Side 2: Conversations in Bri Bri

I feel eyes on me. I have a backpack on. I’m not in gentrified Costa Rica anymore. Spanish is everyone’s second language here, second to Bri Bri. The name of this town is Bri Bri. The people are Bri Bri. The language is Bri Bri. I am an American who has taken high school Spanish, and Rasta, our local leader, just drove me to this indigenous mountain village near the Panamanian border to pray for people. I sit down at a bus stop. 

 

 

What am I doing? 

 

 

Crucify the flesh, crucify the flesh, crucify the flesh. 

 

 

My Spanish sounds ridiculous. Someone is laughing at me. I laugh too, but I know they were not laughing with me. 

 

 

Does it matter? Isn’t the Gospel infinitely more important than what people think of me? 

 

 

But who would listen to a foreign stranger on the streets anyway? What do I think I’m accomplishing here, anyway? Ignorant American teenager. 

 

 

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. 

 

 

I remember the conversation I had with Jordy, one of the staff here, last night. I translated his testimony from Spanish to English. It was the first time I’ve ever translated for anyone, and I messed up every other word, but he was patient and it was just with some friends. Jordy has endured so much pain in his life. At rock bottom, he had been kicked out of his home, without a family and struggling with depression. Then a stranger approached him and invited him to church. It was the starting point for Jordy to get connected with that church and later come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. In the years following, Jordy has done incredible things with the strength of Christ. Now, both Steven and Jordy are on staff here at the YWAM base, and they are best friends. He is such an incredible leader for our squad here. And the turning point in his story started with a stranger. 

 

 

Ok. I do look ridiculous. My Spanish is comical. I don’t know what’s going on. But there is a woman waiting for the bus with her son over there, and I’m going to go talk to her. Her name is Karena. She would love prayer. She would love prayer. Pray for her family. There is a man smoking a cigarette outside. His name is Luis. Luis loves the Lord, I think. The thing is, Luis talks very fast and mixes in a lot of Bri Bri into what he says. But I just keep nodding when I hear “Dios,” and he talks to me for close to 45 minutes. It is strange, but God still has me here for a reason. Georgina sits at the bus stop every day, not to catch the bus, but just to meet people. She is 90 years old and speaks an English dialect that I can piece together because she grew up in the Dominican Republic. She reads cards for a living. I ask her about the Lord. She knows some things about Christianity, but she wants to know more about Jesus. We talk and laugh and pray. I hope that the Spirit moved in me during our conversation, and that He is moving in Georgina’s life as well. 

 

 

The great part about all these conversations is that I live here now, so for the next three months I can keep coming back and to talk with them and love them and keep learning more about them.

 

 

The concept of “crucifying the flesh” has been incredibly relevant in my life during the past three weeks. The bible talks about how, since Christ has been literally crucified, he has set us free from sin and in so doing made a way for us to “crucify our flesh,” or die to our old, sinful ways of living. In resurrecting, Christ made a way for us to resurrect into spiritual life with a relationship with him. My flesh really cares about what other people think of me.  But every day we are called to put our flesh to death and walk in the freedom that God has given to us.

 

 

And of course, producing fruit does not give us salvation. But there is nothing sweeter than walking in obedience when the Holy Spirit is literally inside of you. Who wouldn’t want that? Thanks God.