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Moving Mountains

January 01, 2020

The first time I decided to go to Nicaragua was the summer after my freshman year of high school. Like many things I did in life, I decided to go because my older sister had also decided to go. My dad, older brother, and even my younger brother (who took his first trip to Nicaragua at just 6 years old) had all been before. I no longer wanted to be outdone by my younger brother, and I definitely did not want to be outdone by ALL of my siblings. So there I was… selfish, uncultured, ignorant, the 14 year-old me, getting ready to, blindly, go into to a poor, bug infested, humid, strange new place. And there God was; ready to completely wreck me.

The first couple of days of my first trip to Nicaragua were awful. I was completely miserable, crying every time I had a chance. “Why did I waste my time and energy to come here?” I had been kicked right out of my comfort zone, and I was not okay with that. Just as I was sure that I would never go back to this foreign place, God introduced me to the most humbling people I had ever met. Coming from a home where I was fortunate enough to always have everything I needed and most of what I wanted, meeting a group of people who found contentment and happiness in the smallest of things was what I really needed most.  We held a Vacation Bible School with kids who were living strictly with what they needed.  You can imagine the looks of joy on their faces when they received a paper lion or elephant mask while we told them about our God and how he created us. I was convinced the feeling I had from that precious moment would never be topped, until that night. We were having a church service in a language I couldn’t understand, when I heard them singing “Mighty to Save” I had heard this song so many times before, but this time was very different. Two languages, countless strangers, one God. The same God who is “moving mountains” is the same God who softened my teenage heart. I knew that “everyone needs compassion” and that He has “a love that’s never failing”; I just didn’t realize that it was me who needed those things in that moment.  That sounds super selfish...because it is.

The first mission trip you go on is a funny thing. You think you’re going to bless all of these people, and you do, but what is really happening is God is fixing you; your mindset, your heart, all of it, so you can more selflessly serve in the future. Sure, I technically “chose” to go on my first mission trip in hopes of blessing all of these people, but, in reality, God was sending me to be blessed by them. On my first mission trip to Nicaragua, I was taught just how small my world really is. I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to experience how surreal it is to worship the same God as people that speak an entirely different language.

From that moment on, I was hooked. I was ready to love every tribe, tongue, and nation as best I could by teaching them about God’s never failing love for us. Since that first trip, I’ve been able to go nearly every summer, over Christmas, and even over spring break on the medical mission trips (which has become a passion of mine). So here I am... a little less selfish, a little more cultured, a little less ignorant, the 21-year-old me.  I’m waiting to go on my 10th trip to that still bug infested, still humid, still somewhat strange place that I am fortunate enough to call my second home. And here’s God, ready to teach me more about how to love people better than I did yesterday; this time, I am ready to learn.



Meredith Bolin, Senior Biology Major

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