Walking in Surrender

This Wednesday, our team spent an afternoon at Parque de Bolivar which is about a ten minute walk from our ministry host here in Medellín. There was just something about this afternoon that had me so ready and excited to go and talk to the individuals that crossed my path that day.

I was talking with a few girls from Venezuela with one of my teammates and squad leader when a man came up and asked if we had any food or money. I had left everything at the foundation so the only thing I brought with me to the park was my Bible. I said no but as He was walking away, my heart felt so heavy to go speak with him.

I ran over and told him that although we didn’t have any food or money, we had brought a few thermoses of coffee with us to the park and would love to share it with him. I ran back over to where some of my teammates were sitting to pour him some coffee and when I looked over, I saw him wrangling a little boy of about 2 or 3 years old around the park. 

When I brought his coffee over, I learned that his name is Luis* and the little boy is his son, Sebastián*. They came to Colombia from Ecuador* and when I asked how long they’d been here, Luis was unsure of exactly how long but only that if Colombia didn’t work out, they would just move on to the next city or country and try their luck there. 

I came to learn that Luis came to Colombia to protect Sebastián from his mother’s attempts to get rid of him. He said that Sebastián was two years and seven months old, but had yet to speak a word. I saw the exhaustion in Luis’ eyes and demeanor as he tried to hold a conversation with his full attention at the same time as caring for and chasing his toddler around in the middle of a crowded park. 

I looked into the eyes of a father who only wanted to provide a better life for his boy but was continually striking out in a world full of brokenness and broken people who are just trying to make ends meet—and my heart broke. My heart broke as I was hit with the realization that this is not the life we were made for. We were not made to live in conflict or poverty or running—we were made to live a life resting in the father and His perfect creation, but that seems so much more difficult when it seems so impossible to survive in this world.

I handed him a small track about Fundación Ciudad Refugio and told him that just a few blocks away, there was a place where he and his son would be welcome and met with the resources they needed. A place where Luis can worship while his son attended Sunday school. A place where they can be fed, loved, known, and met exactly where they’re at.  

What was difficult for me was not being able to do more for Luis and Sebastián—but what I could do was pray.

For the days that followed, I was in constant prayer for Luis and his son, that whether or not the Lord led them to the foundation this weekend or the next, that He would bring them to a place like Ciudad Refugio. That they would find what they needed wherever that may be and that they would be reminded that the Lord’s wings of protection and banner of love are over them whether they’re in a hostile, on the streets, or back in Ecuador. My prayer for them was that they would find refuge and peace wherever they are, and I was able to seek peace in knowing that although I don’t know their full story or the severity of their situation, the Lord knows them, their stories, and their situation intimately. 

Fast forward to Saturday evening. My teammates and I were hanging out in our apartment before dinner when one of the men in leadership at the foundation came to our door and asked who was at Parque de Bolivar on Wednesday. He informed us that one of the men we had spoken with was waiting for us in the bakery on the first floor to go share with him a bit about the foundation and show him the love of the Lord.

My heart leapt. I was so hopeful that it was Luis, that the Lord had brought him to foundation—what an answer to prayers! 

So, one of my teammates and I immediately got up and went down to the bakery and as I stepped through the door, I looked around for Luis and he was no where in sight. Instead, there was a different man, José Manuel*. 

We were able to sit down with José and have the coolest, most life giving, most truth filled and profound conversation. We got to meet a man, who was living deep in his sin, right where he was at, answer the hard questions that had been gnawing at him, and speak life and truth into a discouraged heart. 

The Lord put us in a place where we were able to share scripture, Biblically rooted truth, how He had worked in our lives, and speak encouragement and hope to a man riddled with defeat. We were given the privilege of seeing God’s power at work in a way that brought a man from being extremely skeptical about attending the church service that night, to a place where his exact words were, “Me encantaría asistir a la iglesia anoche—y también mañana.” 

I couldn’t help but think that the Lord obviously had us there in the bakery with José for a reason. It was clear that José was looking for answers and they were one’s that only the Lord could provide. What a privilege it is to be vessels that the Lord communicates truth and life through. But I also couldn’t help but think about Luis and Sebastián. Were they there that night? Would they walk through the doors to the foundation that night, the next morning, next week, next month, or maybe ever? 

I wanted to know the answers, but the Lord doesn’t owe us that. In all honesty, God doesn’t owe us anything. We don’t deserve answers or to know the plan or why He does things in the way that he chooses. We don’t even deserve the salvation that we receive from Jesus’ death on the cross. We deserve nothing—but even still, He is a gracious father who gives us everything.

We have an idea of what we want and how we want it, but in reality that rarely lines up with the plans God has for us. No where in scripture does it say, “You’re my child so you get to know the plan and have it your way.” But still we constantly believe we are entitled to know the answers, know the plan, and know what’s next instead of trusting that God wrote a plan for each and every one of us before we were ever knit together in the womb. We rely so much on the plans we write for ourselves instead of listening to the Lord say, “Wait, watch me work. I’m doing something better and greater, and for my glory.” We are called to lay down our wants and desires, our plans, our striving, our time, and sacrifice it for the sake of the Gospel trusting that the Lord has something greater, something better for you.

We may never get to see the fruit of the seeds that were planted in the lives of Luis and Sebastian that day in Parque de Bolivar but what I can tell you is that meeting a father and his son has taught me a little bit more about what walking in surrender to the Lord’s plans looks like. I may never know what happened to them and I may never know if they showed up to Ciudad Refugio that night or if they ever will, but the Lord does. I trust that the Lord is doing something in their lives and that He is going to water those seeds to one day bear fruit. I don’t get to know the details or the answers, but I get to surrender those things at the foot of the cross for hope and trust in a good God who planted a seed and promises a harvest. And that is more than enough for me. 

* Names and locations have been changed for privacy purposes.