Home is Where the Heart is

For those of us who went to Costa Rica, part of us will remain there for some time. We've met incredible brothers and sisters in Christ who "fight the good fight" daily, who live lives of joy before the Father, who allow the Spirit to work through them, who "take up their cross(es)" daily, and who we may see again only in Heaven. Our perspective on the brotherhood of the Family of God grew by leaps and bounds.

In addition, our connections within our group of Americans found new strength because of the shared experience.  Somewhere in our hearts, now, there's a family of God that we know and people we know and places we know; we see them in our heads like the plume of smoke from a far-away volcano.

After services Friday night at the new building, I jokingly said to Jeff J., "This is like summer camp."  But then I started thinking; one of the frustrating things about camp was that you always had to return home--and home wasn't like camp.

Why not? Why can't we keep that 'camp' feeling all the time?  The brothers and sisters in Costa Rica seem to have kept that sensation--ok, let's call it what it is--the Holy Spirit--all the time.  It spills out of them like rivers of joy, showing in their lives by their works and their smiles.

So, this lazy, fat, know-it-all American went to Costa Rica and found the Spirit of God among new brothers and sisters and then found that Spirit shared among our own group and seen in our changed lives.

I'd call that a successful mission trip any way you slice it.

Shalom, y'all.