This is always the hard part of ministry – leaving and saying good-bye. As long as I remember doing ministry or traveling with my parents as they were doing ministry, there have always been good-byes. I can remember many good-byes where we said as we left, “If we don’t see you again in this life, we’ll see you on the other side.” That truly is the hope that we have as believers – that we will meet again one day to be together without any more good-byes.
Today we left Monte Plata. Not a lot of fanfare. Carlos, our missionary contact from Santo Domingo, cruised into town about 2:15pm. We sat down and talked about the housing situation and what we felt was the right thing to do and where to go from here. Then we cleaned up our last minute items, loaded our luggage, locked the door and drove away.
I looked around to see if there were any kids that I recognized. I wanted to say good-bye to someone – anyone. This wasn’t the way that I had envisioned it. There were supposed to be kids around watching us load the car. There were supposed to be some people asking us when we’d be back, and we would tell them and we would promise to return.
Instead, there were a few guys across the street saw us load up. They paused momentarily from their game of dominoes to wave good-bye. Rebecca, who lives next door to our open lot beside our house, came over to ask when we were coming back to teach English and Bible studies. We told her in June.
Other than those, no one.
Already I miss Juandi. And Lucero. And Yoan. And Edison.
Funny how you can get used to seeing a face after only a short period of time.
* * * * *
On a hot, sunny, lazy Sunday afternoon, nothing hits the spot like a good dose of ice cream. I like Carlos because he thinks the same.
We stop in an ice cream shop on the main street, and get an assortment of milkshakes, ice cream and fudgesicles for the group. While the ice cream shop staff is preparing our order, I stand at the entrance of the shop which opens right onto the sidewalk which is just beside the main street.
It’s not as busy today. It’s Sunday, and most stores are closed. People are moving slower.
Today, the motorcycles number only in the dozens – not the hundreds we would normally see during the week.
I look to my left and to my right. I breathe in the smells of this small town. I look into the faces of these people – for the last time for a while.
Ice cream in hand, we head out of town. I see familiar homes and storefronts. There was the ferreteria (hardware store) where we bought the tape to put up our mosquito screens. On that corner was the internet café where I sent my thoughts to all my friends so far away. Here was the main street through town that we had walked so many times this past week. And now we were driving down it for the last time.
For a while at least.
Just like that, Monte Plata was behind us and our long journey home was ahead of us.
* * * * *
On the bumpy road back to the capital, Carlos and I talked about what we had just experienced.
“You know, brother,” he says. “Missionary work is not easy. It’s hard work. You have to be in it for the long haul.”
I hear what he’s saying. I mean the kind of hearing that is more than just acknowledging the sounds. I mean the kind of hearing where it connects with some deep understanding and emotion where you know it to be intuitively true. In four short days, I have felt and understood that this will be hard work of a kind that I have not known.
We chat about strategies and people and traditions. We talk about how Monte Plata is different from other places in the DR. We talk about the importance of one person.
One person can make a difference.
Carlos gave me stories of how he has seen it happen. One missionary worked for over a year in San Juan to start a work. After all that time, he had only two or three people coming to a Bible study. Frustration was a continuous part of his life. In desperation, he called out to God one day. That same day, he met a guy who spoke English who agreed to be his friend. That guy was soon a follower of Christ and became a committed worker to spread the Gospel. In just another year, there were over 150 believers participating in about 13 Bible studies all over town.
That one person made a difference.
Russell and I talked about that this week. Just seeing Juandi and his influence on the guys in the neighborhood this week made us think about how neat it would be to see God change his life and use him to reach the whole barrio. Just thinking about one person or family who was committed to the work in the DR who could come here and live and work for an extended period of time – they could really make a difference.
I really believe that if we had just one person who could live in Monte Plata among the people here, that would be such an advantage. They could be there to live out Christ in front of the neighbors, to talk with people daily, to answer the questions of those who are not yet believers and to be an encouragement to the believers. That person could make a real difference.
One person could make such a difference.
-- by Micah Ray
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