Guatemala 2012, Part I

FINALLY!

That's the exclamation that you are probably saying to yourself as you read the title post. One week ago exactly at this time last year, I came back from my unbelievable adventure in Guatemala. While I have shared my story to groups of friends, professors, and church members, I have strongly hesitated from chronicling the story on social media sites, or even posting up pictures. Why? I've asked myself this same question numerous times and it comes back to this: Fear of Man. I have been so afraid of the reaction of the people involved in this story and afraid to portray them in a negative light. I have been afraid of rebuke, criticism, and attack.  God has had to do extraordinary things in 2012 to free my heart from these fears (and is still doing so, praise Him!) and I am finally in a place of obedience to chronicle to you many of the things that happened to me when I went to Guatemala in March of 2012.  This tale will be told in several parts as it is rather extensive...

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When I attended the International House of Prayer’s Conference in Kansas City for several days following Christmas 2011 into the New Year of 2012, my spirit was deeply stirred and challenged like it had never been before. One song in particular, called “All This for Your Glory,” continued reverberating in me: “All this for Your glory, all this for Your name, that in all things You may have the first place…So take me anywhere, just put Your glory in me, I’ll go anywhere, just let me see Your beauty.” That song resonated in me, and I used it as my personal prayer, my heart’s constant cry: Lord, take me somewhere, anywhere! Let me go for Your great glory!” Never would I imagine how He would answer this great longing.

Just a few weeks later, I received a random email from a Christian medical group I was a part of promoting a two week medical missions trip to the jungles of Guatemala, led by a small church in Washington state. Their way of promoting their trip was with these words: “Two weeks in the jungles—no electricity, no running water. This is NOT a tourist trip.” I was absolutely hooked! Reading those two lines matched my desire to live and serve in remote places, and I was so excited to  contact them. They informed me that there was a spot for me, and we all began praying for me to receive the affirmation from the Lord and the necessary funds to go. It seemed to some that it was rather ridiculous for me to go on a trip like this in the middle of my senior year of college, and I certainly didn’t have the money nor knew if I had the time with my school load, but I kept praying and waiting. The Lord answered these prayers powerfully: I had a dream in which I heard Spanish in my sleep (which the Lord later revealed to me was the prayers of the Guatemalans I would be serving later on; thus I was audible hearing them ask the Lord to bring me and the team there), and I received more than $2,000 in less than 10 days. Woah! I took these as sure signs I was supposed to go. Additionally, I realized that I would be able to fit it in my school schedule as one of the weeks fell on Spring Break, and I was able to arrange with my professors about missing one week.

The weeks leading up to the trip were packed with school, preparations, lots of school, and more preparations. Every Sunday afternoon, I would “meet” my team via Skype and we would get to know one another, talk through details of the trip, and pray together. Much corporate praying was being done by family and friends for me and the team, and though I was physically exhausted daily, I was spiritually buoyed. The week of the trip was the craziest yet and all my free time was spent making salvation bracelets , collecting coloring pages and crayons for me to bring to Guate, in between writing papers and  doing other assignments for the school I would be missing. I barely slept each night and emotionally ranged from sheer excitement to anxiety to exhaustion. That week the Lord kept impressing this peculiar thought on my heart and mind: “If I asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do so?” I realized the implication of this question: would I be obedient to Him, even if it meant doing something radically different, illogical, or even dangerous? I wanted to say yes, but knew that He was addressing the fears in my heart of what it would require of me to truly trust Him. I wrestled with this for several days until one morning, His Spirit woke me up from sleep. I sat in the hallway of my apartment and opened my Bible and was led to verse after verse of strong words declaring God’s perfect and powerful love for me. In that moment, I was so overwhelmed with how much I was loved—He loves me this much, I couldn’t help but wonder—that I could only softly whisper, “Yes, Lord, whenever you want me to jump off that cliff, I will do so.” I realized that His love was large enough to lead me to the edge of the cliff and hold me as I fell.

My flight from Dallas Love Field to Houston was leaving at 6:15 AM Saturday morning to arrive in Houston an hour later, where I would meet up with my team. We would then leave  from Houston to Guatemala City at 9AM. True to procrastination, though, Friday night was spent haphazardly packing, finishing up various school assignments, and entertaining many friends who came in and out of the apartment to help make the last batch of salvation bracelets, pray blessing over me, and made sure I had everything I needed. My creative guy neighbors across the hall even made sure my bags were below the weight limit by improvising a scale using crutches and a duffel bag of various weights. My friends’ last words to me were to make sure I went to bed early, but it was not until 3 AM that I flopped on the living room couch with my phone in hand, mentally thinking, “I need to make sure I set the alarm...”

