Whatever It Takes

My Dad and brother are currently in Cuba on a mission trip, and that has me reminiscing about my own trip there with Dad, exactly 21 years ago (we were there from January 20^th-30^th in 1995). There were so many memorable moments that have stayed with me and I’m eternally grateful for the experience. As with most mission trips, you go with the hope that you have something to offer, and you come away realizing that you had far more to learn.

I had been on a few mission trips prior to our trip to Cuba (Colombia for a month when I was 10 years old, Guatemala for two weeks when I was 14), but Cuba was special because I was older and could see God at work in ways that would have escaped me when I was a child or teenager.

Cuba brought up many of the typical realizations that happen when you travel to another country: I was struck by the “lack” of material things and resources and even more struck by the “abundance” of generosity; I was amazed at the enthusiasm and passion that Christians displayed; I was awed by the fellowship of the people and how they cared for each other. Cubans are wonderful people and I could go on and on about they ways that they impressed and inspired me.

But it was the small, odd moments that taught me the most. I love it that God surprises us with these moments (and you don’t have to go on a mission trip to experience them – if you are looking for Him, these moments can happen every day in the ordinary but extraordinary stuff of life). When I think of the lessons I learned in Cuba, these are the moments that bubble to the surface:

God is bigger than barriers.   We traveled to a tiny village where the local pastor wanted to begin a new church. We spent some time walking down a dirt road, greeting people, dodging pigs and chickens and other animals, and then dozens of people crammed into a tiny room of a house and I was asked to sing. I had learned some songs in Spanish, but in that moment, I sang “Amazing Grace” in English. It’s hard to explain, but as I sang, this (surprising) stillness came over the room. A few moments earlier, it had been a busy, bustling group, but as I sang words that they could not even understand, they looked at me so intently, and I knew that somehow God was translating. It was as if they were absorbing the love of God through this melody (I’m a firm believer that music reaches us in places that words cannot), and it was the moment that I learned God’s Spirit is so much bigger than language barriers or any other obstacle.

Gratitude is the gateway to joy.   I was amazed at the resourcefulness of the Cuban people. One day I threw away some flashlight batteries and someone fished them out of the trash. When I asked what he was going to do with dead batteries, I was told that they break them open and use the liquid inside to seal the bottom of their shoes. Nothing was wasted in Cuba. But the moment that taught me about gratitude came during a visit with Ana and Pedro, a little couple that my Dad loved dearly (on a prior trip he left them $20, and the following year, they were eager to show him that with that small amount of money, they added a bathroom onto their house!).

Ana was proudly showing me around her small home.  By her bed, she had carefully displayed a few lipstick and makeup cases, but she laughed as she showed me that they were empty. She also had a drawer where she had neatly saved wrappers from gum and candy. When I asked her why she saved these things that were empty, she said, “Because it reminds me that I was once blessed to have them.” It would have been easy for Ana to be bitter that she could not have these things, but instead she chose to be grateful that she had them once. It was a powerful and humbling moment for me.

Legalism sucks the life out of love. (For those who don’t speak church language, legalism is just focusing on the law/rules instead of God’s Spirit) We traveled with other pastors and laypeople who ranged from moderate to conservative in their theology. They were wonderful people, but they sometimes missed out on opportunities to connect in the community because they were concerned about their “witness.” Thankfully, my Dad has always been “unburdened” (to put it mildly) by that sort of thinking, so he and I enjoyed every opportunity to experience the culture. One night we were invited to a community dance (where I heard and learned the Macarena long before it ever came to America) and it was met with disapproval from a few in our group, but we had such a wonderful time! Moments like this taught me that Christians need to let go and have fun – there’s no joy in constantly protecting an impossible standard or trying to live up to some contrived image of what a Christian should look like. Be you! Smile and laugh. Dance. Live big. Love big.

