Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The title of this post is what is CONSTANTLY going through my mind, thanks to the many, many challenges inherent in living in a country where you don't speak the language...


Las perchas: coat hangers. La microonda: the microwave. La terraza: the terrace. Guagua: the bus.

These are the first few of the many new words I will learn here en la República Dominicana. Since coming, I have acquired my first Dominican pesos and had my first glimpse of the Dominican countryside; I experienced the thrill of my first conversation with a local and tasted the first bit of my Dominican mother’s cuisine.

I’ve succeeded in making it here alive and intact. And, praise the Lord, no diarrhea. On the other hand, my attempts at communicating with my host familia have largely failed; I think I understood about 10% of what my poor host mother has tried to tell me. Although that may be generous.

But I'm not only learning words. I'm learning that Sometimes it is okay just to cry. When you’re in a foreign country without a friend, when you can’t understand a word that is spoken to you, when you’re wondering why God brought you somewhere only to break you, it is okay to cry. Which I’ve been doing a lot lately. More often than not, I have tears streaming out of my eyes, snot out of my nose, and sweat out of my pores.  My life right now is more difficult and more daunting than it has ever been in the past twenty-one years of my existence. Yes, hard things have happened before, but I’ve always – always – had a friend to lean on.

The hardest part, after the immense frustration of not being able to comprehend the language spoken all around me, is knowing that the closest person who loves me is over a thousand miles away. And knowing that this will be the case for the next four months. Four months, which seems like it must be several lifetimes.

So this is what it is to depend completely and exclusively on the Triune God. It’s when you are forced to beg His mercy at least once every sixty seconds. It’s when you know you physically, emotionally, and mentally cannot make it without Him. It’s when you tune out the shrieking children, the honking horns and the rooster outside your window desperately trying to hear the sound of His voice speaking peace to your soul.

In case I haven’t painted a vivid enough picture, I will reiterate that allowing yourself to be in a situation where you must rely solely on the Lord is not pretty. Because regardless of how personable and confident I am in America, how many friends I have, or how good my grades are, I have none of that here. It is all stripped away and I am left naked to discover who I really am.

But the point of redemption in this mess I’m in is that I also get to discover who God really is. I will become a person who has seen the power of God enacted mightily, and my faith will increase tenfold. In the meantime, I strive to respond as Job did: falling to my knees in worship (Job 1:20). If Job lost all of his children plus all he owned and still worshipped, I know I certainly can.

And Job didn't even get to go to the beach, which is where I'm headed tomorrow. But for now I have to go, because this internet café is starting to get a little questionable. ¡Hasta luego!