RING! RING! RING! I woke up panicked and looked at my cell phone. Alex was calling. He was the one giving me a ride to the airport. It was 5:45 AM. 5:45 AM?!  I had woken up  too late! My heart stopped beating. I picked up the phone and wailed: “Alex, we’re LATE!”  “I know, I know. I am so sorry! I just woke up! I’m picking you up right now!” We threw my bags in his car and sped to the airport, which was 20-25 min away. In the frenzy of the moment, with the clock ticking loudly every second, Alex covered the distance in a matter of 10 minutes. What we didn’t realize until later was the very important fact that Alex was not wearing his glasses, so the Lord was giving him vision in the moment.

We ran to the gate at exactly 6:15, exactly as the plane was taking off. Our hearts sank. The woman at the gate tried to comfort us by saying there was another flight at eight that I could easily get on. After hearing my explanation, she looked up my information, and remarked, “So is your team meeting in Houston Hobby  [the local airport] or Bush Intercontinental [the international one]? You should know that your flight only connects to Hobby and you’ll have to catch a shuttle to Bush.” I froze, shocked. I realized that I had made a great error in booking my ticket from Dallas to Houston by failing to verify which airport my team would be at and failing to realize that Love Field only connected to Lobby. Almost afraid to hear her response, I asked, “How long would it take for the shuttle to take me from one airport to another.” “Probably around an hour,” she said matter-of-factly. My mind raced as I did mental arithmetic: if my flight from Dallas left at 8, I would not get to Houston till 9, and I wouldn’t get to the international airport until at least 10 AM. The flight to Guate was leaving at 9:15! There would be no way I could make it! Alex saw my rising panic and proposed the idea of finding a flight from DFW directly to Guatemala City, which he immediately began researching on his iPhone. We knew that my team would be arriving around noon in Guate City, and all the flights from Dallas would be arriving to Guate City by that afternoon and evening. I dialed my teammate’s number and explained the situation. She listened patiently and explained that I needed to find a flight that would arrive around the same time theirs did as they had already planned to promptly leave the city to begin the journey into the jungle. They could not wait too long for me, she explained, and in afterthought, mentioned that if the schedule did not work out, it may be best if I came next year… I quickly rejected the idea and assured her that something would work out. As Alex continued researching international flights, I decided to see if there was any way I could find a direct flight from Love Field to Bush, and was prompted to go to another terminal, where another airline was said to provide the flight. It was about 7 AM at this point as I jogged to the other terminal, which was deserted, and waited for 30 minutes for someone to show up behind the counter. Unfortunately, the direct flight did not leave until much later that morning, the attendant informed me. I then decided the best option was to go ahead and go on the 8AM flight to Houston and trust the Lord to provide a miracle. It was about 7:45 that I returned to where Alex had been waiting and explained what I had found out. We grabbed my bags and stood in line for security very anxiously, praying that the line would speed up. It didn’t. By the time I was cleared, I only had mere minutes left. I ran as hard as I could to the gate, praying desperately that I would not—I could not—miss another flight. I arrived at the gate, breathless, and begged the flight attendant to let me on the plane. He kindly said, “I’m so sorry, but the plane just took off.”

I had missed another flight.

Mind reeling, numb with the thought of another blow, another mistake, I sat down. I felt so confused, so burdened. Why hadn’t God stopped the plane? On the verge of tears, I called Alex and my teammate in Houston, to explain to them what happened. Both encouraged me to stay in Dallas. I understood where they were coming from, but resisted the thought internally. I called my friend, Deanna, who I trusted to be a confidante and strong spiritual advisor. As I explained to her what had occurred up to that point, she urged me to remember all the ways in which God had revealed Himself to me. Did He make it clear that I was supposed to go? Yes. Hadn’t He been faithful to provide for me up to that point? Yes. Then, despite all these obstacles, He would make a way. She ended our conversation by challenging me to sing as I waited for the next flight to Houston at 9 AM, to sing as a sign of faith, to sing in gratitude for the anticipation of the breakthrough God would surely provide. She was right: God would make a way! There was NO way I could stop halfway now. I started humming, my spirit strengthened. I called Alex and my teammate to tell them that I was going to go ahead and go to Houston. They responded strongly with great resistance.

I was one of the first ones to get on the 9 AM flight and sat next to an older couple who asked where I was going. With a large bag of salvation bracelets in my lap which I continued to make as we chatted, I responded by saying Guatemala was my end destination but described all the events that had transcribed thus far. “However,” I said thoughtfully, “I believe that God will somehow make a miracle: either he will speed this plane up so that we can arrive in Houston in no time, or that He can somehow delay the other plane [that my teammates would get on] so that they will have to wait for me.” I believed those words with all my heart. The couple looked at me with incredulity and humor and switched the topic.