Pick your battles carefully (better yet, let God pick them for you). I didn’t appreciate this when I was younger, but my parents were wonderful examples of how to navigate controversial waters. They worked in very conservative churches while holding on to progressive theology and I’m amazed when I look back at the wonderful ministry they have had for almost 40 years. My Dad could be a very confrontational person, but he picked his battles. In Cuba, he wasn’t there to make a political statement, but people were curious and he dodged their questions with humor and charm. I will never forget visiting a high school (the first North Americans to ever visit) and to our surprise, they actually called an assembly and I was able to sing (I sang the hymn “Without Him” in Spanish) and the kids were given an opportunity to ask questions.  One kid asked my Dad what he thought of Castro and Dad said, “Well, he has a beard like me – I think he is a very handsome man.”

 

Another preacher didn’t fare so well. On a different occasion, as a group of us were riding in the back of a dump truck, one of our interpreters, named Gladys (an absolute firecracker – I think of her every time I watch Gloria from the show “Modern Family”) asked one of the preachers what he thought of the embargo. He answered the question seriously and said he thought it was a good thing, and she got right in his face and said, “Well, f*&k you then!” The preacher looked so shocked as Gladys continued to let him have it in Spanish. My Dad and I roared with laughter, and I remember being glad I didn’t step on that landmine.

I am a flawed and cowardly follower of Christ. It would have been easy for me to convince myself that I was a “good” Christian because I had ventured off on a mission trip, but God wasn’t going to let that happen.

The most memorable spiritual moment I had in Cuba was also one of the most humbling moments of my life. I was singing with my Dad, a song called “Whatever It Takes.” The lyrics are heavy, (I’m including them at the end of this blog and encourage you to read them and ask yourself if you could honestly say the words – it’s a real heart check!) and my parents had taught me that I should never sing what I do not believe. As I sang these words, I started to cry:

Take my houses and lands. Change my dreams and my plans.

Lord I’m placing my whole life in your hands.

And if you call me today to a land far away,

Lord, I’ll go, and Your will obey.

I never recovered, and my Dad had to step in and sing the rest of the song by himself as I stood there and sobbed.

I was 21 years old, graduating from college, planning to get married, and I wondered if could really give God my dreams and plans . . . “whatever it takes.”

I wanted to believe that I would do anything for the Lord, but as I tried to sing those words, I knew my heart was not there. I couldn’t sing them with conviction and I was ashamed that I was holding something back from the Lord, when I had experienced His love, mercy, grace and faithfulness. He had given so lavishly to me – how could I hold anything back?  Somehow those words were much easier to sing when I was “safe” and spoiled in America, but the words came to life in a new way while standing in that small church so far from home.

In the 21 years since that moment, I have realized that God can use a willing heart, even if we are sometimes following Him with trepidation. God calls us to step outside our comfort zone and often scares us by asking us to be vulnerable, but I don’t believe He ever calls us to do anything that He doesn’t equip us to do. He tells us over and over in the Bible not to fear and that’s because He knows us so well, and He knows we are flawed humans, prone to fear, wanting desperately to believe we are in control.

The lesson of that moment remains with me. If I’m ever tempted to think of myself as a “good” Christian, God uses that memory to remind me that I am flawed and cowardly, but He is good and faithful, and I can trust Him.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:2

“Whatever It Takes” by Lanny Wolfe Verse 1 There’s a voice calling me, from an old rugged tree And it whispers, “Draw closer to me. Leave this world far behind, There are new heights to climb, And a new place in Me you will find.” Chorus And whatever it takes, to draw closer to You, Lord, That’s what I’ll be willing to do. And whatever it takes, to be more like you, That’s what I’ll be willing to do. I’ll trade sunshine for rain, comfort for pain, That’s what I’ll be willing to do. For whatever it takes, for my will to break, Then that’s what I’ll be willing to do. Verse 2 Take the dearest things to me, if that’s how it must be To draw me closer to thee. Let the disappointments come, Lonely days without the sun, If through sorrow, more like you I’ll become. Verse 3 Take my houses and lands, Change my dreams and my plans. For I’m placing my whole life in Your hands. And if you call me today, To a land far away, Lord, I’ll go and Your will obey.