Dominican Dreams (Installment #1)

The Beauty of the Blessing

 A week ago my missions team flew back to the States from Santiago, and I’ve dreamed of the Dominican every night since. I can never remember what it’s about the next morning, but I wake up in a color-splashed afterglow with familiar faces, voices, and laughter ringing in my internal ears, and I know my heart spent the night at least partly elsewhere. Funny how fast you can fall in love with people in new places—their hearts, faces, scenery, culture, language. Their openness.

I'm the gal top left with the crazy dancy hair...see me??? :)

Most of the ministry and outreaches done by La Casa Grande would never work (at least, not as effectively) in the States. This concept firmly rooted itself in my mind as I watched our repeated performances. We Americans aren’t too willing to stop and listen to street-corner preachers. With our social state, we’d be a bit wary of someone who uses a smoke bomb as part of a drama. We might pause for a moment to watch a drama, but… where are the lights? The fog machine? The multi-media presentation? Our expectations obscure the message.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I wonder what we could receive if we could admit that we don’t already have it all.

Tonight the memory lingering in my mind resounds with ear-numbing volume, like the church we visited that Sunday morning: The phrase I heard most often in the communities we visited was “Dios le bendiga,” or “God bless you.” Maybe we feel like we say that a lot here in the United States—but in Dominican Christian communities, they’re so eager for God’s blessing that the greeting, exclamation, or thankful expression may be repeated three times in a single conversation, or more in a sermon. What’s the proper response? Well, here in the States, we usually say “Thank you” or “You too.” For the Dominicans, however, it’s liturgical. “Que Dios les bendiga!” the pastor or interpreter exclaims, “Amen!” the people reply.

“Amen.” So let it be. This really struck me because, instead of voicing passing thanks, what it does is point the focus back to the God who does the blessing. Amen. So let it be. I accept it eagerly, and I’m open and waiting for rain.

How often are we truly waiting in agreement with the Spirit of God for Him to move and truly bless? We take blessing so generally. I believe God does want to bless us in general—but what if He wants to bless us specifically as well? What if the concept of blessing goes beyond something we accept and forget? Maybe we can view our blessings in His everyday kindnesses—things like having a place to stay on my strange overnight leg of the trip from Denver to Miami, or the gentleman who both put my bag into the overhead storage on the plane and brought it down again when we arrived, letting me go in front of him in line. In Scripture, blessing occurred not for food or after sneezes. People reserved blessing for other people and for God. I believe we can bless God when we leave ourselves available to Him for His use and His blessing (both of ourselves and of others through us).

Everyone who goes on a missions trip says they come away feeling ministered to on a personal level (another blessing!), and I know I have. I spent time relatively immersed in the Dominican language and culture. I developed existing relationships and new friendships, spending time I treasured with my brother Jonathan. I had the opportunity to play with kids, take lots of photographs, and connect with people on their own ground. And as with any extended period of travel coupled with spiritual openness, the adventure brought to my attention plenty of areas with room for personal growth.

I even received the same word of knowledge from two new friends. Susan Haddad, from another group who stayed at La Casa Grande with us, told me that God will open my heart to all the things, new things, He wants to do through me. And Jhon Cruz, a faithful helper to Tim Johnson and the rest of us as well, hailed Conrad to interpret for him, telling me not to limit what God wants to do in me. Neither of them had any idea of the other’s words, and neither knew how much I needed to hear them. Something was birthed in me during the experiences of this trip, and my spiritual self reawakened with a passion that the rest of this summer had effectively quenched.

I can’t wait to see how their words apply. But until then, with Dominican-church enthusiasm (though maybe a bit less volume), I say Amen! Lord, I’m ready—so be it! May I be poor enough in spirit to acknowledge how much I need despite how much I have.