By the time we arrived in Houston, I checked the clock. It was 10 AM. The Lord had not frozen time, but, I thought as I turned on my phone, perhaps He could have stopped my team from going without me. I tried dialing all  the numbers that I knew. No one answered. My heart sank. I realized that I had a voicemail from the team leader (who had gone ahead of us to Guate the week before), and I listened to it, hoping ,somehow, it would bring redemptive news. “Hi Syeldy, this is Thali. I was told of all the things that have happened to you this morning, and I think it would be best for you to turn back and return to Dallas. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come to Guatemala and we will try again next year. In fact, I think God has made it clear that it is not His will for you to come here because of all the obstacles that you’ve faced; I think He is trying to stop you from coming. Please turn back and go to Dallas. Bye.”

I immediately sat down. I felt completely paralyzed. I was shocked beyond belief, unaware of anything else going on around me, as her words reverberated in my mind: “God has made it clear that it is not His will for you to come...the obstacles…He is trying to stop you from coming.” Suddenly, the spiritual peace I had vanished as I was thrown into confusion. “It is not His will for me to go?” I began to panic. What threw me off was the fact that here, my older sister in Christ and authority figure whom I trusted, was informing me that it wasn’t God’s will for me to go. This was absolutely contrary to everything that had been said to me and what I had believed up to this point; I had never interpreted the events of the morning as Him “trying to stop me from coming,” but perhaps she was right…The thought of being out of God’s will absolutely terrified me. This was one of my biggest fears. Trying to stop myself from hyperventilating, I took deep breaths and started walking around the small airport looking for a place to charge my phone. Nothing. What was I supposed to do then? I stood in front of the empty kiosk for the airport shuttles and battled in my mind and heart of what I was supposed to do next. As I stood there, the attendant appeared and asked if she could help me. Unsure, I asked if she had a phone charger I could borrow. She did and plugged it behind the kiosk next to us and said that I could use it for however long I needed. Because the airport was relatively not busy at that time, I sank to the floor next to the kiosk and bowed my head into my arms, trying not to cry. I decided to call Dee again but she did not answer. I left her a voicemail, then, describing my situation, and ending with words that at first was faltering, but grew stronger: “Oh Dee, I don’t know what to do and God’s not answering... I don’t know where I’m supposed to go next… But you know what, Dee, God deserves my praise regardless. I choose now to praise Him for who He is. I’m going to praise Him and trust Him.” With that, I made up my mind to go to Bush Intercontinental to see if there was anything that could be done about getting a later flight. I was already in Houston and so close; I was not going to quit. I thought: “I might as well try for the sake of saying I had tried everything, if this whole thing ends up as a complete failure.” I bought my shuttle ticket and waited outside. There were a handful of passengers in the van until I was the last one, as I was going the farthest distance. As I sat there, pondering, desperately praying, I felt inspired to start singing. With the permission of the shuttle driver, I began belting songs of faith, spontaneous songs that expressed the turmoil and the promises of God. I sang because my feeble spirit needed to be empowered, and my heart cried for encouragement. My voice grew stronger as something shifted in the spiritual atmosphere. With every word I sang, victory was ringing out. In that moment, I believe that principalities in the unseen heavenly realms were winning; the forces of darkness were cowering and fleeing as the angels of light were charging through with light and hope. It was as if a thick spiritual “veil” was being torn down; the spirits of confusion, distress, and fear that had plagued me all morning were running away. In fact, I also sensed that the urgent, fervent prayers of numerous friends were culminating in the presence of the Lord (I had been texting them all morning, updating them with every new occurrence, and they responded with Scripture and assurance of prayers) and He was answering their petitions by giving me spiritual stability. As I belted out words that came to mind, peace was flooding in. The more I lifted up my voice, assurance and hope came rushing in. This change was immediate and striking; I felt like a dead man awakened; so great was the change in the spiritual milieu within.  An arrow of enlightenment struck me: I had my passport, I had a ticket booked to Guate (hopefully), I had thousands of crayons, coloring pages, and salvation bracelets that had been carefully and prayerfully prepared by so many people--there was NO way I could turn back to Dallas and not deliver these things! I was firmly decided that I was going to Guatemala, regardless—regardless of whether or not my team agreed with me.

