete that will be a blessing to so many. We are hoping to fully complete the task on Friday.

We’ve also enjoyed eating lunch with some of the seminary students and professors/administration each day…and practiced our espanol…uno mas Coca Cola sin azucar, por favor! :) I also learned how to say one of the most important phrases: mi comida favorita es mantequilla de mani con manzanas! But for real…in spite of Senor Paul not understanding WHY that’s the most important phrase, everyone who knows Eva will validate said claims.

I wanted to share a brief life lesson that the Lord placed upon my heart during those initial hours of paint scraping on Monday. As I alternated between the floor-scoot and the squat-shuffle, I noticed that the paint never came off the same way twice. No matter how much I attempted to adopt the best form or keep things fluid, in order to achieve the most productive results, there was never any rhythm of motion that consistently worked. Sometimes the paint came off in large chunks…sometimes it came off in small patches…more often than not, it came off in the tiniest of specks. Further, there were even times that it resulted in taking a gouge out of the stucco wall! It never happened by being careless or distracted. It didn’t happened by being too rough or aggressive. There were just some places in the wall that had a defect of some sort that was revealed when the outer layer of chipping paint was peeled away.

I’ve never claimed to be a Plato or Mother Teresa so this won’t be that profound to many, if any of you, my favorite friends. But as I moved very slowly down that wall, growing frustrated with my lack of progress, the Holy Spirit brought this little illustration home to roost. You’ll know where this is going to land before I say much more, but I’ll still share so I can look back on this in the future.

There have been many times in my life when God has had to chip away at my “outer layer of paint.” Whether as a result of external circumstances through no fault of my own or a result of my own lack of care and maintenance…the paint is faded, often chipped, always in need of repair. Not gonna lie…it’s a pain. It’s not fun, it seems to take FOREVER, and I would give anything not to go through the process. Nevertheless, the work must be done. God seeks to refine me, to peel back at the comfortable layers with which I’ve covered myself so that He can start fresh with new growth and new progress…and, it must be added, new beauty.

In that pruning, I experience much frustration, much sluggish progress, and so much pain. And yet, He continues.

Every now and then, the scraping away happens in large chunks and bring immediate relief. These are times when I can be tempted to actually revel in the sanctifying work of the Lord in my life.

More often than not though, it happens in small, imperceptible pieces. This is where the rubber meets the road, so to speak. It overwhelming, unnerving, and beyond frustrating. The pain is also pretty severe…maybe because it feels like it may never end.

But then…every now and again, the process takes a large chunk out of the wall, revealing a major issue…that will require a major patch job. These moments are completely debilitating. They sideline you. They threaten to undo you from your innermost being. There are almost never words to describe this personal gutting and undoing.

I find myself wishing we could just live the wall alone. Truth be told, I wonder if it’s worth it. Left to my own devices, I doubt the new paint would even have been purchased in the first place. But the project must be done. The need is great, both for our ultimate good and His ongoing glory.

So as I meticulously worked my way down that wall, I found myself asking the Lord to grant me the grace to endure the scraping…to make me grateful for it. I may never come to the place where I sincerely rejoice, but I do know that the deepest beauty will come if and when I do. And I do know that I’d rather have the discomfort and pain of the loving hand of God than to be left with the peeling, chipping, falling apart version of Eva without it. May we all seek His profound beauty in our lives, more than our own love of comfort and safety.