When I arrived to international airport, I went up to the counter and gave a brief synopsis of my situation. The man behind the counter checked his records and remarked that my team had canceled my ticket that morning. Exclaiming that they had done with without my explicit permission, I begged for another flight later that day. “I’m so sorry, but it looks like there’s only one other flight today and it is totally booked. You will have to sleep in the airport tonight and catch a morning flight tomorrow.”  I refused. He gave me the direct number for United Airlines for making appeals and I went downstairs to charge my phone so that I could it. I had to wait more than 20 minutes (which were spent fervently praying!)  as I was put on hold. Finally, the woman came back and was pleased to announce that she had found a spot for me for the 7pm flight to Guatemala City. Hoooraayyy!!!!!!! Words could not express the relief and joy I felt in that moment; I nearly started dancing and yelling in the hall. I was going to Guatemala for sure now!!! Ecstatic and exhilarated, I called and texted friends to tell them the news. They responded with paralleled exuberance. I grabbed my bags and headed to the gate listed on the ticket; once there, I sat into a seat and sank into deep sleep, physically and emotionally exhausted, but with a glad heart and grateful spirit.

About an hour later, I groggily woke up. Where was I? Oh yes. The day’s events flooded into remembrance. The gate that had been empty at the start of my nap was now filling up with people, and I noticed a steward/airport attendant behind the counter. Wanting to reassure myself that I was at the right place, I approached this man with my ticket in hand. “Excuse me sir, is this the flight leaving for Guatemala City at 7pm tonight?” He frowned and looked at my ticket. “I’m sorry, dear, but you’re at the wrong gate. The gate you’re supposed to be at is on the other side of the airport and you’ll need to take the airport rail to get there.” Repressing a huge sigh within and internally slapping myself for making yet another mistake, I thanked him and trotted to where he directed me. Fifteen minutes later, I was finally at the right gate (after triple checking). It was about 5PM and I was definitely not late! Overcome with relief I called Alex and we laughed as we retrospected over the day’s events. Alex had been very busy that day helping me with many details behind-the-scenes and had arranged for me to stay overnight at our mutual friend’s cousin’s house in Guatemala City until I could rejoin my team the next day. He updated me on that information and advised me on things to do/not do when I arrived in the city. As we talked, there was an incoming call from Guatemala. I instinctively knew it was from my team so I told Alex I would call him back. I was so excited to tell my team that I was going to be in Guatemala that night! My first teammate called and asked for an update; I happily told her that I was awaiting an evening flight for Guate and would be arriving at 9PM. Though I knew they had already traveled outside of the city, would it be possibly for me to meet up with them somewhere tomorrow? I even said that my Guatemalan host family had agreed to take me wherever I needed to go for extra protection. There was silence. “Syeldy…I don’t think we can do that. We’re already a long ways away from the capital, and I don’t think we can meet up with you tomorrow…” I reiterated that my host family would take me wherever I needed to go, but there was silence on the other end. The call had dropped as they were traveling through the countryside. The phone rang again. This time, the voice on the other end was Thali, our team leader, her voice sounding urgent and forceful: “Syeldy, as your elder, I command you not to come here. There is no way we can wait for you and I cannot guarantee your safety.” I attempted to explain that I would have a reliable guide with me who would bring me wherever I needed to go, but she waived it off, trying to explain to me  the ruggedness and danger of the Guatemalan countryside to my ignorance. “Syeldy, remember my voicemail earlier? I don’t believe it’s the will of God for you to come and I think you are trying to fight His will right now.” Taking a deep breath, I argued back as politely as I could. “Thali, I disagree with you. I firmly believe that God does want me to go as He’s shown me through these different ways…” She cut me off, her voice raising to a near shriek, “Syeldy, if you persist in coming here, we will not help you. We will not meet you. We will not give you our numbers or tell you where we are. If you persist in coming, you will no longer have a team anymore!” The call dropped.

I slowly took the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Her sharp words pierced me like arrows. I felt like the ground had been pulled out from underneath me.  If I persist in coming, I do not have a team anymore? I was afraid, angry, appalled, and in shock. Their rejection cut painfully deep, deeper than I had the words to express…I was heartbroken.

I dialed Deanna’s number. As I waited for her to pick up, huge sobs welled up from within me and by the time she answered, tears were streaming down my face and sobs were replacing words in my mouth. Slowly, the story came out, and I finally wailed, “Oh Dee, I don’t know what to do now! I don’t have a team anymore! I am alone and rejected!” Any stranger passing by in that moment could clearly see I was having a severe meltdown. With great boldness and faith, Dee quickly responded as she had before, “I believe you’re supposed to go. Remember what He’s done so far. Syeldy, whether you have a team or not, I believe that there is a great purpose for you to go there; you’re going to make an impact even if you’re sharing the Gospel on the streets of city by yourself or if you’re with another team. Go, Syeldy. His Spirit’s going to provide and open doors for you.” She prayed for me and I wept along, agreeing with her words. Her prayer calmed me down and when I was emotionally more stable, I called Alex back and texted others about my changed circumstances. Deanna was right: I was supposed to go on this adventure with the Spirit and somehow, surely, He would provide another team or something else.

When the flight left at 7PM, I sat in my seat and realized: I was stepping off the cliff.